Lottery Winners, Your Medicaid Days Are Numbered (So Says Fred Upton)

>Snapshot Of Satisfaction (2014-Style)<

Lottery winners, your Medicaid days are numbered. That's the gist of a news release from U.S. Rep. Fred Upton (R-St.Joseph) that slid over the email transom this week, and -- like nearly all of the current Republic majority's communiques, is a masterful snapshot of satire. That is, unintentional satire. However, I'm being much too modest. Fred's style speaks well enough for itself, Orwellian grey front and all:

"U..S. Rep. Fred Upton, R-St. Joseph, introduced legislation, H.R. 829, the Prioritizing the Most Vulnerable Over Lottery Winners Act of 2017, in the U.S. House of Representatives that would strengthen Medicaid for those who need it most.

“Medicaid is meant to help the most vulnerable amongst us – not high-dollar Lottery winners,” said Upton. “Our common-sense solution would alter how Medicaid eligibility is determined for those lucky enough to hit it big playing the Lottery, while continuing to prioritize the low-income population the program is meant to assist. I will continue to work on a bipartisan basis to strengthen critical programs like Medicaid to ensure they best serve our communities.”

"Under Medicaid regulations, income received as a lump sum, such as lottery winnings, is counted as income only in the month received. As a result, states are effectively not allowed to dis-enroll lottery winners from Medicaid. This forces taxpayers to bear the burden of paying the health care benefits for individuals who no longer require assistance. H.R. 829 will close this loophole by requiring states to count monetary winnings from lotteries of $80,000 or more as if they were obtained over multiple months, even if obtained in a single month.

In 2015, Upton created a Medicaid Task Force to strengthen and sustain the critical program and has a long record of working hard to ensure programs like Medicare and Medicaid are there for those that need them now and solvent for future generations. "

Got that, then?

Mind you, I don't personally know any Lottery winners living it up on Medicaid, but in UptonWorld, that's who we apparently need protection from -- as exemplified by what he catchily calls his proposed bill (Prioritizing the Most Vulnerable Over Lottery Winners Act). This, of course, is a time-honored Republican trick: slapping some fuzzily-sounding Orwellian euphemism to mask the real purpose, however vague or ill-defined, (Undoubtedly, when Trump and his finks push their bills to put Medicaid and Medicare on the chopping block, they'll be named: The Preserving Medicaid & Medicare For Future Generations Acts, or something along those lines.)

The other issue is, what constitutes a big enough payday: As former Replacements frontman Paul Westerberg once noted, there are times when no amount feels like it's enough: “I’ve never really worried about money. I’ve had enough to get by. I was a millionaire for one whole day and then came the manager, the taxman and I bought a house. This was around the ’14 Songs’ album. I signed a deal with Warner Chappell. The money was gone in an afternoon, literally.” (Classic Rock, November 2004)

Some states, like Michigan, have pushed aggressively to protect the Great Unwashed from those lottery-wnning freeloaders, as the mlive.com clipping below makes plain. In most cases, though, the winners turn out to be elderly, the poor, or people with disabilities, whose lifetime needs are way bigger than any one-time payout. (And, don't forget, those amounts shrink drastically, once the state and federal taxmen take their cut.)

Of course, this is the far right Republican mentality laid bare. (And we can put those phrases in the same sentence, because, hell...how many liberal GOP'ers are walking the landscape these days?) When you try to take a buck from them or their overstuffed buddies in business, they howl with outrage: "That's class warfare, man! You can't do that!" But when it's time to take that figurative candy away from a baby, especially one from a poor area, they don't even blink. Out come their greedy, greasy, grimy, grubby little fingers to snatch it away. 

However, if the barrage of boycotts, lawsuits and protests that are already greeting Trump, Upton and the finks who walk, talk -- and smell -- just like them are any indication, this baby is beginning to show distinct signs of keeping a kung fu grip on its lollipop. --The Reckoner

Links To Go (Hurry, Before The GOP
Bumps You From Public Assistance):
800-Plus Michigan Lottery Winners Kicked Off Public Assistance:
http://www.mlive.com/lansing-news/index.ssf/2014/10/more_than_800_michigan_lottery.html

Life's Little Injustices (Take IX): I Work Two Jobs (But Have No Money)

<That familiar sinking feeling...?>
<Picture: http://advice.careerbuilder.com/posts/8-tips-for-juggling-parttime-jobs>

Like many of these rough snapshots, this one starts simply enough. There's a gas station on the corner that I patronize semi-regularly for my pop, whenever I'm traipsing back from my latest assignment. It's also a good opportunity to check whatever stories might have run already.

