Poor Eric Hovde. He is just so sick of hearing of our sob stories about how we are poor and need help. No, Eric Hovde is not someone's crotchety old grandfather. He's a strapping young Republican candidate for the U.S. Senate in Wisconsin, and during a recent campaign presentation he accidentally revealed that he is also a terrible person.
He was speaking about "lowering the corporate tax rate, tackling the country's spending problems and lowering the national debt," and then he pointed to a reporter sitting in the audience and went to town:
I see a reporter here. I just pray that you start writing about these issues. I just pray. Stop always writing about, "Oh, the person couldn't get, you know, their food stamps or this or that." You know, I saw something the other day — it's like, another sob story, and I'm like, "But what about what's happening to the country and the country as a whole?" That's going to devastate everybody.
YEAH! Way to stick it to those whiny poor folks, guy who has had every advantage in life. They're so annoying always being like, "Oh, I cant get my fewwd and I am cwabby. Waaaaahh!" For the love of government cheese, what is wrong with this dude? Perhaps he would do well to remember that poor people are Americans too; so what's happening to them is happening to the country as a whole. You know, united we stand, divided we fall, and whatnot?
Not only that, but it is demonstrably untrue that the media is spewing out an endless stream of articles about the nation's many unemployed people and other poverty related "sob stories." A National Journal analysis from last year found that, in fact, the deficit was covered significantly more than unemployment was. So cry me a river, Hovdenator.
Hovde is one of four Republicans running for the Senate seat, so fingers crossed he gets defeated in the primary. If not, he'll face off against Tammy Baldwin, the decidedly more humane Democratic candidate. At the moment, he's polling slightly higher than she is, so it is definitely possible that we could find ourselves in a world of hurt come November—though we sure as hell know who we won't run crying to about it.