I found this via Financial Armageddon.
I had a master's degree. I had a job. But to feed my three children, I had to swallow my pride and go to a soup kitchen. I could segue into some political rant here, a slick dismissal of the Bush administration, perhaps, or a paragraph declaring my support for Barack Obama. But the moment I walked into the soup kitchen -- the moment I acknowledged, publicly, that I could not provide food for myself or my children (which is why the soup kitchen is so much more difficult than the food bank) -- is the moment that my ability to believe in the politics of this country was forever altered. I know why poor people have historically low voter-turnout rates. If you vote, you acknowledge that you believe in the system. And to believe in the system when you're at the very bottom, when you've watched the chrome and ink-black SUVs drive by while you're packing your own beater with dried beans and lentils, to believe at that point is fucking painful. [Heather Ryan, "Our Cupboard Was Bare"]More and more people I know are being affected by the hidden inflation tax and are having trouble surviving in this strange economic environment. People I know, who in the past were down on their luck, couldn't give a damn about the President or any political races. Their primary worry was where to get food, shelter, and clothing first. Somewhere we've lost the American Dream for the masses and replaced it with the American Dream for the Political and Financial elite. Did I hear Benny say, "let them eat cake?"