Eventually, on Sunday and Monday nights, I notice a different type of cashier working there: a burly, graying gent with black horn-rimmed glasses...I'll call him Rick, whose presence here is something of a surprise. Here, you're most likely to see teen and twentysomething women -- minority, more than often not -- manning the register. By contrast, I've only seen three guys treading these particular boards. Including Rick.

Bit by bit, I get into little sidebar conversations with Rick, who doesn't seem to mind. (Anything to move the minute hand, right? Been there, done that.) More often than not, our talks focus on the election. We bond over something simple: Rick hates Clinton and Trump, and isn't voting for either of them. As I've explained here, neither do I.

Tonight, though, the talk shifts elsewhere. I pick up a paper, crack a joke about "Breaking Bad," and get ready to pay for my latest pop. "Not too sure about that one -- I watched it a few times, didn't do much for me," Rick volunteers. "I like 'Bones,' though. 'Body Of Proof,' stuff like that. That's really good."

I reach for three singles. "Well, maybe you check out 'Better Call Saul,'" I suggest. "I've been watching it three years now, and it seems well on its way to surpassing 'Breaking Bad,' since we're seeing most of those characters before the drug world overtook them."

"Yeah, now that you mention it..." Rick's fingers dance over the cash register, like they've done a million times before, always one step away from a permanent flirtation with carpal tunnel syndrome.  "I did see the first episode of that, on demand. Seemed pretty good."

"Caught any since? I know it's on Monday night, and that's when you're here, so I could see where that's a problem."

"Well, actually..." Rick curls his lower lip into a sheepish smile. "It's because I can't always keep the TV on."

I don't know how to respond, at first. Then it dawns on me: oh, shit, he means the cable TV, not the regular TV. Rick finishes ringing me up, and pushes my two two-liters over to me. "I work two jobs, but have no money," he shrugs.

I fumble for something incisive to say, but can't muster more than, "I'm sorry to hear it. Hope your situation gets better."

But that's not likely to happen in the short run, for Rick and too many millions of others like him. His fiftysomething face is one that I increasingly see at jobs like these, at church food pantries and community dinners, free dental clinics and sliding scale health care programs, the face of resignation that signals -- when you stand by them in line -- life wasn't supposed to end like this. 

As for me, I'm paddling as best as I can. What infuriates me, though, is seeing more and more graying faces lining up with me, for food, medical care and all those other necessities you can't exactly think of going without. They didn't ask to roll these crap-laden dice that have condemned them to running harder and harder in place, yet falling further and further behind.

They didn't want to play the heavily-stacked hand that sent them tumbling down the rabbit holes of disappearing jobs, steep cuts in social benefits, or the smoldering wreckage of a pension plan gone haywire. They knew what ruin lay around the corner when some higher authority punched a calculator of his own -- remember, it's usually a "he' that makes such decisions -- and punched them a ticket to permanent employment oblivion.

No, the Ricks of the world didn't expect -- nor ask for -- any of these things. But for the next four years, no matter who wins, that's exactly what they'll be expected to do. And that's what aggravates me the most. --The Reckoner

Links To Go: Click Now (Before You Need A Fifth Job):
CNN Money: I Work Four Jobs And I'm Still Struggling:
http://money.cnn.com/2013/12/12/news/economy/4-low-wage-part-time-jobs/

CNN Money: Sick Days: A Luxury
Many Hourly Workers Don't Have:

http://money.cnn.com/2013/12/06/news/new-york-sick-days/index.html?iid=EL

U.S. News & World Report: The Part-Time Recovery:
http://www.usnews.com/news/the-report/articles/2015/08/23/the-part-time-economic-recovery

Race To The Bottom: The H-1-B Blues

It's a big vision in the first world
But no one's seein' the other connection

Somebody's stuck in the fourth world

And the sun's goin' down in the wrong direction

There's a big vision

There's a big vision

In the fourth world

<Screaming Blue Messiahs:
"Smash The Market Place">

<i.>

If you live in a town dominated by one large corporate employer, like I do, don't blink too quickly....or you'll miss the funny things going down. Though it's theoretically nice to have one company employing hundreds or thousands at a time, that arrangement also carries big drawbacks. The obvious one, of course, is that they can leave (or go under) as quickly as they've arrived.

And once a company becomes entrenched, it quickly morphs into something less desirable: the 800-pound gorilla (think Consumers Power in Jackson, MI). Before long, the corporate gorillas who never stop thinking of how to benefit off the sweat of other begin to exert an outsized influence, one way out of proportion to their actual numbers. 

