Who Doesn't Love Shopping?!

I went to the mall yesterday- "The Mills" to be exact. M. wanted to pick up a few things that she couldn't get around town, and I figured I'd give her a ride out that way. She still doesn't relish driving on route 28, and I can understand why. We found the "right" entrance after driving more than 1/2 way around the megacomplex. This one-stop consumer architecture is arguably the least lovely design template that I've ever experienced. It's phenomenally bleak, and whenever I find myself going (and it's NEVER on my initiative), I always feel like I'm visiting an alien planet. I had an hour and forty minutes to spend once we got there, and for the first ten it was interesting from a sociological standpoint. Then I started sweating as if I was in a Baptist church.

There is so much wrong about the entire phenomenon that it's difficult to find the proper place to start a list. The name of this particular mall is insultingly ironic. Nothing you can buy at any of the stores was made in the region. As far as I know there were never any mills where this monstrosity is located. There's no industry involved. It's Henry Miller's Air Conditioned Nightmare run amok sixty years after the publication of that literary travelogue. No matter how the planners try to structure the experience, it can never have anything to do with community. At "The Mills" they break down the retail into "neighborhoods", as if the polished floors were modeled after the city itself. But they even fuck that up- the numbers didn't seem to me to go in order... or perhaps I had already started hallucinated by the time I began to pay attention.

All I really wanted was a belt. My pants have all developed an inconvenient propensity to fall off my hips when I walk, which is problematic in most of my routine circumstances. After 45 minutes I found somewhere to make the purchase. Then I just walked around the uni-level square that I guess is meant to evoke an attitude of stupor-induced impulsive desire. I made a point to find the stores that best represent the state of our society. My pick is Flag World, where you can buy several different versions of "Old Glory". It's a bit shocking that it's still in business seven-and-a-half years after 9-11. I don't know if they are intentionally manufactured to attain material obsolescence every year or two, but it would seem that anyone in the market for a flag has already made the plunge.

I decided I wanted to indulge in nostalgia, and searched for an Orange Julius. Instead I settled for a "fruit smoothie" that had very little in it other than sugar and dairy substitute. I suppose that's not much different from my original target, but it wasn't very Juli-icious. I should have just bought Starbucks. As if to underscore my essential feeling of dislocation, I couldn't even find a drug store to buy cigarettes. I'm usually prepared, but I didn't anticipate going to the mall this afternoon. I thought I might stop at the fancy smoke shop to buy some Gauloises, but the lady at the counter (who spoke with a European accent, for fuck's sake) didn't even know what I was talking about. And I wasn't going to pay $6.50 for Camels.

The toy store was kind of cool. I'll admit that. I found a box of oil crayons for about $5. There was also a men's clothing store that had a tempting purple velvet smoking jacket at a huge markdown, but I resisted my urge to buy indiscriminately. I can only hope I don't have dreams about it that force me to come back later on this week. Still the vast majority of product at The Mills is stuff that I can't ever imagine wanting. Maybe I'll start making bank and shop at the Amish furniture store (inconveniently closed on Sundays). Or perhaps I'll get brain damage in an accident and lose my aesthetic sense, and start coveting some Thomas Kinkade paintings. Who knows? I could even develop a taste for plastic fruit smoothies. I might even feel more American.

Fun-and-games at the Grocery Store.

M. has decided that it's a big help for me to accompany her and Baby E. when they go to the grocery store. It just so happened that this past Saturday's weather forecast seemed to suggest treacherous road conditions, and cabin fever looked to be a distinct possibility. Ordinarily I would have no interest in going to the local strip mall during a weekend afternoon, but I knew that it made sense in our circumscribed world. We bundled up the tyke and set off, me driving at about half the speed I would normally attain due to passengers and ice. Naturally there was a hint of slip on the road and people were already driving like idiots. I don't get drivers who think panic makes them more adept behind the wheel.

When we got to the store I realized that everyone had anticipated the types of difficulties that we had. Perhaps the weather forecast is sponsored by Giant Eagle (I really don't know). There were a lot of folks in the aisles that seemed as oblivious as they probably had been on the streets outside. I'll be forthcoming and admit that whatever attitude I had when I walked through the sliding automatic doors was accentuated by the fact that I had only slept about four hours. I quickly made an executive decision to follow M. around blindly and not try to make any tough decisions. Through hindsight I have determined that this was wise. I would have been completely dazed and over-stimulated otherwise.

My main objective was to find a way to make the trip fun for E. and I. The first thing I focused on was his vocalizations. For some reason, he was especially happy I was along. He kept beaming up at me from his metal bench at the front of the cart. I guess he wanted to let me know about his good mood, as he was shouting out some funny stuff of his own devise. So I thought it was only right to return the favor at an enhanced volume. Perhaps it annoyed some particularly stressed patrons. If so i wasn't aware of it, and I wouldn't have cared regardless. In my condition I felt like E. was speaking my language, and I wanted to make sure there was a dialogue. I know that he appreciated it because we both got progressively louder.

Then I realized that certain customers were actually paying attention to us. Of course I had to start clowning around. In an exaggeratedly solicitous voice I kept asking E. what kind of dog food he wanted. I explained to him that the nuances of flavored mixes, and that he might prefer something with fish in it. Again I knew that he was entertained because he was laughing maniacally by that point. Meanwhile we started getting some strange stares from people. I pointedly asked him if we were all out of Robitussin, and if he had finished the last of it, as I had been too blitzed the night before to remember. The exchange was especially amusing because he had a prominent bruise on his head from daycare that was easy to notice.

