This is one of those kinds of threads that show up once in a while, and usually go round the houses and draw the same conclusions; just has this one has then they faded into the dark of night, from wench they came; all the while people are left wondering, ever wanting to know what is happening behind the scenes: Just like the boy Oliver, forever hungry until one day, he takes his tiny wooden bowl, and rises from his seat form whence he sat and meekly says "Please sir, Can I have some more".
But, there is no more not for him, nor even his kindred kind; for there is know more for them whilst those assigned by the state to care, care not whilst that retch and his kind starve and their betters from a higher class then Oliver and his like kin, though lowly in rank them selves to the true high born, they who'd walk the halls of kings, and influence nations with their wealth; they who'd get others to bend their backs to that task the nameless, forgotten many, whilst history crowns them glorious and they take those honers for them self.
Regards to you.
Cyber-Angel