SNAP, Crackle, Pop

Today I applied for foodstamps.

There's a little story to go with this.

In the early to mid 2000s, I was a broke, unemployed PhD with massive student loans, in a profession with no future in this dying Empire (literature). After the credit cards ran out, I went on foodstamps. I had to report regularly to a caseworker, show up for make-work volunteer positions. I swung a hammer at Habitat for Humanity construction sites.

I distinctly remember that the social service office back then was full of refugees from Katrina. Plain-spoken, ordinary folks who had lost everything. The invasion of Iraq had just turned sour, but not one of us suspected that a financial hurricane of Wall Street fraud was about to obliterate the US middle class. 
 
Back then, I got a reprieve by going back to grad school. Worked myself to the bone becoming the best possible media researcher I could be. I survived on the pittance of grad loans.

In 2009, the loans ran out. So I lived on less. Not less as in less luxury or less entertainment, but less food. Less clothing. Less of everything.

Now it's 2012. I have yet another PhD. I'm still broker than hell. I owe even more in student loan debt. The job market is broken, just like the entire economy.

So it's back to foodstamps. And Habitat will soon enjoy the services of the most over-educated nailsmith of all time.