Having scandalized the joint already, I decided to mimic stealing stuff off the shelves, hoping E. would take my cue. I even took off his mittens to facilitate the learning process. He was all kicked back with a gangster lean, hand dangling innocuously over the side. We went through the cookie aisle several times. E.'s got the kind of face that makes others love him almost immediately, so our developing scam is especially effective. I just have to figure out how to identify my favorite products for him, and he needs to learn how to hide the more valuable items where no one will look. I figure that we have plenty of time to work on the act. He'll get more wily as he continues to grow into his cuteness. He does indeed make the supermarket fun.

A Failure of Compassion.

This is the time of year to think about the better qualities of humanity, such as charity and compassion. The problem is that some of us tend to get pretty depressed when we make an objective assessment of ourselves regarding these traits. I have extended family that I would rate very high on these factors. They are conscientious people who make significant efforts to consider the plights of those less fortunate than them. They organize benefits to address social ills, and invite people to their houses to participate in doing something good. These affairs not only bring local folks together, but they also contribute to meeting the vast needs of the poor and downtrodden. Mostly I admire them for doing something to help.

With Christmas coming, my in-laws are now trying to rethink traditions. Every year we have a gift exchange, and each person goes home with something that someone else brought. We set a money limit and even run a concurrent gag trade. This is not an uncommon practice, and saves us from having to buy presents for each individual separately. It also gives us something to do on the 24th of December. But this time around, my sister-in-law came up with an alternative suggestion. She sent out an e-mail documenting some of the terrible conditions that others face in third world countries. Her idea was that we skip the exchange this year, and donate the money we would have spent to the charity of our choice.

Obviously the birth of Christ should be celebrated with actions that run deeper than a consumerist orgy of spending. If we were truly honest in our faith and respect for the Son-of-God, we might strive to follow his philosophy and give to the less unfortunate. However this threatens to take the fun out of Xmas. Let's face it- we get a charge from taking home luxury items that we didn't buy ourselves, especially when we didn't even ask for them. Why would we give up these time-honored activities? Sure, there are people starving somewhere, but is that our problem? Don't we have enough to concern ourselves with during this period of economic downturn? Don't we have a responsibility to go out and shop in order to "save our nation"?

I'll freely admit that I'm not particularly charitable. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about the destitute and disease-afflicted in far flung lands. I won't even give pocket change to homeless Americans nowadays. At some level my perspective can be distilled to "better them than me". I'm not proud of that, yet I can't defend self-deception. I've said it before and I'll repeat it... humans aren't that special. They have no innate right to survival at the expense of other living creatures. And we perpetuate our survival by exploiting the Earth and all of its inhabitants. That's just the way it is. If I participate in sending food to a region that can't support its current population, who exactly am I serving?

And yet... my lack of so-called "humanity" occasionally gnaws at me. That's why, against my better instincts, I never bitch about paying taxes. I realize that a lot of that money goes into the pockets of corrupt and greedy politicians, and more of it feeds monolithic corporate interests, but at least there's a minimal amount being diverted to assist fellow citizens. I'm glad that there are people willing to sacrifice their time, resources, and energy to improve the lives of others. That type of self-abnegation is truly noble. I'm not going to fool myself- if I wasn't forced into this secular tithing (or is it more appropriately trithing?), I'd be more than happy to sock that money away. But when it comes to the holidays, I'm more likely to defend the status quo.

Why I Had to Watch "Blades of Glory", and Will Look Upon My Friends' Recommendations as Forever Suspect From Now On.

So my birthday was last week, and I met up with a couple of friends* a few days later. They are well aware of my disdain for Hollywood comedies, and they continue to insist that I'm missing out by not giving in to the charms of their favorites. I meanwhile remain steadfastly committed to avoid wasting my time. But my pals are insidious and manipulative. Knowing that I'd be obligated to watch if they slipped it in with the original art they blessed me with, they included a copy of Blades of Glory in my gift bag. I was honestly crestfallen and immediately resigned to viewing this dreck. And I promised that I'd review the thing on my blog. Well, here it is folks. I can only hope that by giving in I have finally earned the right not to be subjected to this crap in the future.

There was trouble right off the bat, as soon as I popped the DVD in. The previews were all CGI, explosions, and kiddie films. Nothing I'd ever be tempted to see. I understood immediately that the intended demographic was the group of regressed adults who would be excited by a live action version of Transformers, presented through the filters of Michael Bay. I'm talking about the type of audience that considers Shrek a multi-layered viewing experience. There was even a promo for a Will Ferrell mega-pack, the consumption of which looked akin to being subjected to waterboarding. Trailers are supposed to contain the funniest bits of the movies they promote, right? You'd think after making six (or so) flicks that Ferrell could cobble together three minutes of diverting highlights. But you'd be wrong.

The next red flag was the revelation that Blades of Glory was released under the MTV Films imprint. Uh-oh. And produced by Ben Stiller. It figures. Then within the first six minutes the viewer is assaulted with totally arbitrary product placements for Bud Lite and Skittles. There's the clichéd setup to launch the story- we get to see one half of the stellar comic duo (played by Jon Heder) as the golden haired effeminate orphan (named Jimmie MacElroy) being targeted for future stardom. That's the character development- a series of mildly amusing set pieces delivered in a few brief minutes. The filmmakers don't want to lose the audience with any depth. Then flash-forward to MacElroy's present success, and introduce the ridiculous black-and-white "conflict". We meet the hypermasculine Yang to Jimmnie's Ying- Chazz Michael Michaels, who's portrayed by Will Ferrell in his inimitably wry style. Oh yeah... and there's a Capri Sun ad at 14 minutes, just as we are bludgeoned with foreshadowing indicating that Heder and Farrell will eventually become a (gasp!) same-sex figure skating pair.

