I respect others who see the world from different points of view, and I know that it’s a little cliche for a private school liberal arts grad to talk about service to the poor. But as much as one has a right to their own opinion, a certain amount of discretion is called for in professional situations. I took offense Wednesday when my university-appointed mentor stopped a small-group discussion session on Homelessness in America by saying,
“Okay, let’s move on to a lighter topic. Did everyone vote? Who in here is a Republican?” and then proceeds, on no uncertain terms to talk about how the over-taxation of orthopedic surgeons favors the giving of money to women who are “having kids just to get another Welfare check.” Every point she made, her perfectly manicured hand would hammer silently onto her Louis-Vuitton laptop case.
She hit most major stereotypes about the American poor, from lazy bums to drug addicts to how all poor people should “just pull themselves up by their bootstraps,” as she had done. Right. Because as a Vietnamese orphan adopted by upper middle-class Californians, she had only herself to credit for her successes. My guess is that left to her own devices, she’d be sewing shoes in a sweat shop right now.
She moved on to complain with one of my classmates about why we shouldn’t help individuals who trade food stamps for cigarettes and fancy rims (“wheels that spin”) before griping about how the rising prices of gasoline cost her a fortune each time she filled up her Hummer.
I promise I’m not embellishing. This kind of material is too overdone to be good satire.
