Response to Week 3 DQ1
27 Feb. 2004
While men like John F. Kerry and John Edwards jaunt about the countryside, touting a message of hope for all of those starving American children, we have one in six who are considered overweight?
For all of those family’s who have suffered under the terrible, thoughtless ineptitude of President Bush, for all of those whose very existence is living day-to-day on the governmental food stamp programs; we have ONE IN SIX children too fat?
How awful it must be for those, poor, bloated teenagers to have to face mockery from their own peers. It isn’t like skinny people have to face any of that. I mean, you never hear of children of average weight and height going on shooting rampages in schools. And peer-pressure itself is a new thing, isn’t it? Those poor kids never saw it coming.
I think it would be prudent if all of those welfare-fed families were awarded millions by compassionate judges for their pain, and suffering. Those poor people, who eat at McDonalds every day because they are forced to by the subliminal messages smattered across billboards, and by the gun wielding capitalists forcing Whoppers down their throats, should be protected from all of that evil. Just where are these parents trading in their food stamps for cash to buy fast food?
Wake up America.
We live in a time of unimagined luxury. What other century provided free, up-scale housing for the homeless, because it would make them feel like “poor people” if they lived in bad neighborhoods? Why give them something to work for when they can have it all for free? No matter that the very neighbors whose property values are plummeting had to go to work every day to get where they are.
Opportunities do indeed abound.
What a wonderous time we live in, when children have enough food that they aren’t malnourished. Do you know what I would like to see? I would like to see statistics regarding the failing of personal responsibility.
In case you were wondering, I myself was a welfare child. Do you know why? It wasn’t because “The Man” was keeping us down. It wasn’t because there weren’t any jobs. It wasn’t because the rich kept getting richer on the backs of those who kept getting poorer. It was because of pride. My father was too proud to be told what to do by a plant supervisor. It was because he would rather have spent the food stamps on cough medicines in support of a self-imposed Codeine addiction. He would rather have spent my paper-route money on a bottle of vodka and a can of orange juice.
Should we talk about statistics?
Three of my four sisters are concidered overweight. They were fat ever since they turned ten years of age. Was it because of fast food? No. There were days when we ate onions because we had nothing else. I think I had two McDonald hamburgers in my lifetime, up until I was thirteen. I now eat a double-Whopper with cheese three times a week; I weigh 145 lbs. at a height of 6’2”.
Half of my siblings are overweight, half are thin. Half have blue eyes, half have brown. Half are serious parents, half are fly-by-night partiers. Half are boys, half are girls.
Would someone like to expound upon those statistics?
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