Via McQ at Q and O, the most frightening set of charts I’ve ever seen. [The narration text is on the left, with a Mute button above it if you don't have the patience to listen to it.]
Ross Perot, “the hand grenade with a bad haircut”, as McQ puts it, presents a lesson on “Suicidal Spending”, explaining what the Federal budget numbers and projections mean, and it’s bad, very. Almost all of the bad news comes from “non-discretionary spending”, that is, “entitlements” the government is required to pay out to its dependents. Most of those are Social Security, welfare, and health care, and of those, the one that’s steaming out of control is health care.
Let me emphasize: It’s not the Bushitler’s War of Lies that’s exploding the national debt. Nor is it his Tax Cuts for the Weatlhy Not Poor.
It’s us Baby Boomer hippies, and our insatiable and insane desire to put our retirement and health care in the hands of a government we don’t trust to tell us whether or not we should smoke a joint.
I’m a Boomer, ashamed of and, increasingly, frightened by that status. My Generation is responsible for reducing us to a nation of superstitious cowards, traitors, and freeloaders. As Perot’s presentation shows, the ratio of workers to retirees is falling; the pyramid scheme is cratering. Further, the public education system, the one created, operated, and managed by My Generation, is turning out bleating sheep, not productive citizens, with zero ability or desire to take care of themselves, much less their parents and uncles and aunts.
Worse, the increasing willingness of the government to tax and flat out confiscate private property means that even capitalist pigs who, unlike me, have engaged in the oppresive fascist practice of prudent financial planning, will fare no better. Their bank accounts and trust funds will be socialized to feed the restless flock.
At this point, I’m no longer worried about whether I’ll be able to retire on Social Security and Medicare. I know that’s a rapidly evaporating pipe dream.
I’m worried about having to listen to “When I’m Sixty Four” blaring through the Golden Oldies Rest Camp loudspeakers when I’m led off to take The Shower.