A good example is the battles that communities are often forced to wage against big box stores seeking to avoid paying their share of taxes via the so-called "dark store" valuation method -- one that forced Marquette Township to refund $755,828 to Lowes, and wound up drastically curtailing the local library's hours (among other blowbacks). 

As always, it's the taxpayers who foot the bill, with a giant screw driven through their spine. What else is new? (For a snapshot of how this hustle works, see the link below, although I think the blogger's elation is way premature -- it's not dead until the Michigan Supreme Court, to whom the big boxes will surely appeal, shoots down the practice. With a solid Republican majority dominating the court, the big boxes have no reason to break out into a cold sweat just yet. Trust me on this.)

Of course, with disposable property comes disposable labor. One sign, at least in our little town, are the masses of Indians moving into our complex. Unlike many people I know, they don't seem to be going without: they always seem to drive the latest model cars, and never return home without shopping till they drop. The American Dream seems to be working out pretty well for them. (Ditto for the gas station owner whom I saw stepping out of a massive black Hummer in front of the bank last week.) So what's the discordant note in this homespun picture?

They got a big vision,

big vision in the fourth world

Don't miss the connection, 

'cause the sun's goin' down in the wrong direction.

Smash it into tomorrow

Smash it into spite!

<ii.>

Well, as always, I asked around a little bit, and got the answer. Most of them are here on contracts with our town's mega-employer. The main entry point is the H-!-B visa, which allows U.S. companies to bring foreign workers temporarily. The program dates back to 1990, when President George Bush (The Elder) created it to solve a serious shortage of skilled labor....or so he and his minions said.

However, as an article in the Charlotte Observer suggests, the program has become the latest unsavory vehicle for American companies to undercut their own workers by flooding the nation with cheaper outsourced labor. How cheap, you ask? Well, as longtime advocates like U.S. Rep. Zoe Lofgren have finally admitted, the going rate for a computer services analyst in her district -- which includes Silicon Valley -- is $52,000 for the H-1-B visa worker, versus $92,000 for his U.S. counterpart.  No wonder CEOs are busting such a collective gut.

What's more, as the Observer details, IT workers are often asked to train their replacements before they're laid off for good -- how's that feel before the door smacks against your nether regions? Still, I wonder why people play along with such a dog and pony show. What's the point of greasing your humiliation if your job's gone up in smoke? (Speaking from experience, I wouldn't, and I haven't.)

When pressed, employers naturally claim that they're lacking the labor to get their work done. Of course, this defense is often a dodge, since much of the work being outsourced doesn't always involve skilled labor. As one of the displaced IT workers told the Observer: "The jobs that we're replacing here aren't rocket science. It's database developers, skills you can learn through a four-year program....at any major American university."

This is only one snapshot behind the phenomenon that fueled Donald Trump's rise during this election cycle. The Donald, of course, has zigzagged on this issue -- promising to crack down against H-1-B abuses, on one hand, while holding out some leeway for certain sectors of the economy, like Silicon Valley, on the other -- so I wouldn't look him for salvation, anymore than his (cough, cough, ahem) Democratic counterpart, Hillary Clinton.

I'm trying to square all of these images and statistics with a more disturbing one: a good friend whom I've paid to step in whenever my computer starts sending coded messages from another galaxy. He charges by the project, not the hour, and has never had to do anything over. He can explain what he does in a way that makes sense (unlike a lot of IT denizens I've encountered). 

He's an unassuming guy who's caring for his mom right now, which is one reason why he's not working full-time....but if he ever did, I'm sure any company would find him an asset to their payroll. But I don't see anybody rushing to offer him a contract, let alone the crumb of a temp job, nor anything similar....and therein lies the problem. And why the groundswell, and the popular outcry against such practices, will only continue to grow. --The Reckoner

Links To Go (Start Your Race
To The Bottom Right Here):

Electablog: Appeals Court Ruling
Brings An End To Big Box Stores 
Ripping Off Local Communities:
http://www.eclectablog.com/2016/05/appeals-court-ruling-brings-an-end-to-big-box-stores-ripping-off-local-communities-tax-dollars.html

Charlotte Observer:
In Charlotte, Foreign Workers
Replace Americans In Tech Roles:
http://www.charlotteobserver.com/news/business/article81676692.html

Professor Norm Matloff's H-1-B Web Page:
http://heather.cs.ucdavis.edu/h1b.html

Screaming Blue Messiahs:
Smash The Market Place:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ng5j1l622Go

Greetings From (A Town Called Malice)

Better stop dreaming of the quiet life

'Cause it's the one we'll never know

And quit running for that runaway bus

'Cause those rosy days are few

And stop apologizing for the things you've never done

'Cause time is short and life is cruel but it's up to us to change

This town called Malice
--The Jam, "A Town Called Malice"

<i.>

Released in February 1982, "A Town Called Malice" ranks among the more durable 45s released during the Jam's so-called "soul mining" period (mind you, anybody with ears would have heard those influences from the start, but that's a discussion for another time). The song shot straight to #1 UK -- holding the top spot for three weeks -- and marked the Jam's sole US chart entry, too (#31 on Billboard's Modern Rock Tracks). "Malice" also won New Musical Express's "Best Single" award that year, as well.

