Humblecity

So, I am paid with public fundage; it’s not a big secret. Shit, you could figure out exactly what I make if you knew where I worked; any public employee’s salary paid with public funds is available for review by any tax payer. File of Freedom of Information Act form asking for said information, or, in most cases and ask and you’ll get an answer.
On the taxpayer’s dime I’m, and other publicly funded employees, are held to a higher standard of scrutiny. We screw up on the job or even in our personal lives and we’re called on the carpet for our actions. We can’t even smoke pot on weekends without the fear of a random drug test the following Monday, or worse, someone seeing us and ratting us out. Moral turpitude takes on a whole new meaning. Not only do you not want your mother to read about your actions in the newspaper, but even worse, you do not want your immediate boss to hear about your raucous party Saturday night; or, in my case, damn if every time I go to buy beer a kid or a parent is directly behind me in line.
All that said, Hell Yeah, these fucking companies who have received bailout money need some type of government oversight. These fat cat CEO’s do NOT need a golden parachute with my money. I don’t get a golden parachute – hell Im just gonna get pushed out of the plane and given a brief wave as I plummet head first toward the big ol’ X on the landing zone. If they are using tax payer money to line their pockets on the way out of the door as their former company cuts thousands of jobs, then yes, we have the right to determine how many feathers keeps their pockets comfy.
Obama limited it $500,000 for salary; still too much. If the CEO lived within his or her means then the ending shouldn’t matter much. If you make millions upon millions – then that list bit at the end, does it really matter? It shouldn’t – not if you didn’t buy the G5 or the homes abroad or in multiple states or the lux cars or the bling bling that would out the eye of the first DeBeer.
I’m just glad that someone is finally remembering how it feels to be stuck in the middle – between the way-too-expensive house payments and the staggering cost of just being alive day-to-day without the help of a house staff or brand name clothing and shoes.
Now instead of eating Kobe beef flown in from Japan that day – the CEO’s will have to door with corn-fed Kansas steer. But hey, I’m still waiting for the day they got to eat Kraft Mac and Cheese for dinner while drinking cold, instant tea from a plastic pitcher stained a reddish purple from all the times Kool Aid has called the pitcher home.