The Better Life

A recent e-mail from my (Republican, of course) U. S. Senator said something about the American Dream of one's children having a better life than the parents.   On face value, this looks like something reasonable.  Don't all parents (except the psychotic ones, and there are quite a few of those around) want Better for their children?  What the e-mail was aiming at was another better and blisteringly hot and surging economy where each generation is able to earn mo' money, mo' money than the previous one.

I thought we learned this lesson in the 60s and 70s when the boomer children turned on, dropped out, and forsook the values of their parents - which drove their parents totally wild. [In the interest of discretion, I will admit to having been a Young Republican and missing out on all of that somehow.  But I saw it happening, if only by being documented in the popular culture of the day - AKA sitcoms, etc.]  Even today I see Boomer parents looking on in disbelief as their children avoid the Professions or any full-time work that involves Benefits.  People who sweated through years of collecting bachelors and masters degrees see their kids, those that actually went to and finished college, waiting tables or travelling around the world camping out on strangers' sofas.  Many of these parents don't understand why these kids are happy.

It strikes me that this particular American Dream was the one where the parents escaped a war-torn geography or totalitarianism and worked hard so that their kids could have the freedom to decide what they wanted to be.  A few of those children may have decided to go on and be financial or industrial moguls, but you can only have so many of those, even in America.   If the American Dream is for your children to be rich beyond your wildest dreams, then you have a sad, sad imagination.

I'm not an economist or know anything about math for that matter, but it's common sense to me that an economy cannot grow endlessly.  I have finally accepted the fact that our economy is based on the endless manufacture and purchase of shit.  If we stopped buying shit, our world would collapse.  If we don't stop manufacturing shit, we're going to drown in it.  I don't see a way out of this conundrum.  If my dad taught me anything, it was the Law of Diminishing Returns.  If being a woman has taught me anything, it's that things go in cycles.  Yes, the economy has a downturn, but it comes back up again.  Then it goes down again.  We cannot keep making it go up.  All we can do is protect ourselves for the times when it goes down.  That may mean protecting people we think don't deserve a hand-out, but that's not our call because when it comes to Stuff, we can't be trusted.  We turn into the formerly docile chimps suddenly fighting over bananas.

People are greedy.  Don't argue with me.  Some may be less greedy than others, but it's programmed into us for when we need it to survive.  However, if we aren't starving, we should leave that tool in the box.  If you have shelter and enough to eat, you are doing well.  In a civilized society, you shouldn't have to worry about not having food or shelter.  If you have more than one house (and I'm speaking as someone who does have more than one house, but would like to get rid of one of them - let me know if you need one), you have excess shelter.  If you, like I, have trouble deciding whether to have Ginger Delight with Pork and Thai iced tea or Keema Mattar and Chai for dinner, then you have an excess of food.  If you begrudge anyone else having any of your excess, you are greedy.  If you have five houses and wonder which country to have dinner in and you still begrudge anyone having  any of your excess, then you are a hopeless bastard.

Where did this dislike of paying taxes come from?  In all my years with my parents, I never heard any bellyaching about paying taxes or where it was going.  You think a Republican apple fell from a Democratic tree?  Guess again.  They would get all excited about Republican candidates [that is, until Reagan].  My parents were middle-class people with a single income and two kids.  We were raised to value Fiscal Responsibility at home.  You don't come much tighter with a penny than Depression Era parents.   You bought a house you could pay for, not the biggest you could afford.  [ In her later years my mother wondered if that were a mistake.  I wish I could tell them now that it wasn't.]  Taxes were not the issue.  "Tax" was not a bad word.

The only problem I have with paying taxes is the forms.  They're so needlessly complicated. I used to solve that problem by organizing all my 1099s and forms and pouring myself a big glass of bourbon.  I figure that if I don't have a problem paying taxes, then rich people shouldn't either.

I also don't believe that rich people create jobs.  I think people with ideas create jobs.  Rich people only create ideas to hold onto what they've got: tax loopholes, Political Action Committees, Credit Default Swaps, etc.  Those things don't help anyone but rich people and then when some of their ideas go bad, everyone suffers.

So what is the American Dream?

I think the kids know: it's the freedom to find what you really want to be doing, what you really do well.  It's being free to be yourself, to love and be loved by someone of your choosing.  It's giving everyone else the same consideration.  It's having enough money to pay your fair share of taxes to keep that Dream available to everyone, maybe.

Sold American!

At long last I have finished this book, Sold American: Consumption and Citizenship, 1890 - 1945 by Charles F. McGovern. I need to preface my remarks on it by admitting that I do not recall ever discussing anything concerning this topic with Charlie in the time I spent living in the half-a-house he and a friend of mine rented. Therefore, this is not a "why the hell didn't he mention me in his acknowledgements when there were six pages of them and he mentioned everyone else who walked by" essay ... regardless of how it sounds.