The song has retained a strong foothold in pop culture, turning up in movies like National Lampoon's European Vacation (1985), Billy Elliot (2000), and The Matador (2005). You can also hear it showcased in TV shows like the sci-fi cop drama, Ashes To Ashes (episode 3.5), and the BBC cop drama, Criminal Justice (first and last episodes) -- plus the "Rock Band" video game.

All in all, not a bad return for a song that the Jam's frontman, Paul Weller, cited as a snapshot of his experiences as a teenager in Woking, and a play on Nevil Shute's 1950 novel, A Town Like Alice (though he claimed not to have read the book) -- which recounts a woman's struggles to bring prosperity to a isolated Australian outback town (using her inheritance as the springboard for its development). The novel, in turn, has been adapted for a six-part mini-series (1981) and radio drama (1997).

<ii.>

Rows and rows of disused milk floats

Stand dying in the dairy yard

And a hundred lonely housewives clutch empty milk

Bottles to their hearts

Hanging out their old love letters on the line to dry

It's enough to make you stop believing when tears come fast and furious

In a town called Malice, yeah

For my money, "A Town Called Malice" stands among the savviest statements of the Jam's later career. Built around an uptempo, fingerpoppin' guitar and organ groove, the song carries an irresistible melody that dares not to clap along -- until you stop and hear what it's actually about. It's an old songwriter's trick that works quite well, as this writer can attest.

However, it's also remiss to consign "Malice" to the that-was-then bin -- by writing it off as "the sound of the precints," or some such nonsense (as I recall one reviewer doing). Today's world bears an eerie resemblance to the one that Ronald Reagan, Margaret Thatcher and their free market acolytes drooled about -- corporate power left to wreak unrelenting havoc, thanks to a perfect storm of shredded safety nets, gutted unions and a working world that looks like a 19th century robber baron's wet dream of a permanently insecure underclass (ithe 99%).

More relevantly, "Malice" talks about the forced austerity that keeps people forever powerless and marginalized, simply becuase they don't have enough money to make everything right. For the Squawker and myself, the last six months have served up snapshots that feel all too familiar: pay this medical bill now, or buy a couple more packages of chicken? Put off the radiator hose another week, or pay the phone bill in full now, so they're not dogging us later? And so on, and so forth....wash, rinse, repeat.

Many people around the world are struggling with these issues -- as in Greece, where media coverage of the recent rioting there focused mostly on corruption and a social system that allows people to retire at 45. What went largely unmentioned, however, was that even the International Monetary Fund questioned the bailout loan terms as overly burdensome. If an agency like the IMF -- which is in no way a radical entity -- has problems with the arrangement, someone should listen, right?

No such luck, of course. And that's why the next Grecian riots are only a question of time, since the people know the austerity they're being forced to accept is one that will come solely off their back. For the people on top, the endless blur of country villas, imported foods and never-ending limo rides will roll on uninterrupted. For them, austerity isn't likely to enter the conversational equation any time soon. If ever.

Struggle after struggle, year after year

The atmosphere's a fine blend of ice I'm almost stone cold dead

In a town called Malice, ooh yeah

A whole street's belief in Sunday's roast beef
Gets dashed against the cop
To either cut down on beer or the kids' new year,
It's a big decision in a town called Malice, ooh yeah

Ooh, the ghost of a steam train echoes down my track

It's at the moment bound for nowhere just going round and round

<iii.>

Even then, no matter how carefully you plan, it often feels like some malevolent force is rolling the bones against you dream. The Squawker and I got that impression when an ice storm left roughly one-eighth of our county (31,000 customers, give or take) without electricity this week. Monday ticked by in a blur of "what the f#ck" decision-making: tough it out,, 'cause we don't wanna spend half our latest emergency stash ($100) on a motel? Or get a room now, where there's at least some warmth (and a bit of electrical current)?

