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Likely because half our nation worships wealth regardless of where it came from. 

Image by Worley Dervish. 

In November, Congress cut food stamps for nearly 50 million people, and even more cuts are on the table.

While the right-wing has worked hard to smear SNAP recipients, here are stories of real, live people who have been affected by cuts to the government program that they depend on to...

The number of Americans who are poor enough to qualify for food stamps has increased by a disturbing 30 million in the last 13 years. In 2000, 17 million Americans were receiving food stamps; in 2013, the number is 47 million. Hoping to stir up racial tensions, far-right AM radio talk show hosts and Fox News wingnuts try to paint food stamp recipients as strictly or mostly people of color. But the facts don’t bear that out. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, roughly half of food stamp recipients are non-Hispanic whites (in Ohio, it’s around 65%). So when Republicans vote to cut food stamps, many of the people they are hurting are white. OnSeptember 19, Republicans in the House of Representatives voted to slash billions of dollars from the U.S. food stamp program during the worst economic downturn since the Great Depression of the 1930s.

Former House Speaker Newt Gingrich’s description of Obama as the “food stamp president” was obviously designed to inflame racial tensions and paint African Americans as freeloaders, but Gingrich neglected to mention that many of the people he considers freeloaders are actually white. When Republicans and the Tea Party contribute to hunger by attacking food stamps, people of color aren’t the only ones who suffer: Republicans are physically harming their own base. Slashing food stamp benefits won’t harm the Koch brothers or JPMorgan Chase CEO Jamie Dimon, but it will definitely harm poor whites in a place like McDowell County, West Virginia, which is 94% white (according to the U.S. Census Bureau), rural and has a life expectancy of only 63.9 for males and 72.9 for females (according to a report that the Institute of Health Metrics and Evaluation at the University of Washington released in July 2013). If life expectancy is any indication, the economic conditions for white males in McDowell County aren’t much better than the economic conditions in Haiti, where, according to the World Health Organization, males have a life expectancy of 62. In contrast to McDowell County, that study showed a life expectancy of 81.4 for males and 85.0 for females in Marin County, California—which is affluent and heavily Democratic.

Owsley County, Kentucky is another example of a place that is predominantly white (97.6%), heavily Republican (Romney won 81% of the vote in Owsley County in 2012) and full of poverty. Bloomberg News has reported that in 2011, 52% of the county’s residents were receiving food stamps—which Rep. Hal Rogers, the Republican who represents Owsley County, voted in favor of slashing. From Kentucky to Mississippi to West Virginia, Republicans who were elected by an abundance of poor whites have voted in favoring of cutting food stamps.

There is no shortage of data on life expectancy that shows a downward trend for poor whites. In September 2012, the New York Times reported that poorer white males were dying much younger than more affluent white males: according to the Times, life expectancy had fallen to 67.5 years for the least educated white males compared to 80.4 for the more educated white males. And theTimes reported that life expectancy was 73.5 for the less educated white females compared to 83.9 for the more educated white females—which is also bad news for the GOP because even though white males are more likely than white females to vote Republican, white females are more likely to vote Republican than African American or Hispanic females. And depriving either white males or white females of access to food and healthcare certainly isn’t going to help them live longer.

The real frauds are those who, in the face of facts, still choose to believe that individuals receiving a little over a hundred dollars worth of aid a month are greedy mooches yet take no issue with corporate welfare doled out to already thriving “people” to the tune of billions. Welfare queens exist, but you’re not going to find them in housing projects.

A World Without Him

Chapter 8

(TW minor violence against furniture and some self-loathing thoughts)

Tang could hear the voices through the piles of broken bookshelves and ceiling bits. He didn't think they were hallucinations, as they got more frantic near his safe area and how he heard big pieces being carefully dragged outside.

He didn't know what to do. It wasn't like he could move all the layers covering him himself. Maybe if he yelled out, someone could finally hear him.

"H-hello?! Is anyone out there?!" He shouted with a shakey voice. Almost right after, he could hear the talking stop and someone sprinting over the rubble towards his area.