You might think that all of the crass marketing is merely incidental. After all, folks do consume the products that appear on screen. Maybe it's just a coincidence that the paid sponsors all have their products featured with their labels clearly centered and inescapable. When Ferrell breaks that bottle of Captain Morgan, it might be just a lucky break for the corporate powers that the glass shatters immediately above the clearly identifiable sticker. Yet later there's a scene with Jimmie working in a sporting goods store, and throughout the run of it not a single brand name is shown. Not one. Apparently those companies didn't pay to play. When was the last time you were at a sporting goods store? In case it's been awhile, I'll remind you that the manufacturers' logos are EVERYWHERE. Same goes when our heroes eat out at a fast food joint. I've never been at a single one that didn't have every wall plastered with ads. Maybe they have no sense of humor either.

Anyway, I'm not going to get into the merits of the story or the writing. I've already offended fans of this movie. There's everything I expected- juvenile surface humor and inane physical gags. I had a hard time seeing it through. But I have to say that I am more troubled than I expected to be after watching it. Perhaps there's nothing particularly devious about the encouragement of rampant consumerism. Still, movie-watchers are paying to see these feature length commercials. Make no mistake- in between the sophomoric jokes and the homoeroticism, Blades of Glory is pushing product.

While the easily amused are yucking it up, these messages enter their subconscious. Obviously they want you to buy their shit, just as the film's producers believe you will buy into their canned jokes. The state of laughter makes the viewer particularly open to suggestion. Nationwide, Trojan, XBox, Dunkin Donuts, Crest White Strips, Subway, Orbitz... these are paraded before our eyes throughout the movie, with no pretext of naturalism and very little appropriate relationship to the story. I guess I should just be thankful that I didn't laugh.


*Please note that I have chosen to protect the identities of those involved.

Biting Off a Thick Chunk of Obvious.

Indulgence is a strange thing. It has addictive properties that sneak up on you, especially if you grow up with means in the United States. In third world nations citizens rarely get to indulge themselves- so it's likely such a practice would be entirely a conscious decision. You'd have to save up for weeks for something that we in America take for granted. Certainly you wouldn't have to worry about becoming addicted. To actually get addicted to one of the things we use too much of, it would require effort similar to holding down a full-time job. The problem is that much of the world's population already has to work overtime just to acquire the basic necessities. Even then they often fall short.

So what sort of things do our citizens overindulge in? Well, we definitely use more than our share of the world's nonrenewable energy resources. If you spend five minutes on the net, you can find some reasonable estimates. We make up about 3% of the Earth's population, and use about 25% of the energy. That shouldn't be a surprise. Take a jaunt on the US Highway system, and head out to the exurbs. You'll see that a majority of the vehicles on the road are minivans and SUV's. Many of these drivers will justify their extravagance by explaining that they want to keep their kids safe. Even if you do an analysis of the safety ratings, and their particular model performs well- it's beside the point. Because 9 out of 10 drivers that you pass are riding alone.

Of course we find ways of wasting energy at home too. We leave lights on in rooms we aren't currently occupying. The television emits its mind-numbing waves even as we fall asleep on the couch. In Winter we heat our homes all day, even at the times when everyone is at work or school. Folks turn on their central A/C as soon as the first drops of sweat bead at the crests of their brows. People get in their cars and drive 300 yards to the corner store. And other energy-consuming resources get wasted as well. Homeowners water their lawns, and then expend more electric units mowing them. Food is prepared one portion at a time, and packaged in layers of plastic and cardboard. Most of the food itself is made from corn- the most inefficient crop there is.

We also divert our resources into meaningless contests of sport. Instead of participating directly, we do so from at least one remove. This is merely another indulgence. If sports aren't our thing, we while away our leisure hours shopping for unnecessary items. There must surely be more collectors in the US than in any other country. We collect everything- sports memorabilia, porcelain trinkets, guns, holiday decorations, fashions, video games, dolls, trophies... pretty much anything we can stow in our cars and fit in our living spaces. Sometimes we even exceed our physical limitations, and rent lockers or other storage capacity for the overflow. Imagine how all of this excess is perceived abroad.

Or don't worry about it. Because that's another one of our indulgences. We have an infinite amount of justifications for our greed. In fact we are told that "greed is good". Consumption is next to Godliness. It's the American Way. This sounds like satire, but it's difficult to overstate the role that indulgence plays in our society. Consider this with me as I try to digest the donuts, corn chips, Coca-Cola, meat sticks, fried chicken and buffalo chicken dip I consumed today (before noon)- if we stop indulging ourselves our economy will enter a crisis. Capitalism requires perpetual growth, which requires increased consumption. No wonder concepts like 'sustainability' are so roundly rejected. It is indeed a threat to the system. Quit thinking about it.

What is a "Progressive" ?

I suspect that many people who characterize themselves as 'liberals' tend to have a more positive sense of humanity than others. Perhaps they believe that there is an innate sense of good in most people that will surely come out if it can only be nurtured. That's why they are always proposing legislation based in a deep compassion for the disadvantaged. Hungry people should be fed. Ignorant folks should be educated. The sick should be healed. If nothing else, it's a tremendously noble perspective. Life is not only about personal prosperity, but also about the well-being of the least among us. To suggest that one should only act to advance his/her own self-interest is anathema to liberals.

I'll confess to having the tiniest bit of vulnerability to this way of thinking. It's like the merest hint of conscience gnawing away at me from the back of my brain. I don't feel it in my heart or in my stomach. But I am aware of its existence. Truth be told I actively submerge it in day-to-day life, and it's not that difficult to do. When a stranger asks me for something, it's not hard for me to blow them off and justify the snub in one manner or another. When I was in college I was a bit of a 'bleeding heart' for a month or two, and I felt taken advantage of pretty regularly by the manipulative and duplicitous. So I don't lose very much sleep over denying beggars in the street. I don't actively contemplate the diseased and the weary.

