Hey, Elon, Are You Happy Now?

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

I worked at the Salvation Army and long volunteered at a food bank. I have half a Masters in Social Work (that's a funny story) and I grew up in DC. Here's what I know about what's happening now.

Whether long-rumored or appearing suddenly like a lump in the shower, the closure of the main factory in a company town results in monumental upheaval, dislocation and despair. For real human beings. It doesn’t matter if it's a Kansas manufacturer of hats and mittens or if it's the business of running the federal government in Washington, D.C. -- the wanton shuttering of a critical employer is the same.

Utter devastation.

In the latter case, I'm talking workers who helped keep planes in the air and answered phones in social security offices. They provided assistance to the disabled and oversaw food safety. They got pink slips. (Or, you know, mass emails announcing a half-hour grace period to clear out their desks.)

All because Elon Musk decreed it. This bizarrely fruitful, buffoonish billionaire (who in addition to ruthlessly destroying the lives of strangers is trying to supplant the vile Rulon Jeffs as a prodigious progenitor) sees himself as a Master of the Universe.

Soon the unemployed will vie for the still available income sources. The term over-qualified will be a joke. Paying bills any way possible will become the imperative. For sale signs will spread like measles in Texas. Euphemistically called a buyer's market, those lucky enough to sell their homes might still be underwater when they get out. Otherwise the banks will just take possession. Neglected basements will flood, little roof issues will cause collapse. Whole neighborhoods will become blighted.

Those who don't get their paychecks directly from 'the factory' will suffer too. Babysitters for the employees' kids, counter-help at the diner where the suits and uniforms grabbed lunch, salon stylists and housekeepers whose salaries came sideways from the big engine-- will suffer quickly, too.

Those fortunate enough to have a cushion to live off of will skate for a couple months. Others won’t. The median savings account in the U.S. holds $8,000.

Being poor is frighteningly, unbelievably hard. Crises follow financial hardships. It costs to have no money. Dominos fall, collateral fires erupt. Check out rent-to-own refrigerator rates and the outlandish prices at the laundromat (which you have to catch a bus to get to.) Or think of a young dad's inability to cover the cost of getting his car inspected which could eventually result in job loss and eviction. Inaccessible dental care is potentially deadly. Same, obviously for medical.

Little stressors will become intolerable. Mortgages won't be met. Marriages will fail. Repo-men will become familiar, emergency shelters overwhelmed. The metal shelves of food banks will reveal ancient rust stains because donations have dried up and they are bare.

Americans.

Will.

Go.

Hungry.

Health care costs will skyrocket. Hospitals will turn away those who can't pay. As in the past, ambulances will dump the indigent. Which, of course, isn't great in terms of public health in general. Communicable diseases affect everyone not just those without insurance. But that's one of those unintended (yet obvious) consequences. The outlay for preventative interventions exchanged for the quick buck upfront is, what's that expression?

Fucking stupid.

Figuring something is better that nothing, diabetics will begin micro-dosing insulin. Other prescriptions will be halved, then quartered, then skipped altogether. Chronic illnesses will come screaming back. Pets will be surrendered, dropped at shelters or tied to fences with wrenching pleas on the collars.

Expensive diapers will be stretched, changes less frequent. Painful rashes will cause inconsolable crying in home after home. Family stress will skyrocket.

We must organize. We must stop MAGA'S inhumanity.

Join a March on April 5th!