grumpy consumption list
Music: Pet Shop Boys: Fundamental
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, which is to say the same side of the bed, just hotter than normal. I tried to watch some morning programming, but I was irritated that even though dozens of innocent civilians are killed everyday by Israel's copycatism (you know, if the U.S. can do it then so can we), all three networks are completely fluff: "Women over 60 are hot," and "you need to have a home base when you take your family to the water park." I suppose I need to get cable, but I just know that unless I pay $200 to get everything so that I can get overseas news (e.g., the BBC), it's gonna be more of the same B.S. I bet Headline News is down to ten minutes hard news. This all reminded me of all the shit that irritates me lately. See if you agree:
four consumer-related things that make me grumpy
1. The new megamediamonopolation ethic: the practice of admitting in a media program that one of the big five is your parent corporation, so that you appear to have no conflict of interest. For example, Good Morning America does it every freaking day. Today's story on water parks ended with this: "By the way, I need to mention that America's number two water park, Blizzard Beach, is owned by our parent corporation Disney." Bullshit: that's a plug, not an admission or a display of ethical responsibility.
2. Whole Foods shoppers: It's true you can get some really cool stuff at Whole Foods. I went there yesterday to get some ultra-yummy vegetarian chicken. But the people who shop there who are not me are absolute jerks and the store design is the absolute pits. Combine the two and you understand why you need steel-toe combat boots: self-important triple income yuppies aimlessly wander the aisles while talking on their cell phones. Oh, if I ever felt tempted to join the NRA it was yesterday, after the third 40-something yuppite rammed me with her cart (so busy talking she didn't bother to apologize). When the check-out woman asked how I was doing, I told her terrible and I was tired to all the self-important yuppies. "Oh, well, you think you're tired? I work here buster, and it's annoying to say the least." We then talked about "yes, but . . . .": Whole Foods treats its employees very, very well. Even so, the people who shop there still suck ass. It's really the other side of the Wal-Mart--same coin, different monetary value and associated class.
3. Advertising at the check out: ok, so, I had to pick up the new Pet Shop Boys album after hearing David Pye rave about it (and I am also a non-apologetic celebrant of all things PSB--except that song "New York City Boy," which I despise). So after you wait in the cattle-cue because only two cashiers bothered to come to work today (must be the heat), they freakin' ask you if you want a magazine subscription. Do I look like I have time to read magazines? Why would I want to slow up the line and waste everyone's time behind me by filling out a subscription form? Sports Illustrated? Do I look like a sports fan? Ugh! And Target asks you if you want a credit card every time. Pisses. Me. Off.
4. Buyer's Cards: Now, all the major shopping stores for perishables require you to have a freakin' "buyer's card." My wallet is so fat with the places I shop (Albertson's, Randall's, Petco, Pets Mart, and so on) that my ass starts to hurt from the lump in about ten minutes. It used to be when places started requiring these damned things that you'd get coupons in the mail and shit. Now they don’t' even bother. My grad school friend Katie D. used to joke these cards were the "mark of the beast," thereby signaling the apocalypse. What Randall's does, for example, is jack up the price of everything, and then lower the price below normal on select items. To get out of that damned place paying "on average" what you used to pay, you have to have one of those freakin' bar codes. Why? So they can track your buying habits for market research and sell your name to other companies who send you shit in the mail (I enjoyed the free Altoids candies, though). Absolutely little net benefit to this racket (well, I did like the Altoids), except if you want a purse that weighs twice as much as it should, or a sore ass. Sorry people, but I only want a sore ass from getting spanked . . . in the bedroom.
Rarrrrrrrrr grumpy grumpy grumpy!