It's true. No matter what some may think, I am assuredly not a 'liberal'. I'm pro death-penalty and against a welfare system that encourages its recipients to procreate. I'm ok with gun ownership and private property. However, don't insult me by calling me a 'Conservative'. In this day and age, there's not a lot worse you can say to me. As far as I'm concerned, that whole lot is exceedingly selfish, reactionary, and close-minded. They want to legislate morality, yet they refuse to assume personal responsibility for the problems of society. They fight abortion and birth control, yet have no plan to counter overpopulation. They stumble about, puking out phrases like "laissez faire capitalism" and "free markets", as if they were vital components of a new American religion. Quite simply I am sickened by all of that nonsense.

Where does this leave me? If I'm not 'red' or 'blue', then what exactly am I? Despite the inherent problems with the phraseology, I guess I'd have to classify myself as a "progressive". And I hate that word almost as much as the other labels. I reject the fundamental notion of 'progress'. Many of the things classified under this banner have been manifestly bad for life on Earth. Suburban developments, agribusiness, SUV's, expansion, sprawl, aggressive militarism, rampant consumerism, working overtime, corporate welfare, etc.- I question the classification of these 'advancements'. It's a tricky notion to precisely describe my politics. When I call myself a "progressive", I'm speaking in the old sense of the word.

Progressives reject ideology and dogma. They recognize these forces as antithetical to civil discourse. They solve problems by studying the environment in which they occur, identifying root causes, and attempting to develop plans to correct their root causes. This isn't a theoretical approach to society. It's essentially pragmatic. Progressive priorities include minimizing government corruption, regulating corporations, protecting the environment, and improving health care and education. This means that, while I don't want to see the government spending inefficiently, I do not bitch about having to pay my taxes. I recognize myself as an individual, as a member of the human race, and as a partner in the stewardship of the planet. Finding the balance between these affiliations is often difficult, but it's ultimately necessary.

Tissue-Cultured Meat. Yum!

Occasionally science provides a potential solution to a problem that is so ludicrous that it ends up being of very little practical value. On NPR the other day, they suggested that the inconveniences arising from a household with both vegetarians and carnivores could possibly be solved in the near future. I want to be quite clear in stating upfront that this isn't a pressing issue for most of society. Yes, it is a bit of a shame that M. and I can't share more meals together- but it's hardly cause for too much concern. Sometimes we find ourselves colliding in the kitchen, while we both try to make our separate meals. To date this has yet to cause a serious injury. We also do our grocery shopping separately. This eliminates a lot of potential bickering about selections.

So what has science come up with to address this 'crisis' in mismatched diners? Tissue-cultured meat! Even the sound of it is a bit grotesque. Yes, we are talking about lab-grown meat. Despite the obvious aesthetic problems suggested by such a concept, the idea (as NPR helpfully pointed out) has been around for awhile. Winston Churchill is notable for having said a lot of memorable things, yet he's not known for his gastronomic expertise. In 1932 he said, "We shall escape the absurdity of growing a whole chicken in order to eat the breast or wing, by growing these parts separately under a suitable medium." Apparently a man named Alexis Carrel had been keeping a piece of chicken heart tissue alive for twenty years by the time Winston became a food critic.

It's natural to wonder how meat is created without the beast itself. Evidently it is not as simple as taking a skin cell from an animal, and placing it within a solution of nutrients. It turns out that meat is a complex combination of different types of fat and muscle cells. At least one researcher is getting close- Vladmir Mironov, a biologist in South Carolina is trying to figure out a way to make his artificial squares of meat into a commercially-viable product. The problem is that something this texture-less and formless is a bit of a 'hard sell'. Items like SPAM and other types of 'canned meat' became fodder for comedians everywhere, and that stuff is actually purported to come from a living creature we would recognize.

Certainly the biggest proponents of "tissue-cultured" meat are the animal rights organizations that decry the consumption of animals under any conditions. Last month PETA offered one million dollars to anyone able to create and market "in-vitro" (test tube) chicken meat. The condition is that it must be made and sold to the public by 2012. Not only that, but PETA stipulates that it must be sold at a "competitive price" in at least ten states. Oh yeah... it also has to be indistinguishable in taste and texture from chicken flesh ("to non-meat-eaters and meat-eaters alike"). What I'd like to know is who they are going to get to judge this stuff, let alone sell it. The vegetarians I know would be appalled at the idea.

In fact the greatest obstacle to this invention is that no one really wants it. Perhaps it's going to take drastic changes in our environment to make the concept of "tissue-cultured meat" more palatable. Maybe there are plenty of willing mouths in war-torn Africa. But here in America we still have a choice. Meat eaters are pretty conventional people- they are going to be innately suspicious of anything "weird" happening to their food. It may be cut into a square and placed on a 'fortified' bun, but it better be from a damn cow... and not a cow-like substance. And on the other side of the equation, animal lovers are still going to be reminded of the idea of 'sentient being'-flesh. They'll likely stick with their tofu.

Sophy Burnham, "The Art Crowd" (1973).

When I first started showing my work a few years ago, the last thing I thought I'd be mulling over was the 'business of art'. Like many people of ordinary, late 20th Century, middle class backgrounds, I had a naive sense that the pursuit of art was somehow transcendent. The truth is that everything in the United States is vulnerable to the processes of commodification. The day you decide to exhibit your artwork is the beginning of a drastic re-imagining of what it means to participate in the 'art world'. Whether or not you are showing your work with the intent to sell, someone is going to inevitably bring up that possibility. The reason for this is the cost of space. Every parcel of land, and every wall within has been demarcated as property. Whether or not you have a specific proprietary interest is beside the point.

