I just posted this on Ian's wall, and I thought I should make a blog of it.

I thought of the perfect role for me if I do decide to come to International Day. I'll come dressed as a hobo, and sleep under the table with newspapers covering my body.

Fits in with last year as well, since I was the successful business man living the American dream. The person that we are taught to aspire to. I guess it turns out that the American dream was just an advertising pitch. It was a right wing booth, and I was the embodiment of the success the right says everyone is capable of achieving.

This year we live in a blue state, and I become the cost of the American dream. Sure, many people have found it, but at what cost? Not everyone can afford home ownership. Not the people Americans can now buy cheap food from at Walmart. Maybe they could have before that giant corporation closed the store they owned. Perhaps I was one of the many who was promised a home with a mortgage I could afford.

Who could blame me? I had been taught that this was my goal in life. To own a home, to raise a family. Sure, I wasn't born rich and I wasn't particularity bright, but I was an American, this is what was owed to me!

Then the bubble popped, I lost my shitty job, and the bank foreclosed. Now I am homeless and I live under a table at the American Booth. A cost of those living this dream. A cost of those who teach us it is possible. And a cost of those who profit from continuing this lie.

But... maybe this is all too deep for a bunch of third graders. I'll just play it for laughs.