That awkward moment when mom steps on your “we were so poor” narrative in front of your friends …
Poverty in America. pic.twitter.com/yJZbZMlQHy
— Mike Cernovich (@Cernovich) May 22, 2015
h/t David Thompson
That awkward moment when mom steps on your “we were so poor” narrative in front of your friends …
Poverty in America. pic.twitter.com/yJZbZMlQHy
— Mike Cernovich (@Cernovich) May 22, 2015
h/t David Thompson
In Madison we live in a neighborhood with the largest house on the second largest lot, two new vehicles (truck and sedan), every electronic device imaginable, and we ate out at least 3-4 times a week (lunch & dinner combined). Had all the clothes wanted.
Somehow, we were not rich. Most of her friends now live in multi-million dollar homes and vacation in Thailand and “Tahoe”….
Poverty….not a single person in the United States is poor in comparison to 6 billion other people on the planet….
Somehow, 20 somethings have different perspectives…
I grew up what I considered very middle class but some would think was “poor” now
“Poor” was my dad who was living on his own at 15 (working & going to high school) …
But he rarely talks about it, just put in the hard work to be quite successful and live comfortably.
I’m just so tired of this “I’m a bigger victim than you!” mentality.
these people and the way they whore their pathetic lives out to mark zuckerberg
they mystify me
“Every morning we thanked the Lord for the air that we breathed.”
“You had air?”
Yes and let’s all block mum when she calls us on it…
As Thompson wrote in the comments,
Ah, the home life of the budding social justice warrior. You can practically hear the adolescent door slam.
>these people and the way they whore their pathetic lives out to mark zuckerberg
they mystify me<
tell it swiss cakeroll/ms debbie
I guess we were pretty broke at some times when I was younger. We were uninsured when my father was treated for severe injuries after a car he was working on rolled on top of him. I was six. He was a very rare survival for that kind of injury according to the doctors and nurses. He made it to 87 when he passed last year, 45 years after that incident.
Yet, we always had food to eat, lights to see by, an books to read.
If he heard me bitch about my life like this chick did, I would be ashamed.
By the way, he was out of work because of the collapse of the defense industry in the late sixties and early seventies. He had spent time as an engineer working for Grumman, Ryan, Lockheed, etc., from the mid 50s and on and gave that up after the car incident to be an electrician because the work was steadier.
Everybody has a purpose in life. For some, like our young friend, it might be to serve as a warning to others. Don’t be that girl.
I would divorce that kid.
My High School friends used to call me “poor little rich boy” because I never had any money to do the things they did and I always had to have a job. Now I totally understand it, my parents put 5 kids through private schools, four of us through college and my mother stayed home to raise us. I figured this out while I was in college and decided that I didn’t need my parents any more. My parents spent their money on what they thought was important for us, not what we thought was important. If I wanted it, and it was some kind of bullshit, then I could earn the money to buy it.
I disagree with my parents on almost everything, but I will say this, I had a freaking perfect childhood. (you wouldn’t have believed I would have said that when I was a bitchy, smart-mouthed, pain in the ass kid.)