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Hot take: having contact with poor people makes you stop having pity on them

They are always looking for a way to take advantage of others, and are constantly stealing and sabotaging each other, contributing to their general misery. In poor countries the media tries to glorify the culture and good-will of the lower classes, but those lower classes don't get to stand 100m from them without their bodyguards dog-piling them.

Even among the poors, the first thing someone that gets any modicum of wealth does is moving to a closed-off condominium and acquiring a bullet-proof suv so they don't ever have to interact with those people again. And that is the smart thing to do, because otherwise their former friends would try everything to sabotage them behind their back, unable to cope with someone other than them going up in life.

The only way to solve their rotten nature would be a chink-like reeducation camp where favela-dwellers learn to behave more like jews and less like gipsies.

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When I was in highschool I worked at a local gas station just between the country, where I live, and a small city. Most of the people living farther out like I do were upper lower or lower middle class, right at the level were we didn't have a lot of white trash. The city is also fairly fine, mostly the slightly upper middle class. The problem was the marchland just outside of the city. It was mostly meth heads and pieces of shit that fit your description perfectly, and all their trailers were near the gas station(which was popular among them as their dumb asses thought that because it was smaller then food lion it must be cheaper).

The moment that really stuck with me to this day was when I was talking to this guy who came in a lot. He was a former meth head who was also a pathological liar. He was telling me about something some rich kid had supposedly done to him and at one point he said along the following lines, "...'cause I came up poor, like I'm assuming you did..." It filled me with such disgust and revulsion that I literally had to stop myself from correcting him.

I had never thought about the difference between someone like me and someone like him before, but at that moment the void between us went from a crack in the sidewalk to a ocean trench and I lost all sympathy for the poor in that single moment. Its not because of what he was, but because he refused to grow out of that poverty in the sixty shitty years he was alive. He didn't need to be smart, lucky, or even particularly hardworking to make it out of his poverty, he wasn't some Pakistani factory worker that got paid 20 cent and a coke every week. All he needed to do to live an okay life was get a mediocre job at a hardware store or dinner and then not come into work high or drunk, or refuse to do his job because a customer or their boss "disrespected" him. Instead he spent the previous 45 years doing meth, drinking, and spending government Gibbs on frozen food and soda.

As a Christian I try to hold no hate in my heart and to judge people on the now and not the past. But working there was a constant Dark Night of the Soul. I was in consistent contention of being confronted with the dregs of man and the belief that all men are God's children and should be treated with kindness and a clear heart.

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