So we  spent the night shivering under a heap of blankets, even as our apartment complex quickly took on the aura of a ghost town, once most of our neighbors reckoned the lights weren't coming back up too soon. Eventually, we gave up on sleep altogether, and drove around town....first, dining out at McDonalds, then cooling our heels in the hospital ER till 1 a.m.-ish, hoping that things might work out.

We returned to a still-dark, still-freezing complex -- which we braved a few hours more, till 7 a.m. -- and finally agreed that a warm motel room beat the hell out of whatever we were enduring now. I called a friend, who agreed to fund a second night, if needed. As it turned out, the power came back up at 9:20 p.m. Tuesday, just as I was gathering more pillows and blankets for the Squawker...who was (finally) getting to sleep off the ill effects of the previous night.

Just then, the kitchen lights kicked back on, and the TV revved up for another mindless volley of infomercials, past-their-prime sitcoms, and God knows what else. We ended up finishing out the night, and dragging ourselves back home Wednesday morning. Between food and lodging, we spent roughly $150 that we didn't really have, which meant I'd come up short on two bills -- the car registration, and the phone -- whose deadlines loomed only a week away.

So i called a relation who was willing to lend a hand this time, which meant that I could pay the basic monthly bills (electricity, Insurance, Internet) without a hitch. This is the struggle that plays out daily in every Town Called Malice, without pause, without missing a beat -- and will continue to roll on, for the short run, until some previously unseen social force or collective expression of popular will finally changes the tide.

For now, at least, we're finally grateful to have gotten a few days of peace and quiet. So goes life in this Town Called Malice. --The Reckoner

Playground kids and creaking swings

Lost laughter in the breeze
I could go on for hours and I probably will
But I'd sooner put some joy back in this town called Malice, yeah ooh

In this town called Malice, ooh yeah

The Message

 

The Message

By Grandmaster Flash
& the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash

It's like a jungle sometimes

It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under

Broken glass everywhere

People pissin' on the stairs, you know they just don't care

I can't take the smell, can't take the noise

Got no money to move out, I guess I got no choice

Rats in the front room, roaches in the back

Junkies in the alley with a baseball bat

I tried to get away but I couldn't get far

Cause a man with a tow truck repossessed my car

[Chorus]

Don't push me cause I'm close to the edge

I'm trying not to lose my head

It's like a jungle sometimes

It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under

Standin' on the front stoop hangin' out the window

Watchin' all the cars go by, roarin' as the breezes blow

Crazy lady, livin' in a bag

Eatin' outta garbage pails, used to be a fag hag

Said she'll dance the tango, skip the light fandango

A Zircon princess seemed to lost her senses

Down at the peep show watchin' all the creeps

So she can tell her stories to the girls back home

She went to the city and got so so seditty

She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own

[Chorus]

It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under

My brother's doin' bad, stole my mother's TV

Says she watches too much, it's just not healthy

All My Children in the daytime, Dallas at night

Can't even see the game or the Sugar Ray fight

The bill collectors, they ring my phone

And scare my wife when I'm not home

Got a bum education, double-digit inflation

Can't take the train to the job, there's a strike at the station

Neon King Kong standin' on my back

Can't stop to turn around, broke my sacroiliac

A mid-range migraine, cancered membrane

Sometimes I think I'm goin' insane

I swear I might hijack a plane!

[Chorus]

It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under

My son said, Daddy, I don't wanna go to school

Cause the teacher's a jerk, he must think I'm a fool

And all the kids smoke reefer, I think it'd be cheaper

If I just got a job, learned to be a street sweeper

Or dance to the beat, shuffle my feet

Wear a shirt and tie and run with the creeps

Cause it's all about money, ain't a damn thing funny

You got to have a con in this land of milk and honey

They pushed that girl in front of the train

Took her to the doctor, sewed her arm on again

Stabbed that man right in his heart

Gave him a transplant for a brand new start

I can't walk through the park cause it's crazy after dark

Keep my hand on my gun cause they got me on the run

I feel like a outlaw, broke my last glass jaw

Hear them say "You want some more?"

Livin' on a see-saw

[Chorus]

It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under

A child is born with no state of mind

Blind to the ways of mankind

God is smilin' on you but he's frownin' too

Because only God knows what you'll go through

You'll grow in the ghetto livin' second-rate

And your eyes will sing a song called deep hate

The places you play and where you stay

Looks like one great big alleyway

You'll admire all the number-book takers

Thugs, pimps and pushers and the big money-makers

Drivin' big cars, spendin' twenties and tens

And you'll wanna grow up to be just like them, huh

Smugglers, scramblers, burglars, gamblers

Pickpocket peddlers, even panhandlers

You say I'm cool, huh, I'm no fool

But then you wind up droppin' outta high school

Now you're unemployed, all non-void

Walkin' round like you're Pretty Boy Floyd

Turned stick-up kid, but look what you done did

Got sent up for a eight-year bid

Now your manhood is took and you're a Maytag

Spend the next two years as a undercover fag

Bein' used and abused to serve like hell

Til one day, you was found hung dead in the cell

It was plain to see that your life was lost

You was cold and your body swung back and forth

But now your eyes sing the sad, sad song

Of how you lived so fast and died so young... so

[Chorus]

It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under...

