JOSHRUFFIN
Binging and Purging Legitimizing and debunking class warfare
V. 22 | NO. 63
the widening chasm between the wealthiest 1 percent and the rest of us (the average Japanese CEO makes between 10-14 times as much as the average laborer; the average American CEO makes about 475 times as much) has been ongoing for some time now, fed continuously by government bailouts for national banks, Wall Street/Washington alliances, and outright cronyism. It is the reason that Occupy protests
are currently in full swing in more than 90 cities and 80 countries. In a nutshell, economic inequality has finally bred a noticeable level of social unrest, though citizens worldwide have been living and dealing with the consequences for decades. Right-wingers, on the other hand, invoke the imaginary war only when their bottom line is endangered. Case in point: in a September 19 speech, President Obama summed up his proposal — predicated on increasing tax rates for corporations and the wealthiest 1 percent — by saying “It’s not class warfare, it’s math.” Republicans predictably cried foul, positing that the plan would in effect “tax success,” which is so far away from the actual truth that, once Bill O’Reilly said it, rhetoricians across the country lost control of their bowels. Rich people, meet me down in the next paragraph. Hi. I’m one of the 99 percent. I have degrees in philosophy/literary theory and creative writing, and I’m so far below the poverty line that the tooth fairy will still be leaving food stamps
RUFFIN’IT
This past Thursday, I sat by the floor-to-ceiling front windows of Blackbird Coffee, conducting one-onone conferences with my freshman composition students regarding their final research papers. I was just finishing up my everything bagel when my 10:50, Jenny, walked in and sat down. She has an aloof, intelligent demeanor, stringy brown hair and is punk-rock pretty, with a beauty mark piercing on her right upper cheek. She unraveled her scarf and took the lid off her tea, a whirl of peppermint steam gushing from the cup. I asked her what she wants to write about, what she’s passionate about. Jenny told me wants to work with women’s rights groups when she graduates in three and half years and that, while researching an article we read for class called “A Secret Society of the Starving” (Udovitch), which explores the development of online pro-anorexia communities, she happened upon some data on a sort of ongoing ideological war between the pro-anorexia and pro-bulimia crowds. It’s a prime opportunity to dissect a heretofore under-researched aspect of the ballooning pro-eating-disorder phenomenon, and I encouraged her, trying to appear as professorial as possible with a hole in my jeans, to pursue it. She would come back the next day, her mind changed, saying that she couldn’t find enough peer-evaluated research to wring 10 pages out of it. That’s probably bulls**t, but never mind. Jenny was interested in the topic’s darkly humorous irony, but what has stayed with me these past few days is not only that, but how even that level of absurdity cannot succeed in surpassing certain inherent contradictions in the very real class war being fought less quietly by the day in this country. Because, let’s be clear: There is a difference between the one that’s actually happening and the one that exists only in the minds of rightwing ideologues and their Borg-like collective. Interestingly enough, however, the two are irrevocably intertwined. The real one — involving
under my pillow when I have dentures. Look, we’re not going to storm your estates and condos, pillage the entirety of your possessions and run trains on your trophy wives. I promise. We didn’t declare war on you; all we’re doing is asking questions, only now we’re doing it in the streets, the town halls, the banquet rooms, and we’re doing it loudly. And though we may be doing it at your front door, I promise we’re not going to kick the thing in. When you decided, however, that capitalism was an end instead of a means to an end, you made s**t real. Herman Cain recently said of the situation, “If you’re not rich, blame yourself.” Herman Cain is a tool, and not even a useful one; he’s, like, a grommet press or something. Some of us don’t necessarily want to be rich, you leathery bag of pepperoni farts, but everyone wants to at least achieve self-sufficiency, with maybe a little bit left over for beer and black metal, and damn it, I’m trying. And though my girlfriend and I have been saddled with some costly, unforeseen medical bills, we’ve been fortunate enough to pull through thanks to a combination of health insurance and generous, loving family members. Others — like a close friend’s coal miner father who developed black lung, can’t work and can’t afford privatized health insurance — aren’t so lucky. Richies, we’re not here to make your lives difficult because we’re bored, lazy or driven by some misplaced sense of entitlement. We’re here because you refuse to help, because you categorically deny the part you played in creating this mess in the first place. We’re here because the war effort you crow is as ideologically contrived as the one between the pro-anorexia and pro-bulimia crowds. The 99 percent are wasting away through little to no fault of our own. You, however, continue to binge, to willfully purge.
ASU and Metro Spirit alum Josh Ruffin is a published journalist and poet, who just received his MFA from Georgia College & State University. He was once the most un-intimidating bouncer at Soul Bar.
METRO SPIRIT 11.10.11 15