A Fable for the Fretful

Penned by a fellow who ate government cheese, tasted powdered milk, and lived to tell the tale while still believing in hard truths.

Now, let me start by telling you somethin’ true, which is rarer these days than hen’s teeth and less welcome at a cocktail party than a skunk in a silk hat. I was raised on government cheese so stiff it could double as a doorstop and powdered milk that looked like chalk dust and tasted like a mistake—but we drank it because we were thankful and hungry.

Back then, a man knew what public assistance was for–keepin’ a soul alive long enough to find a shovel or a job. But oh, how times have changed.

I took a trip to a 7-Eleven with some young’uns whose thirst for Slurpees is matched only by their talent for makin’ a mess. And there, right on the machine in bold letters, was a little sticker announcing to the world that “All Slurpee cups are EBT eligible.”

I nearly dropped my Big Gulp in shock.

Turns out, Uncle Sam is now buyin’ sugary dye-water for folks with food stamps. The same government that won’t let a school child eat a peanut butter sandwich without filling out three forms is shellin’ out for grape-flavored corn syrup masqueradin’ as refreshment.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I got no quarrel with helpin’ those that’s hungry.

Lord knows I’ve stood in that line and thanked the Lord someone had stocked the shelf. But when I see taxpayer dollars goin’ to Slurpees and soda fountains, I start thinkin’ maybe the safety net’s become a hammock.

And I reckon I ain’t the only one.

You’d think a suggestion like “Maybe food stamps shouldn’t buy junk food” would be met with a nod and a little common sense. But no, the moment a Republican raises the idea, Democrats come runnin’ like prairie dogs from a jackal, shriekin’ about starvation, cruelty, and—of course—fascism.

Take Congresswoman Yvette Clarke, bless her excitable heart. She said Republican proposals are “the difference between life and death.”

Now, I don’t want to downplay anyone’s hardship, but if not buyin’ a Slurpee means you perish, you might need more than a food program—you might need a doctor. Or a mirror.

Then there’s Hakeem Jeffries thunderin’ about Medicaid cuts like Paul Revere warnin’ of a British invasion. And Nancy Pelosi, well, she’s said dismantlin’ the Department of Education is a “direct attack” on students.

That’d be quite the feat, considerin’ most students couldn’t find the Department of Education on a map even if colored in bright red and labeled “useless bureaucracy.”

Let’s talk plain–when Republicans try to clean up waste, they’re called heartless. When they try to make programs work better, they get accused of murder. And when they question whether a government agency is doin’ any good at all, the left acts like someone’s torchin’ the Library of Alexandria.

But stop and ask–what has the Department of Education accomplished? Test scores are flatter than a pancake on a plow blade, and public schools are focused more on feelings than phonics. The department’s been around since 1979, and most kids still can’t tell you who won the Civil War—or worse, think it’s still goin’.

And don’t get me started on Medicaid. If you tried to build a health system that cost more and helped fewer people, you’d have trouble beatin’ what we got now.

Now, I know what some of y’all are thinkin’ this is just partisan grousin’. Maybe.

But I’ve got a little challenge for you. Pull out your fancy calendar app.

Go ahead—I’ll wait.

Make an appointment with yourself. In the notes section, jot this down– “Republicans cut SNAP, and 100,000 people died. Trump ended Medicaid, and people keeled over in parking lots. The Department of Education was gutted, and now we’re all too dumb to spell our name.”

A year from now, look around and see if any of that came true—or if the sky stayed where it’s always been. If the sky did fall, I’d eat my hat. But if America’s still standin’—if folks are still eatin’, learnin’, and livin’—maybe the Chicken Littles were wrong.

See, the trouble with fearmongerin’ is that it’s like cayenne pepper. Use it too much, and people stop tastin’ the stew.

Right now, the stew’s boilin’ with shrieks about Trump bringin’ about the apocalypse every Tuesday. But I lived through disco and generic beer, and I can tell you–we’ll survive.

So, if you hear tell that Trump’s tryin’ to starve the children, poison the sick, and outlaw arithmetic, maybe take a breath. And remember, sometimes the loudest cries come from the smallest of cuts.