If You're Poor, It's Your Fault

If you were born in the ghetto, trailer park, barrio or slums and now you're grown and have children and still there, don't blame nobody but yourself. If you wanted to get out of your situation, you could of. There's no excuse. Truth is, a lot of poor people like being poor. Matter of fact, they love it. They love getting those three to five thousand dollar or more tax refund checks even though they don't have a job so they can buy big screen tv's from Walmart and the new Air Jordan's for their kid.

My wife used to work at the welfare office. One day I waited outside in my car for her to get off of work. I saw a girl about seventeen or eighteen years old with a baby going into the office. She was followed by her mother and her grandmother. All of them were on assistance.

My wife's parents died, so we had to go to the Social Security Office. I didn't see anyone in there over the age of sixty five. It was a bunch of "so called" disabled people walking around looking healthier than I was, trying to get some free money. We were embarrassed to be there thinking we were going to be grouped in with them. I could hear side conversations of how they were getting their hustle on.

It is especially shameful, if you have any shame, to be a man and be on the welfare system. I'm not saying that people don't need a helping hand sometimes, especially when you get out of jail or fall on hard times. It happens to everyone at some point in life. But if you're middle aged and still crying the same "Woo is me. I ain't got no money." bullshit, it's your fault.
Poor people have every excuse in the world why they are poor, but in reality, they have no excuse. If you have six kids and you can't afford them, whose fault is that? You didn't just wake up with kids. For people that get out of jail and say they can't find a job, they're liars. The reason they're liars is because if there were no jobs available, the Mexicans wouldn't be running over here to work. It's their pride that says "I'm not shoveling shit." "I'm not working in a slaughter house." "I'm not picking vegetables on a farm." Yet, they'll work while in jail for fifty cent an hour for their commissary.

Truth be told, you may be born into your circumstance, but you don't have to stay there. If you want to get out of the ghetto, you're going to have to work hard and make plenty of sacrifices. You may have to work at McDonalds in the day time, Burger King at night and Kentucky Fried Chicken on the weekends. It all pays money. That's when you have to swallow your pride and do what you have to do. There's nothing wrong with an honest days work. It's all money. It spends the same. So if you're poor, it's your fault.

Ghetto Bastard: A Memoir (Volume 1) and Ghetto Bastard 2 (Volume 2) by Russell Vann


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