To tell you the truth, I am fascinated with the idea of art as part of the marketplace. Art is so inherently subjective that putting a value on it is largely a subjective enterprise. Ultimately a piece is worth what someone will pay for it, and in that respect it differs little from any other product we might buy or sell. But where did the rules come from? How did the market for art develop? Certainly we'd need an exhaustive historical study just to get close to coming up with a basic answer. However, here in America we can get some idea of its development by looking at the art scene in New York during the post WW II era. It was during this period that contemporary art was introduced as a viable economic investment. That fundamentally altered the way that things were done.

For as significant a change in the cultural landscape as it was, the emergence of contemporary art speculation was characterized by an inordinate amount of mystification. To a large extent it still is. Try to find a body of literature that explains the forces behind art market valuation in layman's terms- its rather difficult. I found an obscure book written in 1973 by Sophy Burnham that seemed to offer some basic insight into the phenomenon. The Art Crowd focuses on the various forces that combine to attribute monetary value to modern art. Burnham takes us on a journey that introduces us to artists, museum directors, collectors, dealers and the all powerful institutional trustees. She identifies the internal workings of the marketplace and describes how the various principals interact with each other.

Along the way our guide includes the results of a series of interviews she conducted with the movers-and-shakers of the art world elite. It is remarkable how incestuous these circles are. This is a comparatively small milieu, and key individuals have a disproportionate amount of power to determine which artists become 'successful', and which among them languish in perpetual obscurity. There are a lot of dual relationships, with the same men and women curating works from the very artists that represent the bulk of their collections. It doesn't take much scratching to reveal the extent of unethical behavior beneath the sophisticated veneer of this 'Art Crowd'. Critics accept gifts from artists that they review. Museums receive deep discounts from dealers looking to increase the profile of their respective stables. And trustees use their connections for influence and profit.

It wouldn't take much for a reader to become quickly disenchanted with the the idea of purchasing art. That's probably why this title has such a low profile. Burnham herself seems to have been discouraged from further exploration. A quick internet search reveled that the author now identifies herself as a 'Medium' and practitioner of Reiki. Maybe she divined something so rotten at the core of The Art Crowd that she permanently disengaged from it. But the book is an interesting snapshot into the way things were done during a pivotal point in the evolution of the contemporary arts scene. I don't think it's a stretch to believe that much of the current situation remains the same. The faces and names may change, yet the actual machinations that propel the scene continue to be enigmatic to outsiders.

The Prosperity Gospel Movement.

With all of the recent critical attention directed to Reverend Jeremiah Wright and Chicago's Trinity Church, the subject of African-American traditions of Christianity is increasingly in the news. Wright practices Black Liberation Theology, which aims to incorporate the empowerment of black people into religious practice. Political pundits are very much aware that this type of thing frightens many white people in America's 'heartland', and have decided to attack Senator Barack Obama's presidential campaign by associating him with 'the movement'. Of course it is an extremely cynical strategy. It's not altogether clear that Obama would be in the least affected by his church affiliations. But the conservatives have to find a way to bring race into the election, and this is the best opportunity they have found to do it.

While it is certainly a circus sideshow of an issue, it has given some media outlets a chance to report on the different types of black churches throughout the nation. Traditionally houses of worship were the most obvious places for African-Americans to organize their activities, and hear messages about equal rights. While religion and politics are increasingly mixed throughout our society, it has aways been that way in the 'Black Community'. But it turns out that Black Liberation Theology is only one segment of the larger phenomena. And it also so happens that there is a group of Black Christians that seem to be diametrically opposed to BLT on the political scale. The folks preaching this defiantly oppositional Word are coming from the perspective of the "Prosperity Gospel".

This relatively new wave within Black Christianity is concerned with individual achievement, rather than elevating 'the masses'. Prosperity theology suggests that authentic religious belief will result in material riches for the believer. The faithful, according to this doctrine, can expect to be financially rewarded for being good Christians. Apparently the biblical authority for this idea is to be found in Deuteronomy 8:10 ("But you shall remember the LORD your God, for it is He who is giving you power to make wealth, that He may confirm His covenant which He swore to your fathers, as it is this day"). The Prosperity Gospel is most often associated with charismatic or Pentecostal traditions. But it contains not-so-subtle themes that have been part of American Christian thought since the 'Protestant Work Ethic' was first promoted as a wealth-building approach.

By no means is the Prosperity Gospel limited to black churches. In fact, many white preachers and televangelists (especially in the Word of Faith Movement) have been pimping the idea of material salvation for years. Pat Robertson is a big fan of it- he often refers to the "law of reciprocity". Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker (with their PTL Club) were huge proponents as well. Still a number of black preachers, including such luminaries as P.D. Jakes and Creflo Dollar, are getting into the act as well. They are aware that the message of prosperity will be alluring to people who have been disadvantaged for generations. Many African-Americans have given up looking for worldly forces that might help them out of their desperate situations. If they are mired in poverty in a nation of super abundance, then maybe they haven't been holy enough.

Naturally preachers of the "Prosperity Gospel" are ready with their justifications. They often claim that money is necessary for the promotion of their mission. Yet it's somehow difficult to figure out how luxury cars, phat houses, and plenty of bling help spread the story of Christ. A convincing case can be made that Jesus would disapprove of the whole setup. Still, in a society where Capital is next to Godliness, Prosperity Theology is falling on a lot of inviting ears. Who wouldn't like a religious excuse to hoard wealth and resist paying taxes? "God gave me my wealth, and no one can take it away!" This is tailor-made for Republicans and other suburbanites. If the Blacks are willing to quit thinking about injustice and prejudice, then I'm sure they are welcome to play along. As long as they don't ask for help from their Christian brothers on Earth, then they can expect a happy embrace.

Who was Mark Kostabi?