We talked of plenty of other stuff, mostly his roommate and my friend who is a pretty colorful character. And of course we would talk about me, or, rather, I would talk about me and he would listen. Charlie is an Olympic Champion at Active Listening. "Talk to me," he would say and then nod audibly through the whole shebang. He did this for me the first time we talked, which was actually when I had called from New York and was trying to reach his roommate. "You sound upset," he said. "Talk to me." Why his bed did not "groan from the weight of grateful women" is beyond me (or maybe it did and I just wasn't around). He listened, he played guitar, and he was immensely entertaining as an armchair commentator on the World Series. "Hal Laneah [aka: Lanier]? Hal Laneah?! Where do they dredge up these third base coaches?!" I can't watch sports unless I'm with someone who takes it personally. Then it's fun. Well, fun to watch the paroxysms.

But, to The Tome. I'm not through with the footnotes yet, but I did slog through the text. And I mean "slog" in the nicest way. This is the meaty prose of the dissertation, lightened hither and yon by Charlie's inimitable wryness. Example: subheading in chapter 7: "Slaughter on Madison Avenue" - great balls o' fire, he even worked in a musical reference! Further on, he remarks that "in the early 1930s the Buy-ological Urge [as expressed by Better Homes and Gardens] seemed less frequent than cicadas." This topic is actually one of my pet bugbears. I am a fan of Consumer Reports, which I refer to before all major purchases (using the library copy - tee hee!) I was crushed when the kids' version, Zillions, went on-line where I couldn't read it. There was a time that I wandered around ranting that our economy was based solely on the exchange of cash for crap, yards of crap, endless steaming juggernauts of crap. And what was worse, there seemed to be no way away from it. I truly hoped that this book would tell me where this happened (which might lead to a way away from it). Not wishing to provide any "spoilers" to my posse of reader, the book does not do this. You can start reading again, Bob. Anyway, it's never one defining moment. This is a process beginning in the 1890s and on-going to our day and beyond. By "beyond," I mean more than in time, but also geographically. Consumerism seems to be the Ice Nine that will doom our civilization.

If Charlie's book does anything, it confirms my fears (not really immediate fears, but deep ones) about business and advertising. In the three years before I moved in with Charlie and Our Mutual Friend, I lived in Manhattan and took the occasional job in an advertising and/or public relations firm. These jobs might last a day or a week. In one case, it lasted about half a week until I became disgusted by the practices of one agency and started to feign illness so I would not have to go back and be a part of it the next day. I knew admen and PR people were soulless bastards who callously labeled the public in denigrating terms (even before I saw the Goodies "String" episode). That wouldn't surprise or bother me to see it confirmed. The work this particular agency was doing on behalf of a pharmaceutical company wouldn't have seemed half as bad if they hadn't been so covert about it. Why was I not given the job of typing up a particular letter, that was then put in an envelope and the copy and the mag-card (remember mag-cards?) put in a locked cabinet? Hmmmm.

I really do not remember how I got my hands on the letter. No, I really don't. It didn't take long, though. They were hiring a writer to create a "professional newsletter" about a particular therapy that would push a medication that hadn't fared too well in testing (not being particularly effective and causing problems to the user). Okay, that's not so bad. They had, however, developed a similar medication for the same condition that was more effective and had fewer side effects, but they were planning on releasing that later and getting their money out of the development of the inferior treatment first. The free newsletter only had to go on for two or three issues before disappearing. It would be provided to doctors who specialized in treating this ailment. This is all you need to explain my opinion of pharmaceutical companies and the whores they hire to represent them.

In another all-about-me anecdote, after I moved across town, Our Mutual Friend came to visit and after hours of playful banter, excused himself and used the bathroom. When he came out, he commented that he'd looked at the personal care products that were in the shower (interesting - they wouldn't be readily viewable). "Are those yours?" he asked. I allowed as they were mine. "I didn't recognize a single brand," was his comment. I said I didn't buy by brand. I look at the ingredients and then I smell it. If it's body lotion, I might taste it as well (just in case I got lucky, really really lucky). He had visited once when I was braising some root vegetables and beef bones to make soup stock. "Boy, it sure smells good in here. What are you making?" I told him and he looked at me curiously. "Why do you do that?" And then he answered his own question, perhaps with a touch of sarcasm. "So you know what's in it?" Bingo.

So, I have a lot of weird stuff in my bathroom. So what? There are plenty of people who will run out and buy ... whatever the expensive shampoo stuff is. Can't even remember the name of the brand. Admen would be appalled. I buy the store brands and the off-brands because I was raised that way. My dad pontificated about the cost of the corn that went into a package of cornflakes versus the price and how the national advertising drove up that price ... at the breakfast table. Over his cornflakes. A kid can go one way or the other because of that. I went that-a-way.

So now, thanks to Charlie, I want to read Veblen and bust the stranglehold business has on our society ... excepting, of course, my husband's business which should thrive and everyone should have a lovely Harmonic Capo whether they have a guitar or not. Get out there and buy, y'all!

