Biting the hand that feeds
a SUIT column by Chris Jungle

Okay, okay, okay, okay. Capitalism is the best system for an economy. It gives every individual an opportunity to earn money and spend money only dreamed of in other parts of the world. It allows for those wallowing in the depths of debt to at least fathom the possibility of being rich. It's Horatio Alger. It's Donald Trump. It's Hollywood. It's the American Dream.

But, but, but, but. Even the best economic system has some hang ups. First off, the quest for money makes people assholes. I could think up some euphemisms, but they'd still be assholes. What's worse is that many already wealthy people never end their quest for money. All quests should have an end. Even Sir Galahad finally found the Holy Grail.

And, and, and, and. Another problem with capitalism is that it has created a nation of buyers and sellers. In a word, materialism. People want the latest cars, the newest gadgets, and the prettiest baubles. With all of this desire, a new breed of beast has emerged to feast on the masses--the salesperson.

Buy, buy, buy, buy. I went into a technology store in search of a cheap car stereo. My car stereo was stolen two years ago, and I finally realized I should have music accompanying me on my drives. All I wanted was a stereo to play tapes while the car running. For the saleslady helping me, that wasn't good enough. She wanted me to upgrade my speakers with tweeters and woofers, get the full coverage plan (full coverage for a car stereo?), and get a CD player instead of tape deck.

Sell, sell, sell, sell. I nodded politely as she did her shtick and said no when she asked me if I wanted any of the other stuff she was selling. I even told her all I wanted was a tape deck. She looked at me and said as some sort of defense, "You know I don't get commission, don't you?" As if that made all of her harassing acceptable.

I told her honestly, "I really don't care about any of that." When I told her the car it would be installed in was a 1988 Ford Escort, she did her best to not laugh at me.

Pay, pay, pay, pay. It's gotten to the point that actually going anywhere cost money. Bars charge covers, amusement parks want admission, restaurants and other businesses expect a purchase of some kind. I think libraries and parks may be the only places of free solitude any more.

Away, away, away, away. While my experience with the saleslady was the lousiest experience of the week, my best moment was almost the exact opposite. At eight o' clock on Monday night, a friend called me up to ask if I wanted to go to the Hot Springs in the Jemez Mountains. I went, and at eleven o'clock on the same Monday night, I floated in warm water and stared up at the stars through the trees with a half moon shining down on me. I dropped a couple bucks for gas, and seventy cents for a liter and a half of bottled water. No previews, no commercials, no salespeople, no admission fee, no hassles.

So, so, so, so. I know our economy is warm and fuzzy, but slapping a glossy, slick cover on everything doesn't make it better. It just means it's easier to wipe the shine off. The best things in the world still can't be bought, but the best crap can be. That's why people throw away most of their material items after a while to replace it with brand new crap. If you put a piece of shit in front of a baby, it will still get played with for a little while before the child wants a different piece.

What, what, what, what? What are you going to do about it though? Our country has become a place where adult entertainment means pornos, children's entertainment means Disney, the type of car you drive claims some sort of status, people are judged by clothing and hairstyles, law suits are a legitimate get-rich-quick scheme, and no one knows how to say anything because they don't have a real opinion. At least they have some cash to spend on crap to make life seem okay. Assholes.

Chris Jungle apologizes for the rectal region cussing, but that's where he wishes every salesperson would stick their head.

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