Given that I live in Andy Warhol's home town, I am privy to much discussion about his value as an artist. Before I ever visited his museum I was convinced that he was a complete charlatan. After all, the guy got famous from painting soup cans and making large silkscreens of Mao Tse-Tung. However my opinions about modern art were unqualified. I wasn't accustomed to looking behind the image itself for the conceptual framework of art. While some iconoclasts will insist that none of that matters, I have since learned to appreciate it as an essential part of the work. Otherwise it's all just "pretty pictures". What makes art serious is its contribution to a discourse that has been progressing throughout the centuries. Sure, you could have painted Campbell's Tomato Soup- but you didn't, and that's an important distinction.

When I read more about Warhol, I could understand why even knowledgeable critics sometimes slagged him. Perhaps the biggest knock against him as a fine artist is that he let others do much of his work for him. Yet this process itself is an integral part of what made Warhol such an innovative artist. His "Factory" reflected an essential component of our society. In and of itself, it was a trenchant commentary about modern life, a la Capitalist consumerism. And he was far from a one-trick pony. Not only did he forever redefine what was "fair game" as subject matter, but he also changed the contemporary approach to advertising, entertainment and public relations. He was one of the first artists to die filthy rich, and he changed the cultural dialog forever. How's that for making an impact?

The downside of Warhol's legacy is that he left us with imitators that have proven themselves to be singularly annoying. An illustrative example would be Mark Kostabi. Until I read Andy Behrman's Electroboy this past week, I had never even heard of Kostabi. Behrman once worked for the "artist" as a public relations manager and salesman. Later he was accused and convicted of selling forged Kostabi works in Japan and Germany. The problem with his conviction was that it was very difficult to tell what an "authentic" Kostabi would look like. Certainly one could say that his paintings were shallow ripoffs of early surrealist painter Giorgio de Chirico. The colors, background and (most glaringly) faceless subjects directly copied the Greek-Italian master. But beyond that, Kostabi's skills as an artist were impossible to evaluate.

Kostabi World (as the large studio the artist inhabited was called) employed shifts of painters who toiled for minimum wage. These anonymous artisans came up with the ideas, applied the colors to the canvas, and waited for their employer to sign each piece in turn. With this assembly line approach to creativity, 100's of works were completed and turned out every year. They shared a cold, derivative and generic quality that seemed to appropriately match the social-climbing aspirations of mid-80's Manhattan. Yet they weren't confined to the gallery. In order to meet the company goals ("a Kostabi on every house"), the product was placed in malls throughout the country. The "artist" himself would make a series of national tours in order to promote the work.

To his credit, Kostabi once billed himself as the ultimate "con artist". Although expressing a certain amount of hubris, this statement at least honestly portrayed Kostabi's relationship with his collectors. However, he might have driven the knife a bit too deep when he publicly proclaimed that only "suckers" bought his work. Certainly there were a lot of them caught up in the 80's arts scene, and they made Kostabi a very rich man. Perhaps that's why he never came up with a "second act". Whatever amount of cleverness he had once harbored was quickly exhausted. Somehow he successfully ascended the New York art world with a series of publicity stunts and a butt-load of mediocre (yet controversial) work. He insulated himself from immense amounts of negative critical attention by insisting that all that mattered was his wealth. Kostabi was a pale and rehashed Warhol without the conceptual context or artistic ability.

Kalle Lasn, "Culture Jam" (1999).

Generally I don't seek out book recommendations from 14-year olds. While they may be tuned in to some pretty cool things, I just assume that their appreciation for whatever cultural objects they prefer is relative to their stage in life. Still it's probably a bit limiting for me to take that viewpoint, so if I think a kid is especially evolved and I know that he/she enjoys other things that I like- then I figure it might be worth a try. That's how I ended up with a copy of Kalle Lasn's Culture Jam. It's basically a screed against the consumer culture of the United States, and a manifesto suggesting ways to undermine it. The title refers to any action which seeks to disrupt the prevalent mentality of the society.

Lasn was born in Estonia, and hopped around quite a bit before finding himself quartered in Vancouver, British Columbia. At that point in his life he was working as a documentary filmmaker. He became interested in forest management, and decided to make a short film about an advertising campaign that was being promoted by the lumber industry. After completing the work, Lasn discovered that Canadian television stations would never show his work. Apparently he had yet to realize the influence advertisers have over the media, because this rejection inspired him to start Adbusters Magazine. Lasn then undertook a series of ventures intended to fight against corporate power.

Culture Jam is divided into four sections, each corresponding to a season. Lasn's conceit is that the process of 'culture jamming' will inevitably lead to a nationwide revolution. But first he needs to make the case that a problem exists with the current paradigm. This should not be a difficult task, given the state of the country. The truth is that there have been so many books and films that have sought to outline the damage done by unscrupulous corporations. One would have to be daft not to recognize the power corporations wield throughout the United States and the world. Still, in the face of such overwhelming influence, what exactly does Lasn think "culture jammer" activists can do?

Lasn recommends that people take whatever steps they can to resist the corporate state. He tells the story of how he experienced an epiphany in a grocery store parking lot, and proceeded to jam the coin slot of a gate releasing shopping carts for customer use. Somehow he felt that he was making a difference with this small gesture. Lasn suggests that people ought to refuse to give in to company procedures and policies during phone conversations regarding problems with products and services. He even goes so far as to prod vandals to deface billboards, which encroach on our "mental environment". Other ideas Lasn presents require large sums of money. He encourages ordinary citizens to buy 30-second advertising spots on television, in order to air "anti-marketing" messages. If station managers refuse to air them, Lasn says that we should alert the press.

