They work hard for the money

The struggle is real for white men who inherit

“When Summer went to the ladies’ room at the upscale Chasen’s Bistro in LA, she startled the washroom attendant, Onetta Johnson, who apologized for having dozed off and explained she was exhausted from working two jobs. After thinking, “she works hard for the money”, Summer returned to her table and wrote down that thought and the woman’s name – and a hit was born.” Source

Want to know how to make the sexist racist maga men so sputtering angry that they won’t have time to go to their jobs at ICE or wherever they trample over people’s rights?

Suggest that a white man has power simply because he inherited or married money.


Bill Archer died. He was a Congressman from Texas who seemed to think that the purpose of government was not for us to pool our money to provide the services that enhance our community (that the private sector cannot or will not provide) but to make rich people richer.

Bill Archer, a Texas Republican who in three decades in the House of Representatives became a savvy veteran of budget fights and one of the most passionate and powerful anti-tax crusaders in Washington

New York Times

He wasn’t rich, he said.

He was frugal.

Mr. Archer told The New York Times in 1995 that he did not consider himself rich. “No, not really, I don’t,” he said. “I think of myself as someone who has been frugal and saved and tried to provide for his own security and someone who bore the responsibility of putting five kids through college.”

Ibid

My friends. My father never made more than $30K a year. My parents gave me about $500 a semester for college – all that they could afford – and I used that money for books. I buy my jeans at Goodwill and we have two cars – one is 26 years old and the other is a new ten years old. Mr T does most of the repairs.

We are frugal.

Archer may have been frugal, but he was also born to money.

Did he mention that? Did he mention that he worked at the family business? And not just worked there, but started out as the president of the company?

His father prospered in the livestock feed business….Mr. Archer was the president of Uncle Johnny Mills, the family feed business in Houston, from 1953 to 1961.

Ibid

I can’t find a lot of information about Uncle Johnny Mills, but I did stumble across this gem about Archer’s father:

“The Right to Achieve,” according to google, was “the keynote speech delivered by William R. Archer (President of Uncle Johnny Mills) at the Houston Community Conference held on November 22, 1948. The conference focused on regional economic growth and the preservation of free enterprise.”

I think we can all safely assume that Bill Archer was a nepo baby born to a man who was convinced – in 1940s, post-war Texas, that “free enterprise,” AKA “Black people, Hispanics, and women have no power” was the key to everything and that his own hard work and determination were why he succeeded.


When I posted about Archer in my college alumni group, writing that Archer had a connection to our college and BTW, that he had followed the traditional path to wealth and power for men, which is to inherit money or to sleep their way to the top, you would have thought I was stomping kittens to death.

The reliable maga idiots howled with outrage that how dare I speak ill of the dead and that working hard is another path to wealth and power.

Of course their underlying, unspoken assumption is that all of their success as white men in this world is strictly due to their own efforts and if other people aren’t as successful as they are, it’s their own fault.

I got tired of the drama very quickly and deleted my post. I then wrote that I had deleted my post, not because I thought the man in question deserved respect – that he did not deserve it because his policies were harmful and destructive, but because I didn’t want the admins to have to deal with incivil responses.

They piled onto that post. I didn’t read the comments – I ignored them, but a friend in the group told me that the magas were still pissed off and commenting.

Lord Have Mercy. Little snowflakes really don’t like hearing that maybe they are not so fabulous after all.

The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers

(Not really – this phrase so often misunderstood)

The 2026 G7 Summit. Clearly the biggest problem is the lack of lawyers. Source

I am volunteering – knocking on doors, mostly – for a local candidate, Susan. She announced a year ago, when my current state representative, Alice, announced that she would be running for the state senate, leaving a vacancy in the state house of representatives.

Alice has done an amazing job, proposing and getting passed, despite being in the Democratic minority, legislation that directly benefits women. Legislation of the type that men have had decades to propose and pass but did not.

Susan has not held office before, but has been and is currently a community volunteer, accomplishing things that again, benefit women and children. She has helped other local candidates in their races, knocking on doors and doing the tedious, boring, hard things that are necessary to get people elected to city council and school board.

In February, this new guy – Chad – entered the race.

Chad has not been involved in local politics.

He has not served as a community volunteer.

He has not helped other people on their campaigns.

He just decided that he needed to run for office. I’m not sure what problems are making him angry enough that he feels compelled to solve them. Alice ran initially because she was furious about the human trafficking she would see when she was photographing wedding receptions at hotels. Susan owns a small business and is a mom and is frustrated at the lack of government support for working parents.

