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That doesn't surprise me, since you are apparently unable to contest my arguments, and are possibly still smarting from that embarrassing thread in which you posed as an expert on the military.

However, you keep putting up absolutely irresistable posts, so I'll continue without you.

What I need to have explained is how my 19-year-old son was able to vault past minimum wage after six months on an entry-level job, when many on this thread seems to think that the minimum wage must be raised, because the poor never make more than the minimum.

Actually, San Diego's median now is about $489,000. That figure, of course, is much lower than the median in Point Loma, where you mentioned you spent your teen years.

It's interesting that where I live evokes such hatred from you. Especially since Halx lives in Simi Valley, which is white as a bedsheet, but that doesn't seem to be a problem.

In much the same way that you decided to "cure my ignorance" on the military, you now profess to impart information about poverty. Here's a little personal history (not one of your "studies"):

My father grew up on a farm. Had a brother who died from whooping cough. Had another that died when he fell in the family sawmill. Never had a paying job until he graduated from high school, because he had to work on the farm every day without pay.

I can remember visiting that farm and being assigned to run around the house flapping a towel to get rid of the flies when "company" was coming. Some of you might correctly gather from that statement that it wasn't air conditioned, even though it's in the Florida panhandle. By any measure you provide, my father's family was poverty-stricken. I guess it's a good thing they didn't seem to know it. Otherwise, his siblings might not all have gotten college educations.

My mother was the only child of a bank president. When the depression hit, his bank went under. My grandfather had to inform my mother that there was no money for her to attend college. Shortly thereafter, my granddmother had a stroke, and my mother cared for her for six months until she died.

I don't know what jobs my grandfather had from then on, but when he died, he was working as a janitor in the local YMCA.

My first job was a paper route at age 9. By age twelve, I also cleaned my church for money, which wasn't all bad, because I got to ride their riding lawn mower.

I recognized early that I was not going to be a rock star or a professional athlete. I also realized that I didn't want to stay at my first "real" job, which included scraping bird shit off of the large vehicles that haul peanuts. Hence, I applied myself to academics, and was able to get assistance with my college expenses.

During graduate school, I lived with three other guys in a house so old that class parties were held there because it was practically impossible to make it look any worse. When we moved out, the city used it as a haunted house at Halloween for a few years, then tore it down entirely.

During graduate school, I had three part-time jobs, and classes were 8-5, Monday-Friday. My work schedule was twelve days on, two days off.

Upon moving to San Diego, I lived with my wife on the second floor of a large house. The first floor tenants were illegals.

One son came along right before I started my own business. After six months, my net profit from the business was a total of $70. Over the past 17 years, things have improved. I eventually moved to a nicer neighborhood, which seems to infuriate you (quotes from you available on request).

Neither my grandparents, my parents, nor I have ever received government assistance. However, now that things are better, all kinds of people (including the government) crawl out of the woodwork to tell me how much I am either legally or morally required to give away.

Speaking of giveaways: Among the causes I contribute to are wheelchairs for the citizens of Malawi, eye surgery for the indigent in Guatemala, schoolbooks for African children, and worldwide polio eradication.

You spoke of "relative poverty." Those situations involve REAL poverty. By the way, those people say "Thank you," instead of whining about why they weren't given more.

Oh, I also contribute to a summer camp for US children in wheelchairs. They don't all live in poverty, but they deserve the time they spend at the camp.

I do NOT contribute to people who feel entitled to the money of people who work, by "virtue" of the unfairness of life. However, I've got a suggestion.

Since there has been so much talk about increasing taxes on those greedy people who make over $200,000, or $1 million, or whatever, let's jump aboard the tax bandwagon:

I propose an immediate surtax of 30% for all college instructors. College costs have frequently increased at around 10% a year, and for what? For instructors to put a lecture on videotape (or have a TA do the lecture) and haul it out once a semester for ten or twenty years? And apply for tenure in the meantime?

We can dedicate the money to student aid, thereby greatly increasing the number of people with college educations, and we'll make a huge dent in the poverty problem!

(Pardon me--I was distracted by the sound of someone's ox being gored in the distance.)

Bottom line: If you're downwardly mobile, you should ask yourself what you can do to improve your lot, instead of indulging in the mindset described by Frederic Bastiat, who said, "The state is that great fiction by which everyone tries to live at the expense of everyone else."
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