--The Squawker

A Rising Tide Swamps All Ships: Michigan Kills The Earned Income Tax Credit

Trickle down economics is a scam, plain and sample. Like so many pet projects pushed by the ultra-right and its shadowy denizens -- the American Legislative Exchange Council (ALEC), the Mackinac Center for Public Policy, and other Orwellian-sounding entities like them -- the premise never adds up. Over and over, we're told that if the upper classes were left to stash away as much as they wish, that money will float back down to those on the bottom...which is where you hear those same tired slogans, over and over. A rising tide lifts all boats. Not a hand out, but a hand up. And so on, and so forth.  Wash, rinse, repeat.

For the most part, the jobs never materialize, and those that do are typically of the low-wage, no-benefit, no-future variety. The tax breaks handed out left and right to businesses wind up as great going-away presents -- either when the management takes the enterprise offshore, or simply goes belly up, leaving the taxpayers stuck with the what-do-we-with-that-big-empty-white-elephant-now tab. And so on, and so forth. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Then again, it's not really about results, it's about shoving an ideology down everybody else's throat -- common sense be damned, objective review be damned, public opinion be damned. What else explains the Republican drive in Michigan to kill off the Earned Income Tax Credit (EITC) -- and justify it as part of a road funding package?  That's what happened earlier this month, when the Republican-led Senate put the icing -- or, should I say, the mayonnaise -- on top of the cake. And so on, and so forth. Wash, rinse, repeat.

The Senate version also includes a 15-cent increase in the gas tax, another regressive tax that those with modest means don't get to vote on -- and, in a commuter state where driving extended distances to work is the norm, will hit their pockets hard, too. Not to worry, though, because the Senate version includes a state income tax -- although only if the percentage increase from the previous fiscal year's general fund revenues exceeds a positive inflation rate. This "shift and shaft" approach is the hallmark of the Snyder era: "Businesses pay less, you pay more." And so on, and so forth. Wash, rinse repeat.

As the Detroit Free Press noted in its editorial (see below), one interesting aspect of the drive against the EITC is that its prime movers -- such as State Representative Jeff Farrington, for instance, of Macomb County, where 17.9 percent of its children still live in poverty. You can ead the nitty-gritty details for yourself below -- instead of me rehashing them here -- but, as the Free Press rightly suggests, whatever logic motivates these votes, "it's not concern for the constituents whose interests they're meant to represent. It's the noxious partisan principle that poverty is deserved, and that the impoverished require neither a hand up nor much compassion."  And so on, and so forth. Wash, rinse, repeat.

And, like most bills that Governor Rick Synder's zealous cohorts pass left and right, it's fair to say the average person isn't paying attention right now. The sticker shock will land next year with a hollow thud on the kitchen table, when folks realize that -- all of a sudden -- they'll owe  the state more than they're used to paying. In fairness, I'll note that Michigan's version of the EITC was much smaller than Uncle Sam's -- but, for people who are struggling, every little bit helps...until, of course, someone yanks the rug from under your feet. And so on, and so forth. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Don't think they'll return any money that you might accidentally leave on their table, either. At one time, The Squawker and I owed two years of state taxes, plus three years of federal -- until we were able to sign up for a voluntary tax preparer's help through the United Way, and learned (to our chagrin) that we could get a renter's credit to make Michigan's IOUs go away. It'll be interesting to see what happens next year, but you can bet on one other thing...with 40 percent of Michigan's residents still living in poverty, or stuck in jobs that don't cover basic needs, you won't hear a peep about this subject from the Republican zealots...or ALEC...or the Mackinac Center...or any of their shadowy ilk.

