Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Yet another apartment inspection tomorrow, so I've been cleaning. I hurt my back while dusting under my desk. That's wonderful. The Republicans have steadily drummed it into the minds of the gullible that half the people receiving public assistance are layabouts living like royalty. That means there’s always pressure on Congress to increase the regulations and to make the bureaucracy ever more elaborate. Did you know that more than half of the people who are approved for HUD assistance never get their vouchers because Washington has made the process so difficult that applicants are unable to find anyone who will accept the voucher, and if they do, they don’t have apartments that HUD will approve of. You wouldn’t believe all the rules and regulations and paperwork. The government turns its back on Wall Street bankers, but they have me and an army of bureaucrats exchanging forms and bank statements all year long, and they’ve got a guy coming out here to look at my toilet four times a year.

I’m sick. I have post traumatic stress and extreme social phobia. I do not want strangers poking around in my house, looking in the cupboards and closets. It upsets me. And what the hell would I do if they found a leak that management refused to fix and they cut out my subsidy? I could very easily end up homeless. Just imagine old people and people dying of cancer trying to deal with this shit. And on top of everything else, I get to scroll down my newsfeed on Facebook and see “friends” demanding drug tests for people like me. Assholes. I guess they’re afraid I might enjoy myself for five minutes while living in this dump. I think they should be subjected to a drug test and a full body cavity search if they want to use a public toilet or walk on a sidewalk. We can’t be too careful, you know.

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