A truce in class civil warfare

The non-combatants

There are homeless people sleeping and eating at the library. They aren't loud or disruptive, but they are ostentatiously homeless. Dirty faces, body odor, and carrying around lot of stuff. Some read a newspaper, but most close their eyes and sit around.

All of them have large backpacks and it makes me self-conscious about wearing my large backpack. Every time I use the bathroom, one or more homeless people are occupying stalls.

Buy Capitalism bonds!

How can you tell a rich person? Their kids are well dressed. They have funny looking dogs. They aren't loud or disruptive, but they are ostentatiously rich. They have nothing they must do that day, and are not a bit concerned.

Like the homeless, the rich people walk about without a purpose. What difference is there between the rich and poor, just material goods. The rich deposit their excess cash into the open beaks of shops, clubs, and restaurants. They spend money in search of leisure and sensations. They are doing the same thing as the homeless, loitering about.




The median income per capita is high, but so is poverty. Look at the *median* salary of those who own the house they live in: almost six figures! That means half the home owner household make over $100,000. Note also that men make about 45% more salary than women. So that's roughly $40.8k for the wife, $59.2k for the husband. The people who rent, however, make only $55,000 in the entire house.

High income and high poverty

Restless in Boulder

One might think I'd feel less anxiety knowing that there are many homeless around, that I'd be well tolerated. Instead, I feel crummy that they've established an image that I don't want to associate with. Smoking, drinking, and just hanging around. That's not why I'm here. I have a purpose.

(There's this teenage kid pacing in circles in front of me right now and it's starting to really piss me off. He's been at it for five minutes and not making anything come of it. What he's doing represents the pointless existence I have been describing.

At least walk in a bigger circle!

Now a man walked up to the kid and they left together. The teenager had been waiting for his Dad. Such passive aggressive face-punchable behavior.)

I can't stay here. I don't feel comfortable around either the wealthy or the homeless.

Jumping to a conclusion

From reported numbers and a day of walking 'round town, I conclude that Boulder is rich people and homeless people.

The median income in Boulder is higher than the national and state average. The poverty rate is as well. Unreported in these statistics are the numerous homeless people who don't make any income to measure, so the divide between the rich and the penniless may be even larger.

City-data.com

City-data.com

Humidity

I walked into a Colorado Athletic Club, because there was an outdoor pool and I wanted to find out the price of membership. Bottom line: $120 a month, single site only. The customer representative who discussed the membership was a decent fellow as a person. He didn't actual live in Boulder, but out somewhere the name of which he told me and I didn't remember. I assume it's a far cheaper area to live and buy a house in. But his service as a salesman was concierge-like, in the way that service people treat the rich, graciously offering freebies and perks in expectation of getting back a far greater commission on sales.

I didn't tell him I was rich or poor, but I was honest and vague about explaining my situation. We played along the roles of him selling me a membership, but by the end he probably knew it was a long shot that I would actually pay $120 to use their three lane indoor swimming pool. Their outdoor heated pool was much bigger and nicer, but you had to walk outside and cross the street to get to it. No matter how heated the ground was, it would still be suicidal for me to expose my skinny pale yellow butt on a cold windy day.

The business card the customer rep gave me does have a voucher for a one-day guess pass, so I suppose I ought to take a hot shower with it, but meh. The humid toadiness of these clubs wards me away. It's like you are sweating on a treadmill, and they come up with a damp towel and drip the sweat off of you and turn it into money. Stop touching me with your invisible open wallets! Your hands feel like the clammy old grasp of my childhood caretaker.