Meijer and Me
A juxtaposition against our electronic beep beep lives
We went into Meijer yesterday and never talked to a single human being. Our entire shopping experience was conducted by machine checkouts and massive isles. The hugeness of the place is so intimidating and awesome at the same time. So many things in one place, so few humans to bother you about your purchases. We are in the everything you want age; we are in the future.
Everyone is overweight and lazy and wants to gamble. At the Meijer there was a machine you could buy scratch cards on. On the radio they said they wanted to have online gambling so the state could have the revenue. In the future, nobody works, they just take turns taking out massive mortgages, refinancing on pretend money and declaring bankruptcy. It works beautifully and everybody’s happy and nobody loses, least of all the banks.
The banks are what make us human. The banks are what makes us breathe. The banks are our blood. We could never let them get spoiled with worries of solvency.
And so now we have big fat bailouts and the money just comes. First it was our turn to spend and borrow and spend some more and now it’s the government’s. Soon it will be ours again, soon we’ll have three cars again soon we’ll be able to buy unlimited plastic shit from China again, soon we’ll be all better again.
And the world will breathe a collective sigh of relief. We’ll go back to global warming and pollution and super bad corporations we love to hate but bank our retirements on. We’ll go back to our mean little overlords who keep us fat and dull with a bunch of really nice things. We’ll go back to being ourselves, the world will be saved, and crises will be averted.
Nobody knows this better than me, nobody is longing for equity markets to open up more than me. We can’t stay poor for long, the big cities can’t feel the pain for so long, because all that expertise will go elsewhere. We have a complicated financial system that should reward skill and intelligence and the ability to leverage mortgage bundles into infinity without a conscience.
We need some people with balls, we need people with big old balls so they can teabag the American public like the way the American public needs a big bad teabag.
Wall street is not at fault here. What’s at fault is all those people who thought they could buy homes, when everyone said buy homes damnit. Those people are morons, those people who thought they were entitled to homes. This may be the US and there may be isles of shit just sitting on shelves waiting for you to buy them and throw them away tomorrow, but damnit, you are not going to ever have a home. You are too lazy and your financial situation is unstable. You aren’t getting bailed out, either.
Houses and homes aren’t opinions, not everyone is entitled to them, not everyone gets to have one. Only the elite, only the best are entitled to homes in the US, only the ones who can flip a home in 24 hours while cheating on their wives and listening to Tony Robbins and running a marathon and thinking positive and using The Secret.
You are poor and you don’t have a home because you didn’t follow The Secret. Nothing’s impossible, everything is possible. You can have everything all at once and all right now just call right now. Just think happy thoughts and order now. You can pay later. You will pay later. You will always pay later. Keep paying. Keep praying.
Nothing ever comes, it’s always impossible to see where things go next. Crises are averted, the machine keeps going on, three trillion bajillion dollars later we all have financial stability and no debt and no healthcare. Keep running in circles, it’s your fault you had a baby, you moved, you got sick, you didn’t do your homework, and now you’ve got to pay the prices. Work late work now work tomorrow can you even get a job now? Keep buying. That will fix things.
The only ones who create value are the people at the top. Without them, we would be lost little sheep searching for a meaning, searching for a pain, searching for an emptiness. We must obey immediately and completely, and forever more. It’s the only way we can spare ourselves from beginning that horrid search. That horrid search that begins nowhere, goes inward to loneliness, and ends back where we started from.
So maybe the world is messed up and maybe it isn’t. Microsoft Word is running a virus scan against these words to make sure I’m not writing a virus within a Word document using only words. Maybe there is a virus here, maybe it’s a hidden one, maybe it makes us all sick, maybe it doesn’t matter.
Is that what keeps us at bay, keeps our heads buried in the sand? The idea that maybe it doesn’t matter scares us, that death lingers just ahead as a question mark, and it might be it and it might be nothing?