Like Erich Honecker in his twilight years, they'll shake their fists and chant, "Stay the course! Stay the course!" Only, instead of Honecker's fuzzy-minded brand of "consumer socialism" --one that required massive loans from the West to prop up his so-called German Democratic Republic -- we'll get served something far more insidious: socialism for Big Business. But, if you feel like calling them out, it might be fun to ask, "Where are the results?" Then wait for the sounds of crickets.  And so on, and so forth. Wash, rinse, repeat. --The Reckoner

Links To Go (Hurry, Before Your Tax Tab Skyrockets):
Detroit Free Press
Mich. Senate Road Plan May Be Worse Than You Think:
http://www.freep.com/story/opinion/editorials/2015/07/01/michigan-roads-plan/29543977/


MLive.com:
Michigan Can Improve The Economy
By Cutting Taxes For 95% For The People:
http://www.mlive.com/lansing-news/index.ssf/2015/05/graduated_income_tax_michigan.html

The Vanishing Male Worker

The Vanishing Male Worker

"Working, in America, is in decline. The share of prime-age men — those 25 to 54 years old — who are not working has more than tripled since the late 1960s, to 16 percent. More recently, since the turn of the century, the share of women without paying jobs has been rising, too. The United States, which had one of the highest employment rates among developed nations as recently as 2000, has fallen toward the bottom of the list.

"As the economy slowly recovers from the Great Recession, many of those men and women are eager to find work and willing to make large sacrifices to do so. Many others, however, are choosing not to work, according to a New York Times/CBS News/Kaiser Family Foundation poll that provides a detailed look at the lives of the 30 million Americans 25 to 54 who are without jobs.

"Many men, in particular, have decided that low-wage work will not improve their lives, in part because deep changes in American society have made it easier for them to live without working. These changes include the availability of federal disability benefits; the decline of marriage, which means fewer men provide for children; and the rise of the Internet, which has reduced the isolation of unemployment.

"At the same time, it has become harder for men to find higher-paying jobs. Foreign competition and technological advances have eliminated many of the jobs in which high school graduates like Mr. Walsh once could earn $40 an hour, or more. The poll found that 85 percent of prime-age men without jobs do not have bachelor’s degrees. And 34 percent said they had criminal records, making it hard to find any work.

"The resulting absence of millions of potential workers has serious consequences not just for the men and their families but for the nation as a whole. A smaller work force is likely to lead to a slower-growing economy, and will leave a smaller share of the population to cover the cost of government, even as a larger share seeks help.

“They’re not working, because it’s not paying them enough to work,” said Alan B. Krueger, a leading labor economist and a professor at Princeton. “And that means the economy is going to be smaller than it otherwise would be.”

Read this one carefully: it's the New York Times, the economy is NOT recovering from the Great Recession when most of your population is unemployed fools! You ever notice that constant discrepancy in our news? The elites who manage our news, see this as business as usual. The article is cloying in it's acceptance of this as the norm.

Notice the age of the men with no jobs, begins at age 54. 20 years ago, they were the 34 year old and below crowd being labeled as "slackers". They are Generation X and the millennials! That is the thing being ignored in this article.

Did the Baby Boomers not retire? One chart I saw accompanying this showed the over 55 and above crowd, as having good jobs unless they had retired already. How come Generation X hasn't been able to move into those jobs of people who were more numerous? It blows my mind. We are playing big time for the selfish Baby Boom generation who have 47 times more the wealth.

Look at that poor guy in the picture, he is probably living at home with his Mom! One sees this so often now, shamed 40 and 50 something people living at home with their parents.

The job system is failing when a man can't even get a job to support a family. This came for the ghettos first and now it is across the spectrum. Get in a time machine, what kind of country do you see when a man can't get a job. They don't marry, don't have children unless they are illegitimate, can't buy a house or build a community. When you have nothing but low wage work, your life is reduced down to survival, not building a future. The future will suck, and the blame for this will lay at the feet of the greedy who have destroyed livelihoods for millions--The Squawker

Cash Cows A Go Go: How Municipalities Milk The Poor

Cash Cow. 
Noun: A business venture that generates 
a steady return of profits that far exceed the
 outlay of cash required to acquire or start it.

Whatever emerges from the grand jury's probing of 18-year-old Michael Brown's fatal shooting in Ferguson, MO, one reality seems clear enough. The result is unlikely to satisfy residents demanding a legal day of reckoning for Darren Wilson, the police officer who shot Brown -- nor those on the other side who defend his actions. 

Resident Jimmie Matthews expressed his feelings succinctly enough for Yahoo News: "Whatever outcome they have, we're going to be protesting.  Either way, the issues are the same. We feel that we are not protected by anyone in the system."  Although recent protests have passed without incident, one suspects that Governor Jay Nixon's call-out of the National Guard won't exactly ease Mr. Matthews's mood.

