If you've read what I have to say about diamonds, or had a few drinks with me and happened to bring up the topic of consumerism, then you probably have deduced that at my heart of hearts lies a conservative (as in thrifty, not republican) woman who prefers "use it up and wear it out" to "throw it out and buy a new one". Periodically throughout the year, and always with the first Santa I see hocking goods to hapless shoppers, I go on a rant about disposable crap that no one really needs, nothing is unusual anymore because it's all available at Wal-Mart, and as a culture we're drowning ourselves in debt to purchase this useless shit in order to distract us from the cold hard fact that although we've abolished slavery within our borders we are in full support of it elsewhere if it will save us fifty cents on a pair of socks.
But surrounding that heart of hearts is the heart of a sheep, just like every one else. I am susceptible to advertising. After all, corporations spent in excess of $149 billion last year trying to part me from my hard-earned money. They had a less-than-average success rate with me, but that doesn't mean I am not guilty of buying useless shit. And when I go on these little rants, it's not meant to be anti whatever-new-toy-you-just-bought, it's because I occasionally become completely disgusted with myself for falling for it. I try to be good and really evaluate purchases before I make them, but so much of the time I feel alone in my quest for simplicity. There are fringe groups that share my views on the collection of stuff; convents and monasteries mostly, but there are also a few communes still in existence; and there have been times in my life when I've considered one or the other of them as a life choice. (I really enjoy sex and hate the smell of patchouli, so neither truly seemed like viable options for me. Plus I don't think I'm that brave... and I am unfortunatley, and very un-Zenlike, attached to some of my stuff.)
Tonight, though, I felt justified and righteous for the first time in a very long time. I was cruising through the McMenamins movie times, looking for something interesting to watch while I had dinner (the writer's strike is either going to kill me or purify me... the jury is still out on which) when I found the new Morgan Spurlock ("Super Size Me" and "30 Days") production "What Would Jesus Buy?". I decided that it would be a great way to spend the evening, and even invited a few friends to join me. Ironically, those who declined did so in favor of shopping. So I headed out on my own and found myself rejuvenated, my heart rejoicing to hear the message of the right Reverend Billy and the Stop Shopping Choir. I heartily encourage you to check out his site, I guarantee you'll see a bit of yourself there. I know I did, and it nauseated me.
