I’m a Consumer Whore

It’s true.  I know by normal American standards my quaint European life may not appear so.  I drive a modest car (that I own), I have no television, and wear the same clothes I have worn since 1867 and am damn proud of them.  Besides, these checkered pants are going to be back in fashion any year now and then won’t you all be sorry!

But the truth is that I actually love new toys.  Anything and Everything.  Cartoon Balloon Sticky Notes [3]?  Yeah.  Star Wars bookends [4]?  Gotta have ‘em!  Watch made out of Dinosaur Poop [5]?  WANT!  There are two things and two things alone keeping me from selling my organs, or my pets, or my pets’ organs to get what I want: a laughably low income and the deep shame of spending money on random crap instead of my children. 

Am I wrong?  Do we not all live in conflict between the commodity fetishism of Madison Avenue and our own sense of shame for having money to spend on crap while most of our brother’s and sister’s earn less than $1 per day?

Apparently not.

[6]

I shot this yesterday at the mall.  In case you can’t tell from the photo, this was a contest – replete with corporate sponsors and ‘Fair Trade’ promotions – where high school students competed with one another to determine who knew the most about their true and golden role on this planet.  Seriously, when did ‘consumer’ stop being an insult?

Sigh.