Is it Sunday Yet?

Today was the day of massive shopping in Big A. Wal-Mart, Sam's Club, Vitamin Cottage, etc. What day is it? December 1. First of the month. Checks hit accounts today. Frustrating when you stand in line with your carefully planned purchases falling well within budgetary restrictions. And you stand behind a woman with 6 kids, a cart full of sodas, meat, and junk food that she pays for with her EBT card, and then pulls out a wad of cash to pay for the three cases of beer, two boxes of wine, and two cartons of cigarettes. Sigh.

I have absolutely NO problem with people who need help getting back on their feet I have absolutely NO problem with seniors getting back what they worked all their lives paying. Even knowing our social security taxes are going to pay that promise the government made and the probability that we'll ever see a Social Security check is slim to none, I have no problem. But the wannabe gangsta with his gold grill, sideways ball cap, and jeans clinging precariously to his thighs doesn't get my sympathy. The 20-something hipster with 20+ piercings from ear to ear and forehead to mouth sporting an Obama button doesn't get my sympathy. The woman with 6 kids by multiple baby-daddys doesn't get my sympathy. I know, I know. Don't judge lest ye be judged. You don't know their story. Sorry, don't want to know their story. I know my story, the sacrifices I made, the choices and consequences I embraced, and the fact that I didn't ask for others to pay for my choices. When people start having to pay the consequences, maybe they'll change their choices. Until then, we watch the takers multiply.

So I load my groceries into the momvan, turn on the radio (remember radios? the momvan sports state of the art AM/FM/casette), and my life-long theme song comes blasting out at me. Gotta love that.