"Hey there; I'm with the Metrapolis first responders! Where are you?!" A woman yelled out into the crash site.

Tang scrambles up to the edge of his collapsed prison. "I'm down here! There's lots of debris covering me, but I'm alright! Please try digging to my left first. My friend is down there, and please hurry!" He yelled with a bit of desperation.

"Ok, stay there and don't move sir! We'll have more people here soon to clear all this out!" She shouted in response, most likely sprinting towards where the ceiling fell...

Tang decided to stop that train of thought. He needed to wait for the backup to arrive; someone to haul him out of here. Like always, he supposes.

So he waits. The unusual silence gives way to the grating of stone, wood, and drywall as he knows they're digging out Allan. He'll be okay. Tang stopped him from running right underneath the collapsed ceiling, so he's still alive. He must be.

Tang also knew when reinforcements arrived. The harsher steps from heavy-duty boots along with the many steps he hears overlap basically gave them away.

He stayed silent, though, so as not to disturb the now very delicate shell of debris surrounding him.

He waited for a while before he could hear a big chunck getting thrown from his left and on top of his area. The added weight caused pieces to break off and his "ceiling" to give way, now with it barely crushing his skull.

He gasped, then coughed from the debris that was shaken loose, covering him in a layer of dust. Pieces of splintered wood and some jagged metal now stick out in the corners.

More yelling started after that. Tang mostly just focused on his breathing again.

When he got back to his senses yet again, he heard picks and gloved hands clawing at his barrier of debris.

He almost cried in relief as the moonlight stone through the new cracks in his dome. He slowly watched as the hole got bigger and bigger, with more and more hands helping to carefully dig him out.

Once the hole was big enough, someone reached their hand down for Tang to grab. He gripped it tightly as he was slowly risen out of his confines.

He blinked at the sudden change in light, still out of it from his time trapped in that place. He was suddenly coerced to an emergency vehicle in the library parking lot, seeing the many paramedics wheeling in people from the library storage area.

He looked at his surroundings as they walked; he could see the ceiling was in total shreds at this point, with the standing walls looking like swiss cheese.

All the people who made it to the storage unit gained only minor injuries, as they all seemed to be walking, talking, and didn't have any blood on them.

As he continued to move towards the emergency vehicle, the ground covered in rubble turned to concrete as they made it to the sidewalk. He could feel his shoulder throbbing with pain as he sat down for the medics on site.

They did everything routinely, giving him a shock blanket, testing his cognitive ability, and so what. "You're all right, sir. Your shoulder just needs padding, and no sudden movements for it to heal up properly. You're very lucky, and you can go back to your residence now."

Tang just nodded in response, seeing them walk back towards another shock patient. He slumped into himself and took off his glasses, rubbing his temple.

Why couldn't I ever do something right, he thought. His thoughts stirred to Allan. Is he really okay? I should've done better. What if he's dead?! He can't be. He'll be okay. He'll be fine. You'll be fine.

He grumbled to himself, stopping his train of thought. He put his glasses back on and stood up, looking out for any free paramedics to ask about Allan.

He had only taken a few steps before a group of paramedics came barreling into the parking lot, rushing past him with many of them hurrying a gurney to the closest ambulance.

Tang could only catch a glimpse of the patient, but he saw their hoodie. Tang almost threw up when he saw him. It was Allan. Allan, who now had a severed leg. The bloody end of his leg dripped red liquid down onto the ground, with the jagged bone jutting out the end.

"Allan!" Tang yelled out, running up to the gurney. He was held back by the other paramedics, their words becoming jumbled as he only focused on Allan.

The rest of him didn't look much better from what Tang could see. Many scrapes and bruises covered his arms and legs, with debris covering his entire body. His eyes were glassed over with his matted hair falling on top of them. But he still had a heartbeat, even if it was a faint one.

Tang could have sworn he saw those eyes look towards him, but then the ambulance doors were closed before he could do anything else, the vehicle speeding off after they backed Tang away from getting hit.

All Tang could do was watch as they drove away, with another paramedic guiding him to a place to sit down. He had asked where the ambulance would drop off Allan so he could see him, but he was denied as he wasn't a guardian or family member.