Chad, in an interview when he was in high school or college – a few years ago – said that he wanted a career in politics.

Alice and Susan already have careers. Politics was never their goal.


There was a forum for Susan and Chad.

Chad said people should vote for him because lawyers are under-represented in state government.

I’m gonna let you sit with that for a moment.

Lawyers. Are. Underrepresented.

YOU KNOW WHO ELSE IS UNDERREPRESENTED, CHAD?

YOU KNOW WHO ELSE?

FFS.


I hate knocking on doors and I especially hate having to do so in the summer when I have so many other things I want to do, but I will not let Chad win.

People tell me things

MEN tell me things

It seems that every time I am out working in the garden in my front yard, someone wants to talk to me. It’s nice that my neighbors know me and want to chat, but a few of them are real Talkers if you know what I mean (I mean older men who live alone) and sometimes, I would like to pull weeds or whatever after we have greeted each other. That is, I am not necessarily interested in a 15-minute conversation.

It also seems that when I am canvassing for my candidates, I find the lonely men who are desperate for a listening ear. That is a tricky situation, as I need to keep the focus on my candidate without alienating the voter. How do I steer a conversation

  • FROM the Packers or quitting smoking and drinking or a misspent youth that all changed when his son was born
  • TO my candidate?

I have not figured out how to do so easily or quickly, so I end up listening to long stories and thinking about how I need to pee and how I still have 20 doors to knock before I finish and go home.

On the one hand, I do feel bad for these lonely men. They are stuck in this system, too, where they do not feel like they can talk about intimate issues – having to move because of health issues, trying to stop drinking to be a better father – with their male friends.

On the other hand, I am not a therapist. I am not even a close friend. In many of these cases, I would say that I am a cordial stranger.

And on the other other hand, these are rarely conversations.


(Sometimes they are conversations. The college freshman who lives up the street stopped yesterday when I was out and he was delightful. We talked about books and native plants and it was an exchange where both of us talked and both of us listened.)


Usually, they are monologues.

Usually, they are sustained monologues.

They are monologues coming from places of pain and fear and isolation and loneliness, but – they are monologues.

And there is only so much I can hear.

So last night,

  • after an afternoon of neighbors talking to me while I worked in the yard (or rather, while I stopped what I was doing because I could not listen and pull weeds at the same time because I have to look things up to make sure they are weeds),
  • after listening to voters go way off topic – I am delighted to talk about politics while I am doing political stuff – while I was canvassing,
  • I was done. I had listened all I could listen in one day.

So when I was in line for an author event at the library, when the older man in line behind me started talking to – I don’t know who – when he just started asking questions to the air, I shut my ears.

I was on my phone, reading the paper.

I was not making eye contact with anyone.

I was not seeking conversation.

And yet.

I heard the man speak. “Why is this taking so long?”

I ignored him. I knew he wasn’t talking to me, because I wasn’t even looking at him and we had not acknowledged each other’s presence in any way. All he could see was the back of my head.

He asked again.

I finally said, without looking up from my phone, without turning around to look at him, “I don’t know.”

(I actually did know – they check attendee names against the reservation list and ask for your zip code and even though there are two people doing the work, it still takes some time, but I didn’t feel like I needed to explain anything to a stranger.)

The woman in front of me said something, too, and he answered her immediately.

“I used to come here every Saturday morning when I was a kid,” he said.

She said something back which I didn’t catch because I was reading the news.

He said something to her.

I looked up and asked, “Are you two together? I don’t want to be blocking your conversation, so I am happy to move back.”

“No!” he said. “Why would you think that?”

“OK,” I said, and returned to my phone.

He started talking again.

She answered his questions, even though I got the sense that she, also, was not that interested. But she was maybe 15 years older than I am, so perhaps a little more steeped in deferring to men? I don’t know.

They continued to talk.

I could tell he was lonely. I thought, “He’s doing the things you’re supposed to do when you are lonely – to try to engage with people.”

But – and this is just occurring to me right now – he wasn’t quite getting it right.

He was talking about himself and expecting someone to listen.

What he could have said was something like, “Wow I wonder why this is taking so long? But it will be worth it. I love (major author). What’s your favorite book of hers?”

But even then – don’t you wait until you have made eye contact with someone to start a conversation? Aren’t there rules for starting conversations in line? Who just talks to the back of the head of the person in front of him?

I am conflicted because I still feel guilty for ignoring him, but then I am annoyed that all I wanted to do was read the story about how they are burying the Minab report and I should have been allowed to exist in quiet peace in line.

What do you think? Should I have engaged with him? What are the rules on this?