A long, long time a go, I had a history teacher. He had the foresight to realize that high schoolers, more often than not, pay absolutely no attention in class. For those of us with the attention span of a fish, often caught off guard by a question, he offered a universal answer/reason/response: economics.
  Yeah, you're thinking about it....BAM. It's genius.
  This same teacher had a set of buzz words that were repeated solely to elicit a feeling of mild disgust: liberal, democrat, communist. Later, I would find the other side repeated different words, trying to elicit the exact same disgust: conservative, republican, capitalist.
  It was jarring, at first, noticing how sadly similar the enemy camp was. I mean, if you avoided discussing specific issues and stuck to blanket statements, the rhetoric was pretty superficial. So, having infiltrated both camps, I had an enlightened image of myself: shrewd, perceptive, independent.
  Nonetheless, I had one bone to pick with my conservative-buzzzzzz-upbringing and became fond of saying lumpenproletariat and mocking the capitalist system. In that sense, coming to a post-Soviet country had that extra thrill of liberal-buzzzzzzz-camaraderie. It provided an extra layer of smug while I replied to questions about corruption and freedom from either side of the aisle.
  McCarthy had a word for that: sympathizer.
  Still, this afternoon, I was reminded just how much of a capitalist I truly am.
  I've been renting a place in my village since last summer and I have been it's only inhabitant in the past 6-7 years. It's true, there's no real ownership that I have over this place, no contracts, just money that passes hands every month. To me, that still means for however long I'm here, the place is mine.
  To a post-soviet ev yiyəsi who has moved on up to the high life in the capital, it's not mine but hers. Hers to the point where she can come by, unannounced and take the mattress out from under me, rearrange the house to its factory setting and sigh in satisfaction.
  I, capitalist, ignored and unimportant, stand by in passive aggressive fury. Not by choice mind you, I've tried outrage and people have no idea what I'm talking about.

  Heç nə olmaz, they said, shoulders shrugged.

She opens all the windows, I close them. She invites the neighborhood over, I skulk in the corner with a book. She ignores my existence, I make alliances with her daughter in law. I take a nap and her granddaughter tries on all (count em, 3) my shoes. My fragile concept of private property maintains its righteous disgust as my landlord sees nothing but higher ground.
  Sorry enlightened one, the jig is up. All that's left now is attrition-that's mostly economy.

Your Buzz for the Day:
lumpenproletariat – super low class, coined by Marx
ev yiyəsi – landlord
heç nə olmaz – economics! No, but I taught you that before, 'stuff happens' 
attrition- the Cold War, duh