Buyer, Be Wary

I went to the franchise eye doctor for the once-a-year today, in the Land of Things, the big arse-whuppity Mall. Floored, I was, positively floored. The Mall is not for me in any language. I don't think there are enough people to buy all that stuff, what the heck are they thinking? Where does it all go? The stuff that sells, the stuff that doesn't sell; it has all been put into existence and will be here for the next how many thousand years? The most uncomfortable feeling is that after it is discarded in favor of newer items is that it goes to a landfill, or more likely, our ocean. I mean, open your eyes, people! What the hell is going on that there are over one hundred styles of watches in several six foot long glass cases in the larger department store alone! Is this fun? My lord in the sky, it is frightening.

The shoes, the sneakers, the clothing, is any of this worth the prices asked? Don't even get me going on store display, for all that goes into the trash as well. What has this become but a never-ending Merry-go-Round for humans needing a constant high from achievement measured in bags of loot? And every single bit of it eventually hits the garbage. Where else do you think it goes?

Look, I know there are items designed for fun, like the barbeque spatula I almost picked up at Brookstone for my son. One side was a wide spatula, the other a smaller spatula to clamp down atop whatever food was being picked up. Not for the $20 price tag. There were spurlings of metal along the edges, the wooden grippers were too thick and heavy making it awkward, and the whole thing was a once in a while convenience. Crappy quality for twenty dollars.

Women seemed to be the worst offenders, buying up bags in a hurry like hens before a rainstorm. Is it the nesting instinct mismanaged into pretentiousness? You have money for all this crap? Could you not be accomplishing something better? And when will you tire of it, what do you do with it? Even if it becomes a donation to a thrift shop, eventually it will go to the same place, the garbage. Not into thin air, but some unseen landfill. Forgive me if I am not thrilled with your alleged prizes. After being discarded, the many, many shoes are on their way to poisoning some aquifer, adding to the dead zones slowly gyring in the ocean, or traveling the highways in the tractor-trailer world of shifting garbage. Do you see it or have to deal with it? Before the end of your lifetime, I would imagine that you will be experiencing some sort of consequence to the planet as a result of all this wasteful, self-centered consumerism.

Shopping is fun and a great stress reliever, but the end of all things doesn't happen, and we need to slow down. Greed is ugly; without foresight, it is deadly. I promise you won't have to hear this again at least for another year when my eyes get rechecked. If I have offended anyone, I am not sorry and you can go jump. Do something rewarding for other people, and then I will retract the pincers. This is just from visiting one Mall, good lord, just think of all the places that sell items in this country, from the most exclusive to the dollar store. Unless you are building a collection of well-made, useful heirlooms to pass on, get a grip. What you're looking for isn't in your purse.

My god, maybe I am tired. Trotting through Macy's almost put me into a seizure of nausea from the sheer amount of materialism set to the sound of bouncy jingles designed to make you stay in the store longer, so you shop more. "Armani is on sale," intoned one sales clerk settled in the the middle of the aisle so she could offer this earthshaking news. Blow it out your ear, lady and outta my way. My eyes are dilated and this whole affair reeks of poor value, simply because Chinese manufacturing has superseded our own and we don't need all this fake shit as a substitute for avoiding feeling whatever shortcomings handed to us.

Bed. Time. Now. I am sleepy, and the eyes are tired. Can't wait to crawl in. This month, a total lunar eclipse is scheduled, allowing the constellations to temporarily outshine the moon. How fun, but I will be asleep. Maybe the foxes will notice, the foxes out in the woods who live by night searching for mice and rabbit pie. I will let you go on ahead without me, and find the moon when it returns from it's blood-red journey, the moon, the moon. Yip. Sleep well.