The only thing worse than the crushing realization that we cannot get off this tiger of relentless consumption of crap, is the knowledge that we're infecting the rest of the world. We rape the natural resources of other continents, we allow their people to be enslaved to make our crap that we just throw away, and, on top of it, they want a piece of the crap-cycle themselves. But despite the major depression this brings on (well, on me, anyway), imagine the fun of researching this by poring over old magazines! Look at the cover of the book! And there's more inside the book - some absolutely appalling ads supporting business interests, not just promoting products. During the Second World War, production of consumer goods was curtailed for the war effort, but the producers didn't want people to forget their products or for the dreaded consumerists to get the upper hand, so they promoted themselves. American GIs were out there being killed for Kelvinator. They were dying so that the folks at home could some day enjoy the benefits of modern appliances again. Never mind that Hitler guy and his crazy ideas about non-Aryans. Advertising didn't care about anyone who wasn't white and middle-class. The freedom we fight for now is the freedom to choose Maytag over GE!

America has some bizarre potlatch society (this was another one of my rants from back in the day) where we have to have more than anyone else or better or newer and we just throw things away when we get bored with them. I include myself in this group. My boombox eats the cassette tapes? It won't pick up NPR anymore? Time to buy a new one! (Actually, if I tried to take my boombox to the local repair shop, I'd get eyes rolled at me by that arsehole ... again, and my husband would probably disown me because he hasn't forgiven that arsehole for the "Not all moslems are terrorists but all terrorists are moslem" on his marquee, which I have to admit is pretty unforgivable - how soon we forget, eh?) I saw a cd-player in a catalog once that held 100 cds and I was waxing all rabid about "Who would have that many cds?!" when I stopped and thought a moment and went to count mine. I had over 150. Key-rist, I'd need two of those players! Just because I don't buy ... hmmm, brand name still escapes me - blah-blah shampoo doesn't mean I'm not a die-hard consumer! Just look at the desk in front of me: big-ass monitor, printer/scanner/copier, digital camera, headset with microphone, speakers and a sub-woofer, and a little brush for getting the cathair out of the keyboard.

A little brush ... for getting cathair ... out of a keyboard.


I am currently engaged in a great experiment (no caps) in which society can be re-created in better ways. Thrilled at the outset, I plunged into Second Life (registered trademark lalala) to see what people were making of this virtual world. I found the library ... I heard about the sex clubs (big deal - all new genres and formats will first be used to titillate and finally frustrate the dateless) ... but mostly it seems to be about shopping. Making things and selling them. Huge malls spring up:

Lludmila overwhelmed by glittery crap.

And, of course, I'm there. I don't have any money, because I didn't think I needed any. You don't need to eat or sleep there, so what do you need the money for? You can create your own clothing out of nothing. What am I doing there? Pursuing the freebie. The size of my inventory is something outrageous. Do I ever throw anything away? Even the ugly clothes? Apparently not! If I actually had money here, I can't imagine what depths of consumer depravity I'd resort to. Today I saw for sale a gynecologist's table, with a "fist animation" - for only $99L! This is less than half a penny. And I don't even need a house to put it in! I can store it in my inventory, "just in case!" And I have not spent one dime in this place. I can earn money just by "camping" (usually just sitting in a chair to plump up the location's usage statistics) or by getting an actual job (a virtual friend recently had an opening for a hostess in her cafe). I usually win my Lindens at trivia quizzes. Most of this virtual money goes to tips at locations where I hang out. Occasionally I will purchase an item, but most of the things I've gotten have been free. I subscribe to a blog that will tell me exactly where to find free things and what they look like. When I'm poor, I resent other avatars that have "homes" they've furnished and fancier clothing and accessories than I have. This has made me all the more acquisitive ... in-world. Money seems to be piling up in my real life bank account because I don't have time to go out shopping for my real self. I wonder how many other residents feel the same.

Below are some March 2008 spending statistics from the SL website. Apparently, there are a lot of us out there handing over virtual money. The great thing about this virtual world business for economists is that every niggly little transaction is recorded. Raw numbers are posted on the website along with astounding graphs. Don't you just love graphs?




Monthly Spending by Amount (2008 March)
Transaction Size - Residents


1 - 500 L$ - 119,205
501 - 2,000 L$ - 63,940
2001 - 5,000 L$ - 48,453
5,001 - 10,000 L$ - 34,651
10,001 - 50,000 L$ - 59,092
50,001 - 100,000 L$ - 12,818
100,001 - 500,000 L$ - 9,338
500,001 - 1,000,000 L$ - 769
Over 1,000,000 L$ - 506
Total Customers Spending Money In-World - 348,772


The net result of this, is the exchange (between residents) of Linden dollars that are the equivalent of over US$25,000,000. Yes, I put the proper amount of zeros there, but I'll spell it out for you. Avatars spent over twenty-five million US dollars in the month of March. On what? On Things That Don't Even Exist. Charlie, put that in your Kelvinator and smoke it.