So he walked away, back through the now dark sidewalk, and on his way home. His steps were sluggish, moving slowly as his mind went blank.

His body moved on its own as he walked into the building, up the many flights of stairs, and took out his keys to unlock his apartment.

He locked the door immeadietly after he got inside, taking off his shoes and throwing them at the wall. His other things got lost in the rubble...

Yeah, go and worry about your precious sketch book and comics as Allan is in the hospital.

Tang grimaced and looked at his apartment, everything tidy and stacked together in organized piles from his morning spree.

You were a hassle yet again. Always being dragged along because of your own incompetence.

Everything in his apartment seemed wrong. Too clean, too tidy, too nice for someone like Tang.

If you weren't there, maybe Allan would have made it to the storage room.

He didn't like the look of the room.

He could have been safe instead of carrying your weak ass around that library.

He walked up his coffee table, a vase with a single flower, and two stacks of books and papers on top of the brittle table.

He might have made it out alive if you didn't have him die-

He violently grabbed the glass vase and threw it against an empty wall.

*CRASH*

Glass scatters everywhere, some of the pieces embedding into his flimsy walls. Some even nicked Tang, but he didn't notice yet. The water from it coated the wall in a dark color.

It's your fault.

His heartbeat pounded through his ears. He took the pile papers next, ripping his useless scribbles up repeatedly until they became only scraps. His shoulder throbs with pain.

He's injured, and it's your fault.

He runs to his books after, taking handfuls and throwing them in every which way. Some hit picture frames, scattering even more glass, while some hit his other piles, causing them to tip and fall over with books, clothes, and other trinkets.

He's dead because of YOU.

"SHUT, UP!" Tang yelled. He swung his hand down onto the coffee table with startling accuracy. A sickening crunch resounded through his apartment. He could feel his tears run hot against his face.

He gasped.

The coffee table was now split in two, the impact of his hand steaming from small embers on the splintered wood. His eyes widened as he looked to his balled up hand. It had a faint orange hue.

But as Tang blinked, it was gone. Yet, when he looked back at the table, it was still steaming, just now simmering down to a small smoke.

Now, only his labored breathing could be heard as he stood still in the middle of his apartment. He could only stare at the destruction he had caused.

Now this looks perfect.

He smacked his own forehead, dragging his hand down his face. He wiped his eyes as a small breeze blew through the apartment. Maybe one of the windows got dislodged from his episode.

Tang sighed heavily before stepping carefully around the mess he made, flopping onto the ragged couch that somehow survived. His phone jumped up from his added weight before hitting the glass covered floor.

Oh, yeah. I threw it there this morning when it died...

Tang sighed slightly before picking his phone off the floor, dusting off tiny glass shards, and pressing the power button. Nothing came up. He grumbled before trekking over to his bedroom and plugging it into the charger.

He threw his glasses on his bedside table before falling face first onto his bed. The blurred shapes of his room comforted him as he rolled onto his back.

His eyes felt droopy as the colors around blurred even more. They shifted and coerced into a soft sunset orange-

*BANG, BANG, BANG*

"Tang! You better open this door RIGHT NOW!"

Tang sat up quickly, breathing fast as the knocking continued. He scrambled up and out of his bed before running to the front door, careful not to step on anymore scraps on his messy floor.

He opened the door right before his guest could harshly knock yet again. He almost had to dodge the pink fist coming his way before it pulled back suddenly.

Pigsy on all his glory stood outside Tangs door with a very peeved look on his face. Tang doesn't know if he could handle being berated for whatever he had apparently done to Pigsy after everything today.

But to his surprise, Pigsy's expression quickly turned to one of deep concern as he looked Tang up and down. "What is it, Pigsy?" Tang asked in a scratchy voice.

Pigsy didn't respond for a good minute. But when he did, almost nothing could stop that man's wrath as he started to stomp into Tang's apartment. "What the hell happened to you, Tang?! Everyone has been texting and calling you, and you never picked up! And now you look like total shit with your outfit in complete shambles! We couldn't reach you through anything, and I had to come up her myself-"

Tang hurridly pulled Pigsy back from his apartment carpet, with Pigsy now fully aware of the new "decor" he had recently put in.

