I heard on the radio that San Francisco raised its minimum wage to $15 and that raise was crowed about ad absurdum… as if the great liberal yahoos had done something special.
Most people are gullible enough to think something impressive happened as well. For those, let’s throw some math at this situation.
The median cost of a home in San Francisco is $1,364,000 and some change. That works out to about $8,500 a month for a mortgage… if you put the ten percent down, or $136,400. Figure a couple, both working minimum wage jobs own that median home. That’s 71 hours a week, just for the mortgage, each. No food, no electricity, no car, nothing but the mortgage. 71 hours a week for two working people. Now here’s the fun part: No minimum wage employer will pay the overtime for an employee to work 71 hours a week to cover that mortgage… That couple will have to work two minimum wage jobs. Each.
Now let’s look at my hometown. The minimum wage is $9.25 and the median home costs $134,000. Throw the same math at that… 12 hours a week for both in the couple, working minimum wage jobs.
For San Francisco to be as fair as it is in my hometown, the minimum wage would have to be about $100 an hour.
Now, my math is very rudimentary. I don’t factor in taxes (triple in San Francisco what I pay in my hometown). In other words, the situation is even worse than my simplistic look at it.
Just sayin’, folks. Don’t fall for the narrative. Challenge it.
A blog I follow posts a daily reading from recovery literature and one struck my fancy the other day…
There are a few things I’ve done that have helped me live a sober, happy, wonderful life. One sticks out above all others, though…
If we are planning to stop drinking, there must be no reservation of any kind, nor any lurking notion that someday we will be immune to alcohol.
~Alcoholics Anonymous, 4th Edition, More About Alcoholism, pg. 33~
I take the notion of hope for immunity to another level. Not only can I never achieve immunity, I can’t even hope for decency, happiness, or anything that remotely looks like success if I decide to consume alcohol.
If I take a drink, I’m cooked. Done. Stick a fork in me.
I will give up everything that is good in my life, in a matter of months, to stay drunk. Alcohol won’t take anything from me, by the way, dears. This is a program of honesty. I will give it all away. Freely. My health will follow, shortly thereafter, because if we know anything about alcoholism and drug addiction, it’s that the disease is progressive. It doesn’t take time off, it just lurks in the shadows for an opportunity to wreak havoc.
I am evil when I drink, so every morning I wake up and thank God for my daily reprieve from alcoholism… and for helping me to remember just how bad I was before I quit. I have done this 9,360 times, and with a little grace and another daily reprieve, today will be 9,361.
I also remember that which is second-most important; I can have all of that misery back, if I miss it. All I have to do is take a drink.
The lesson for the day; don’t fuckin’ drink, even if your ass falls off. Put it in a plastic bag and take it to a meeting. Someone will be able to show you how they put theirs back on.