The slippery slope

I can’t recall the slippery slope
out into the great big wide world, but I hear was a tight and bloody.
At least I didn’t come wrapped in a wad of money, or need a parachute,
because the doc knocked back a few on duty.
I was born in the era of the peanut farmer, when a great philanthropist held the office; and America was a habitat for humanity and not a golf tournament.
My birth reminds me of an infinitesimally small event:
An ant emerging from his pupa, hungry, spit into his caste;
and instead of being fed by his queen,
he was told to get in line, emerge into the light and frequent the canteen, to bring her back food.
...and after she ate, to scrub her latrines,
and be a kapo over her crew.