Pigsy was seemingly about to go on another rant after a brief glance at his apartment, but Tang quickly hushed him. "Please, Pigsy. I don't think I can handle anything else happening today. I feel like absolute shit, I got stuck under a building for hours, and all I want right now is some peace and quiet. I promise to talk to you about this tomorrow, but for now, just give me a day, please."

Pigsy seemed conflicted at this, looking at Tang, and then past him at his apartment a few times. He eventually sighs in defeat but quickly puts up some gusto. "Tomorrow. Come by tomorrow in the morning, and you'll tell me everything. If I don't see you by noon, I'll go here and drag you there myself."

Tang just smiles at Pigsy; it's a bit strained but still genuine. "Thank you." Tang says softly. Pigsy just nodded, looking sadly at Tang as he closed the door.

Tang leaned onto the door, making sure that Pigsy's footsteps were actually leaving before letting out a breath of relief.

When he finally made it back to his bed, Tang was convinced he could drop in a heartbeat if he fell onto his bed right now.

But of course, he never got the chanceas his phone came alight and buzzed like over and over after it finally powered back on. He startled a bit, sighed, and then picked up his phone before sitting at the edge of his bed.

His phone had been blowing up with messages, missed calls, and... ads about textbook sales? Tang quickly saved the ad for later before looking through his call list.

Through his cracked phone screen, he just huffed when he saw about 26 missed calls.

Most of them were from Pigsy, with 6 from Sandy, three from Mei, and one from Mk. He hesitated a second before opening his texts. He winced as he saw there were over 40 unread messages.

Some were from the group chat, most of the first ones being pictures of Mk after the library fight holding up cheese tea a block from the library...

Tang scrolled past the pictures and instead looked for his name in any of the unread texts. He found out he was only mentioned after Mk specified where he had his most recent fight.

🌟 The Gang 🌟

8:08 PM

Mk: Yeah! It wss a HUGE guy witha a weird lookin sword this time

Pigsy: you sure you're doing ok kid?

Mk: yes im fine

Mk: the ppace we fought is in way worse shape thogh

Mei: Mk's right. When I went to pick him up, the place had been rly totaled! With the ceiling completely destroyed 'nd the walls left in complete shambles!

Sandy: Was everyone involved okay???

Mei: don't worry sm Sandy

Mei: Mk saw everyone head to the DA shelter, and they all came out fine afterwards

Mk: yeah at least the guy I fought had some sense not to aim for the flor

Pigsy: they had an entire shelter ready? Where did you even fight, kid?

Mk: it was at the Metrapolis Library

Mk: im so sad too because I can't get anymore comics from that place for awhile

Pigsy: Wait, isn't that where Tang started working a day ago?

Mei: oh yeah! I didn't see him come out of the DA shelter tho

Sandy: has anyone contacted him since yesterday?

8:09 PM

Pigsy: everyone try calling him

8:11 PM

Sandy: Tang hasn't responded to my texts or calls

Mk: i ended up having to call after texting him so many times nd he didn't pick up

Mei: he hasn't responded to me either

Pigsy: I'll keep calling him to see if he'll pick up

8:17 PM

Pigsy: he hasn't responded even once

Mk: does anyone know where he is?

Sandy: maybe someone should go to his apartment?

Mei: he has his own apartment????

Pigsy: I'm going up there to see him. I'll tell you guys if he responds or if he's even there

Tang turned off his phone after reading the last text. He could only sigh at the messages before moving to turn off all his lights, sweep most of the scattered glass to the sides, and close the open window.

When he finally got to fall onto his bed again, all he could think about was Allan. If he was okay, if he was alive, and if he could find a way to find him again.

Well, he should try that tomorrow after Pigsy's. I could try to ask about his name in any of the nearby hospitals... maybe if I... try enough of them...

And then Tang succumbed to his exhaustion, falling into a deep sleep as his world went black.

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