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Poor Don't Deserve My Paycheck My new roommate John, who introduced himself as a "bleeding-heart," and I drove across the river to Merritt Island to try some Maryland Fried Chicken. Since I had only known him a few hours, I decided to make some ice-breaking conversation. "About how much money does Uncle Sam deduct from our paychecks, as co-ops?" "Around twenty percent," he replied, and then editorialized: "Of course, if that greasy-haired cowboy in the White House would quit trying to make enough weapons to blow up Russia, we could keep more of our money." "Well, if you bleeding-hearts would quit paying all the poor people to make more babies, we could keep more of our money. If your cronies would quit funding abortions, we could keep more of our money. If the liberals would quit combating efforts to teach children some solid American values in school, we could keep more of our money. If the altruists would quit rewarding need while taxing excellence, we could keep more of our money. If you people would just wake up, we could keep more of our money!" My roommate was aghast. His double-chin hit the tiled floor. "Oh, please! Don't tell me you're another supporter of the Reagan Revolution!" "I am. Now listen to me. When Reagan took office, he had a three-fold goal: to cut taxes, to raise defense spending, and to balance the budget. In order to accomplish this task, there was only one option: to cut out massive chunks of the remaining federal budget. But in spite of the landslide 1980 Republican victory, Congress has still strangled all efforts at chopping out social programs." "Well, that's because they actually had some compassion and kindness in their hearts, unlike that stupid B-western movie star." I chuckled at this thought. We ordered our chicken dinners, and then continued our conversation at a booth by the window. "Kindness? Compassion?" I asked. "Guess again. Those turkeys on Capitol Hill are looking for votes. They will fight to keep every little federal program that helps their state or district, for the sole purpose of maintaining their cushy power positions. They don't care that they are running the nation into bankruptcy. They don't care that they are reducing the initiative of both rich and poor by playing governmental Robin Hood. They care only about the here and now, and about re-elections." John polished off a chicken wing, and then wiped the grease from his lips. "Oh, I see. So you're going to let Grandma starve to death." "What did I just say? You see, you have a vested self-interest in taking a piece out of my paycheck to pay for your starving grandmother, or your pregnant daughter, or your AIDS-stricken brother. But why should I have to pay for other people's health problems, which are not my problems, while our defense against unfriendly forces dwindles?" "We don't need all those weapons!" my roommate yelled. A few customers turned and looked our way. He lowered his voice. "Nations that build up to war usually go to war!" "Another liberal lie. Nations that refuse to prepare for war end up getting trampled by unfriendly aggressors. Hitler trampled over his neighbors because he had a great war machine and they didn't. We must learn from their mistakes, and our own. Unilateral disarmament has been worthless. While we cut down, the Soviets built up." "And now we have thousands of missiles on both sides ready to blow each other up!" "Would you rather have thousands of missiles on their side and none on ours? What did I just say ten seconds ago? While we cut down, the Soviets built up. Wake up, roommie. Reagan has brought our defenses to their proper level, and the Soviets have now appeared at the negotiating table." "But we need that missile money to feed the inner city poor," John said. His voice had drifted an octave higher. "There you go with your infinite altruism, again. You act as though feeding people were the government's job. But who is `the government'? It is we—you, I, and every other American." John was about to take a bite out of his freshly baked butter biscuit when I snatched it from his fingertips and asked, "How would you like it if you were hungry, but someone else were hungrier and claimed some inalienable right to the food that you worked so hard to earn?" "Well, I'd still give him some food." So I took a nibble from his biscuit. John let out a small yelp and was about to accost me, but I held up my hand to disarm him, and then placed my untouched biscuit on his plate. He promptly gobbled it up. I continued, pointing my new biscuit at him for emphasis. "Then how would you like it if I walked into your home with a gun and stole some of your food to give to the starving man, while taking a large pinch for myself as a handling fee?" I took a big bite from the biscuit. John answered, "You have no right to charge a handling fee!" "Well, there you are. That is the difference between charity and welfare. If you want to make a sacrifice of your property, then that is your business. But leave my property alone." I finished off the bread and followed it with a gulp of Dr. Pepper. John's right eye began to twitch a bit, and he said, "But compassion is a moral obligation, and I don't care what the majority of this nation thinks, we should help these people!" "Fine. Do it with your own money and your own efforts. But please do not dip into my paycheck in the process. As far as I am concerned, every individual is totally and personally responsible only to take care of himself, not the bum on the street. So please, keep your welfare state leeches out of my wallet."
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