Unfortunately there is very little in Culture Jam that strikes me as particularly useful in a potential confrontation with corporate culture. He provides a general outline that traces the evolution of the concept of "corporations" from 17th Century England to the present day. It's a section that provides information that should be well known to anybody who has devoted even a minimum of time to the subject at hand. And he touches on the situationist philosophy of Guy Debord, which lends a historical sheen to his efforts. Yet Lasn ultimately fails to convince the reader that his anti-consumer movement has anything to offer other than generalities and enthusiasm. This book could certainly be of some use to an adolescent trying to re-envision his/her place within society, but I can't recommend it for anyone who has already identified the basic problems that we face.

Bon Appetit!

Having a brand new kid has made me reconsider a lot of life choices that I have been taking for granted for many years. I suppose it's only natural to second guess myself now that my decisions more directly affect someone else. While it's not so crucial that I make hard-and-fast, life-changing judgments immediately, it seems appropriate that I initiate some basic considerations. There are many areas of my life that reflect values I have held consistently and consciously for a long time. But other habits have developed as a result of perceived necessity, fleeting preference, and/or convenience. When it comes to eating, my behavior has been influenced by all three of those factors.

It strikes some of my friends as odd that I should be so particular about "consuming" certain things (books, films, music), yet when it comes to food I am rather indiscriminate. I have often admitted that I have an extremely unsophisticated palette. At home I make very few meals. I do sandwiches, spaghetti, or some basic version of quesadillas. That's really about it. If I want something different, I generally have to go out to some sort of restaurant or order for delivery. I've only had those options on a regular basis for the last decade or so, due to financial constraints before that. Because of these long-lasting limitations, it should probably be no surprise that I stick to the conventional offerings.

The problem with all of this is that the typical American diet is unwholesome, and a bit gross. This is a meat-and-potatoes nation, and even those standards are usually cooked in an extremely unhealthy manner. Just about everything is fried. The United States loves its french fries, wings, onion rings, cheese sticks, burgers, donuts, eggs, fried chicken, and cheese steaks. Hell, this is the only nation where one could reasonable expect someone to develop a fried OREO. And if it's not fried, then it's invariably smothered in grease and oil, filled with sugar, or jammed into pockets of fat. I think I read somewhere that three-quarters of the menu offerings in every eatery in the US are virtually identical. If it's not true, it sure seems like it. The vast majority of what we eat is a corn byproduct.

I would think that the situation outside the home closely mirrors what's happening in private kitchens across the country. Generally businesses cater to the lowest common denominator. What else are "the people" eating? Another indicator of the unfortunate state of our national cuisine is the typical public school lunch menu. If you haven't visited your local school lately, you would be stunned to see what the government allows cafeterias to feed the kids. How about mini corn dogs, nachos w/cheese, fruit cup, and 2% milk? Sound pretty nutritious to you? OK then, try ribbie sandwich, chips, baby carrots, and chocolate milk? They usually just put "cook's choice" on the schedule when they serve up stuff like this. It's better public relations. And believe me, whatever it looks like on paper... it's different when it's resting there in slabs on the little styrofoam tray.

To make matters worse- this stuff is invariably the lowest quality product from an uncaring, mechanized, nationwide, corporate agribusiness industry. It is engineered to meet the basic standards of a national government board for the absolute minimum cost. I don't know all of the ins and outs of the policy procedures for mandated nutrition, but I can say without reservation that the system is broken. Not long ago a huge amount of ground beef was judged by the USDA to be substandard, and was belatedly recalled. Much of that meat originally found its way into the nation's school lunchrooms. It was consumed by children. I don't know why the American public tolerates such a disgrace. The youth are being trained to eat offal. I wonder who will be held responsible. I guess we'll be packing lunches for Baby E.

Dead-End Passions.

The more I get into the Ann Powers book I referenced in my previous post, the more I relate to the themes it presents. There's an entire chapter that examines the work-related attitudes of the self-identified bohemians of my generation. Months ago I wrote about this particular aspect of my life, but the subject is worth revisiting. Assuming that I fit into the specific sub-class of people that Powers wrote about, the reader can assume a few specific things about me. I am interested in the arts- a broad category of endeavor in which it is nearly impossible to make a living. If you have a child, and you are not sure whether to push them toward a career in professional sports or the arts, you should choose the former. The odds are long for monetary success in either field, but there are more slots available on the major league teams than there are in collections of contemporary art.

So if you (like me) grew up with dreams of becoming an art-star or rock-and-roll-hero, you have most likely found yourself in a series of unfulfilling jobs for a significant period of your life. By the very definition of the term, a bohemian is likely to reject the conventional assumptions of his/her society. There's a fundamental belief that everything can be commodified and its value set in terms of US currency. If an activity doesn't lend itself to this type of valuation, then its worth is necessarily minimized. We are taught that the strength of our nation depends on our participation as active consumers. We are told that we can only be truly fulfilled by the status and comfort conferred on us by the pursuit of materialism. These are ideas that are actively challenged by participants and followers of the arts. In fact many artists and musicians invert the priorities of their fellow countrymen.

Still, everyone has to meet the basic requirements of life. If we can't find anyone to pay for the art we make, we must find another method of acquiring the money necessary for food, shelter and clothing. As we become self-sufficient and examine the available options, we feel discouraged and limited. Powers points out that many bohemes gravitate to whatever consumer endpoint most closely approximates their individual passions. So if one aspires to be a musician, he/she often finds him/herself working as a cashier at the local 'Record Mart'. Would-be authors become clerks at the bookselling superstores. A visual artist might similarly attain employment at an art supply chain. While these folks certainly don't gain the satisfaction of getting to sell their own work, at least they can console themselves by being in the presence of the mass product of their chosen medium.

