Okay, so, I don't really like to talk politics on this blog because I have my issues with all involved on the subject and it would just get really depressing over here. But after seeing this quote from Gingrich last week...
“Those who, you know, live in high-rise apartment buildings writing for fancy newspapers in the middle of town after they ride the metro, who don’t understand that for most Americans the ability to buy a home, to have their own property, to have a sense of belonging is one of the greatest achievements of their life, and it makes them feel like they are good solid citizens."
...followed by reports today that he reiterated the whole "elitists ride the subway" spiel to a crowd in Vegas, well, I think I have to comment on the subject.
First off, before I even get started on the subway part, let me fully disclose that I work in the media. It's not a "fancy newspaper" and it does not pay very well. At all. Hence why I live in an older-than-dirt walkup in Jersey City. My friends who have worked at newspapers? Generally make less than I do. They're forced to take furloughs so their places of employment can stay afloat. And, lest anyone forget, newspapers are in trouble across the board, so I HIGHLY doubt employees outside of the really, really high-up positions, be it "fancy" or "not fancy" paper, is making quite enough money to be considered "elite." Or whatever the buzzword is these days.
Now, for the subway. Being the living-paycheck-to-paycheck person I am, I cannot afford a car service. I don't indulge in taxis very often. I can't justify the $6.50 one-way ticket on the ferry more than a few times a year. So I take the PATH, which is the NJ equivalent of the subway, into Manhattan, where I catch the carriages of wealth known as the 1,2,3 or R train to my place of employment, all for $2.50 per ride. On the trains, well, it's mostly budget-minded tourists from all over Europe and...oh, hey, middle Americans! The exact contingent he thinks he's pandering to with these comments...riding down to see the World Trade Center site, Wall Street or the Statue of Liberty. But aside from them? It's me, the other people who can't afford to take taxis to work, the crazy people, the homeless people, the crazy homeless people, and if you're lucky, the kids selling candy at jacked-up prices for their "basketball team." (And sometimes, awesomely, the hustling 12-year-olds dancing to Michael Jackson for money, who are by far my favorite subway act of the moment. But I digress). And if I catch it at the right time? Well, picture all these tourists and NYC natives smashed together, body to body, in a symphony known as Rush Hour, or This Model of Elitism Breaks Down All the Time and Therefore May Be Delayed and Thus Overcrowded.
And lest THAT not prove my point, let me tell you about my ride the other day, on a non-crowded train, when I took a seat in an empty row and, as I waited the five minutes or so before the train actually moved, noticed the smell of urine. And realized that these seats were probably some homeless person's bed last night and left their scent behind. Or some guy passed out after drinking with his co-workers and soiled himself. Or some kid wasn't exactly toilet trained yet. And then I had to worry if my coat was now going to smell like piss. The lap of luxury, I tell you.
ALSO. AHEM. I would LOVE to own my own home, but I CAN'T AFFORD TO. What's that? I live outside Manhattan? I work in the media? I ride the subway to work? In blanket statement world I SHOULD be able to afford a home? Well, then, talk to most of my friends who also work in media and would never, ever in a million trillion years be able to afford a down payment because they're too busy trying to make ends meet. You don't have to be from Nebraska or Alabama or Whoever We're Pandering To Now, USA, to feel completely terrible sometimes to know you probably won't get to experience "one of the greatest achievements" of your life. And that f***ing sucks.
So, Newt, you can say what you want about the other candidates, but when you make a comment so ridiculously out of touch about myself and many other people I know, be they high-rise dwelling or basement-apartment renting or living again with Mom and Dad because their newspaper laid off half its staff, well, you're never getting my vote. Oh, hell no.
