This week, Linda Garibay’s monthly welfare check will drop by $43.
In Toledo, 150 women and children invaded welfare-department headquarters last month, tumbling workers from their chairs and tossing mounds of paper work onto the floor. In Boston, 50 others staged a raucous sit in at the Massachusetts Statehouse, refusing to budge until police carted them away
CAN a nation with a trillion-dollar economy be running out of money? That startling question is forcing itself upon every government official who must shape a budget, from President Nixon down to the head of the smallest local mosquito-abatement district
How would you like to pay only a quarter of the real estate taxes you owe on your home? And buy everything for the next 10 years without spending a single penny in sales tax?
When the welfare officers came to take three-year-old Archie Roach from his tin-lined house in Framlingham in southeastern Australia, they told his mother they were escorting him to a picnic.
For a nation whose citizens pride themselves on self-reliance, the U.S. doles out an awful lot of welfare