I purchase gas and some lottery tickets. Mom looks bewildered and says, “The lottery? You aren’t the type.” I reply, “As my eldest son says, it is a tax on the stupid, but I see it as a donation to the state. I would rather the state have it, than have Mr. Obama redistribute it.”
Mom’s eyes light up, “Can you imagine Obama and Congress passing 99 weeks of workers compensation for those lazy bums? Like clockwork at noon every day, they start filing in for 6 packs and 12 packs of beer and bottles of wine. At 6 or thereabouts, they wander over to the bar and stay for hours, even until dawn. I have found them sleeping on our gas islands. They couldn’t make it across the street.
"They joke about living off workers comp and welfare and their girlfriends’ paychecks. They say they will not work for peanuts and that the government owes them a living. These bums just expect handouts. What is Congress thinking? There are some legitimate unemployed but, these people never work.”
Mom sighs, “I get up at 5 every morning and start cleaning the area by 5:30. While our young people are fighting in Iraq, these loafers just demand more and more handouts. The bleeding hearts in Washington give it to them.”
Heading for the door, I say, “They vote and that is what the pols count on.” Mom’s parting words are, “They are too lazy to vote, unless they are paid. I saw it in Chicago and Milwaukee.”
Next I head for the supermarket. Gathering my groceries, I choose the checkout line manned by a retired businessman, who is working for the health benefits. His business in the Midwest employed 150 workers, but he sold it when the labor union problems began to intensify. He notes that, although his employees made more than he did, Obama would classify him as “the rich.”
He laments the class warfare mentality of the president and most Democrats but admits to being a lifelong Democrat. Current Democrats, he says, lack the stature of Harry Truman, Scoop Jackson, and Jack Kennedy.
Today he has something to show me — a lengthy supermarket receipt for items including steaks, shrimp, and crab-meat purchased using a food stamps credit card.
The remaining balance on the card is in excess of $2,000.
“Wow,” I comment. “That is some card, some money, some good deal. Was it a local or a tourist?” He says it was a person who spoke very little English but managed to question the amount of the purchases.
The teenage bagger, hearing the conversation says, “I never saw $2,000 in my life. Some people get it all.”
A 60-something man behind me in line laughs, “What do you expect from the redistribution of wealth — Obama economics. It ain’t his money, and what’s ours is now everyone’s. You wanted change, and you are getting it. The Democrats have the greatest scam going — a sucker is born every minute.”
Walsh doesn't explain how the supermarket manager obtained a copy of the receipt or is able to speak so knowledgably about how much was purportedly on the "food stamps credit card."