That’s the allocation of public funds FROM MASSACHUSETTS ALONE that have been granted by the state Legislature for EACH evacuee transported from New Orleans to Camp Edwards on Cape Cod.
Put another way: that’s over half a million dollars for a family of five.
In addition, evacuees can choose between a federal cash benefit of $26,000 for housing, transportation, etc., or assistance covering 100 percent of rent and utilities for a year.
Peter, Bonnie and the kids should be so lucky.
Meanwhile, the evacuees have received Federal and private sector largesse, including gift certificates, tickets to sporting events, cars, trucks, apartments, houses, and $15-20/hour job offers.
So, one should excuse the Boston Herald for reporting earlier this week that some evacuees used their 2 grand in unrestricted Federal funds for boozing and visits to a local strip joint.
The reaction from so-called progressives is a) the stories are racist and b) there is plenty of waste to complain about, so why are the evacuees being singled out?
Here’s another take: like most social welfare programs, the majority of the $108,000 per hasn’t ended up in the hands of the needy, but in the pockets of bureaucrats feeding off the public till, including the army of “professionals” who have been deployed to Edwards over the past several weeks.
As to why the drunk, stripper-seeking evacuees are being singled out for public scorn from certain quarters: I fear, as do many others, that a good portion of the 100 or so former NO residents who are choosing to stay in Massachusetts will become permanent wards of the state.
Once they are absorbed into the welfare system, then they lose their lustre as victims of unfortunate circumstance: they become competitors with everyone else who has to fight for limited public dollars.
This isn’t just an additional strain on welfare funds, it’s a drain on funds for infrastructure improvement, schools, public safety, health care, etc.
I’ve been thinking about how I’d feel if I lost “everything”. Aside from my computers, a handful of CDs, a copy of my original birth certificate, son and grandkid memorabilia, and a scrapbook of photos of my mother, I can’t think of much else that would be worth crying over.
Would I expect the taxpayers of some other state to allocate $108,000 on my behalf for worn-out clothes, old pots and pans, ancient appliances, even more ancient furniture? For books I’ll never read again, cheap artwork, a boom box with only one working speaker?
No, I wouldn’t, especially since I wouldn’t see a dime of that money myself and if I needed temporary housing or “counselling” to get over the trauma, I can find that on my own for a lot less than 108 large, especially if the housing were on a desolate military base with no locks on the doors and guards posted everywhere.
If someone offered me a truck, an apartment in Chatham and a job at $20/hour, though, I wouldn’t turn them down.