One aspect of the tragedy has drawn little attention, however.  Like many municipalities nationwide, Ferguson has cranked up its power to levy -- and collect -- citations, fines and penalties make life hellish for the low-income residents stuck paying them. Faced with shrinking state and federal revenues, cities large and small nationwide have embraced stiffer fines to avoid budget shortfalls. Better yet, citizens don't get to vote in such matters (unlike a millage proposal, for example, that may not pass muster at the ballot box).

As NBC's analysis suggests, Ferguson's newfound fining and ticketing fever has played out with predictably skewed results. You can read the entire story in its entirety below, but some figures are worth noting in greater detail. 

In fiscal year 2013, for example, Ferguson filed 11,400 traffic cases. According to NBC, that's nearly the same number issued in Chesterfield, a largely white city that's also twice the size of Ferguson's 21,000 residents. What's more, Ferguson filed more non-ordinance cases (12,300) -- which includes non-traffic violations like trespassing, loitering, and so on -- than any other city in St. Louis County.

As a result, Ferguson expected to rake in more than $2.6 million in fines and public safety revenues for the 2013 fiscal year, or 40 percent more than it did in 2010, NBC's reports. It's a fitting outcome in a city whose residents are 67 percent black, yet whites make up 50 of its 53-member police force, and five of its six city council members (including the mayor). Do we need to hire a rocket scientist to show where such polarization leads? 

Given the weight of all these statistics, it's hardly surprising that Thomas Harvey, executive director of a law firm representing low-income clients, tells NBC: "It's not just Ferguson, it's this whole region. My clients say that the police officer and the judge and the prosecutor are not on their side, and they are just viewed as a source of revenue."

Of course, Ferguson is hardly unique in imposing such policies. Reason magazine reports that the city of Los Angeles is rolling out a citation enforcement program that imposes fines of $100 to $1,000 for various petty offenses -- ranging from harboring an unlicensed dog, for example, to tampering with refuse. Again, it doesn't take a nuclear physicist to see how the latter example will instantly criminalize a street person caught rummaging in a dumpster for pop cans and other pieces of scrap metal to convert into instant cash.

According to Reason, the initiative is expected to generate $2.5 million in annual revenues for the City of Angels, which pioneered a unique brand of "Gotcha!" enforcement in 2006 -- when it implemented "countdown" lights downtown to catch people jaywalking. If you can't cross the intersection before that light goes off, it's worth $197 for the city's coffers.

As the old saying holds..."it's nice work, if you can get it." Of course, the consequences get more drastic if you don't pay those fines immediately. Suddenly, you're looking at late fees and penalties that mushroom into arrest warrants for failure to pay them, jeopardizing your ability (economically speaking) to make those problems go away. 

What's worse, many of these statutes are framed in opaque language that officers interpret as they see fit...which breeds a culture of intimidation and harassment on the street. Left unchecked, this phenomenon erodes community support for the police department, whose officers respond by adopting a battle-ready "us against them" mentality... which only raises the odds of further tragedies waiting to happen.

Backers of this "broken windows" approach -- which holds that a well-ordered environment is necessary to preserve public safety -- brush aside concerns about its potential abuses by treating them as the rants of disgruntled street misfits: "Why worry when you haven't done anything wrong?" 

Real life rarely plays out so simply, however. I found myself reminded of this principle after watching a show on PBS this week that examined New York City's controversial "stop and frisk" policy at length. What sticks with me is the bitterness -- raw, searing and visceral -- of residents who'd found themselves on the receiving end of such policies, often with little or no warning. They scarcely felt protected, let alone served.

Where abuse of power becomes its own reward, the moral fallout is all too evident. You can only subject people so long to an endless, perverse quest of how much pain and suffering they can stand. Sooner or later, the unwilling subjects will push back, often in ways that the local power structure might not endorse. In this tragic tapestry, Ferguson is the only latest unhappy snapshot. --The Reckoner


Links To Go (Man, Don't Ever Get Yourself Busted For Jaywalking...) 
NBC News: Black St. Louis Suburbs Hit With Ticket Blitz:
http://www.nbcnews.com/storyline/michael-brown-shooting/black-st-louis-suburbs-hit-ticket-blitz-n185061

Reason Magazine: Los Angeles Can't Fix Its Sidewalks
But Wants To Fine Its Citizens For Not Keeping Them Clean:
http://reason.com/blog/2014/08/26/los-angeles-cant-fix-its-sidewalks-but-w

Reason Magazine: Petty Law Enforcement Vs. The Poor:
http://reason.com/archives/2014/01/08/petty-law-enforcement-vs-the-poor

The New York Times: Author Of "Broken Windows" Policing Defends His Theory:
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/11/nyregion/author-of-broken-windows-policing-defends-his-theory.html?_r=0