The Welfare Snob

Here's the deal...I'm a snob. I hate to admit this fact, but I am...a big fat snob. The thought of moving ANYWHERE that individuals find it appropriate to leave their trash cans at the curb all week long, thus forcing repeated trips to the street to deposit ones rubbish, makes me ill.

I find cars parked in that same street, let alone facing the WRONG direction, a sign of plain laziness, not to mention the dangers this presents for any children that might attempt to play outside.

I'm a snob...on Welfare. I'm mortified by the utter lack of care people have in their homes. You don't have to be wealthy to care for your home, or yourself. I've been doing this rental house search thing for over a week now, and the conclusion I've come to is this:

We are a nation of apathetic slackers who point the finger and blame rather than step up and clean the car parts out of the front yard.

I'm looking at properties in such hideous stages of disrepair I'm not even sure they're livable. In neighborhoods so invested with drugs you can smell the sulphur when you exit the car, so riddled with crime I wouldn't feel safe VISITING let alone LIVING there.

This is my America.
This is your America.
This is Al's America.

Why? Because no one gives a hamster's ass. These are the dream homes of the post world war two baby boom, abandoned to no one in particular. These are the real casualties of Urban Renewal...left on someones doorstep with a note that says "Please find me a flippin home"

I am stuck between worlds, lost in a concrete jungle town that boasts 74 Sonics and as many Pentecostal churches. The clock is ticking...I'm running on empty, and America the beautiful for amber waves of grain... does not give a crap.