I hated the rich way before you did
My family line has been hating on the rich since forever-ago. When they were Yiddish peasants in Eastern Europe. When they were living in flooded Chicago tenements during the First Depression. When they subscribed to socialist newspapers in the 60s and wore “DUMP REAGAN” buttons in the 80s. Class-rage is in my blood, along with the recessive alleles responsible for Tay-Sachs disease.
This seething contempt for the top 1% is not new to me, but it’s nice that others in the bottom 99% are finally catching up. Finally! Although how any clinging-to-the-middle-class person could just wake up and “discover” gross economic inequality once BofA started fucking with their debit cards is a bit strange. I mean, you don’t have to watch Roger and Me or be the daughter of a fuming Marxist to see which way the wind is blowing.
Or maybe you do? I don’t feel any overwhelming sense of betrayal right now, because I was not raised to believe in a fair, just, boot-strappy society in the first place. My parents hate the rich like other people’s parents hate immigrants and rival football teams. What is it like, to only now become outraged?