Unfortunately the cynicism produced by this kind of situation can be soul-crushing. Imagine the avant-garde jazz guitar player who spends his time stocking the shelves with the best-selling CD's of Michael Bolton or Toby Keith. Watch his deep frustration as he directs the next consumer to the new Kenny G. album. See him frown as he listens once again to the hottest Brittany Spears hit on the store's stereo system. He wastes all of his vast reserves of music expertise, while he waits for the 2% of customers who either have decent tastes or an open-minded attitude toward recommendations. His job is to pander to the lowest common denominator, and suppress his urges to display the contempt that he naturally feels. The same thing applies at the Barnes and Noble. How can the boheme not despise humanity when the majority asks for the latest Grisham novel?

How do you suppose the 'cultured proletariat' (Powers' term) maintains its sanity under such conditions? How do they protest the system? They regain their humanity through 'slacking'. They take long breaks, linger in the stockroom, engage in free-form conversations about aesthetics with their co-workers, make fun of the drone-like shoppers, and give out deep discounts to their friends. They may even lift some of their favorite products. It is easy to justify such minor scams when you are a minimum wage slave. The disenchantment is shared with co-workers, and the resulting community bands together- united in 'silent protest' to subvert the corporate machine. The rub is that management expects such behavior, and even budgets for it. The money lost is written off as 'shrinkage'. The corporation passes the expense on to the customers, and it actually ends up costing less than paying employees a decent wage. Every once in awhile they make an example out of someone to make sure the indiscretions don't get out of hand. And another worker has become a sacrifice to the bottom-line.

A Trip to the Grocery Store.

Oddly enough my return to work this year has given me the vague realization that I'm maturing. I actually appreciate having the discipline and structure of my work schedule. This is absolutely the first time in my life that I could have ever said this with any amount of sincerity. But somehow going to sleep and getting up at the same time every day clears up space for me to plan to use my time wisely. I find myself getting more stuff done than when I have an almost unlimited amount of free time. Maybe if I simply imposed some arbitrary structure on myself when I'm off work, I could increase my overall productivity.

One indicator that I am being more intentional about my life is that I made a trip to the grocery store today. Actually M. has been on me to do that for a long time, and it certainly makes sense. I end up spending a wasteful proportion of my discretionary spending on going out to eat. Often I go months without stocking up the larder. When I step back for an objective perspective I realize that the money can be better spent elsewhere. But it seems like such a commitment to make a trip to the local Shop N' Save. I have to put aside (at least) an hour of my precious time, and give up a big chunk of dollars. It seems surreal that I spend $150+ mainly for my self. M. and I have radically different eating habits, so my shopping choices are only limited by my own discretion. Thinking back to my childhood, I remember it costing about $100 for a week's worth of meals for a family of four. It's just my guess, but I assume it's a lot more than that now.

When I do decide to head out food shopping, I have several local options. This is indeed one of the charms of living in the city. I can go to the fancy, yuppified extravaganza with the sushi bar and all the gourmet cheeses. There's the "community grocer", with a smaller selection and cheaper prices. Of course there are now a few "organic" and healthy options at the franchise eco-friendly chains. And finally there is the fall-back option- the ghetto grocery store. Why do I always keep choosing that one? Somehow I have formed the perhaps mistaken notion that prices will be lowest there. I could also put forth some muddled theory about the democratic aspects of shopping among those in a different social class. But the real reason is because it's a habit. I've been going to the same place for years, even though it has actually reduced its floor size by a third to make room for a Save-A-Lot. It's old fashioned and offers limited choices... and I know where everything is.

One thing I have to pay closest attention to (especially at the store I shop at) is expiration dates. On more than one occasion I have made a selection, only to bring it home later and discover it's no longer edible. Maybe people in a third world nation would be grateful for what we regularly throw away. I'm not taking any chances. There is a ludicrous amount of products to choose from. The thing is that most of it is ridiculously unhealthy. I've always made it very clear that I have an unsophisticated palate. I was raised with typical American middle class sensibilities- which means that I still get lost in the cereal aisle. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I am often hypnotized by all the (artificial) colors. It's a a good thing they don't still offer those little plastic toys, or I would be helpless to resist.

The most difficult aspect of grocery shopping for me now is trying to make healthier decisions. Just a couple years ago I spent the most amount of time in the frozen foods sections. I'd have to reorganize my entire freezer in order to shove my purchases inside. Over time I've realized that most of that stuff just plain sucks. But I don't really cook and I haven't developed a whole lot of alternatives. Not eating cow anymore only confounds the situation. No wonder I take the easy way and eat out. I can't even imagine having to grow this stuff as well. Occasionally, despite my best instincts, I love "our freedoms". That's right... I'm a freedom-lover.

Cars and Taxes.

I know that one of the the things I have gone on about on this blog is the relationship between Americans and their cars. I can't think of any other accessory that makes people act more selfish than the automobile. Let some slight and weak individual get behind the wheel, and soon he/she is acting like they are the"alpha male" of his/her tribe. Somehow the 1000 lbs+ of metal and plastic armor surrounding them makes folks pretty bold. Things they would never consider doing when approaching a stranger on a back alley night-time street become standard operating procedure. I know you've seen examples of what I'm talking about. Soccer moms flip you the bird. Little men in suits tail your bumper. Wizened elders act like they own the road. Pull up next to one of these drivers and try to confront them through their open window, and you get a sense of their perceived invulnerability. It's a lot of big, big talk.

Considering the way advertising portrays car ownership, I guess it's easy to understand why so many are afflicted with preposterous ideas. Cars are one of the most obvious conveyances of status in this society. Americans revel in their ability to purchase the biggest, most expensive automobiles- regardless of the effects their decisions have on the environment, politics, the economy, or their fellow human beings. People justify their consumer choice with platitudes of their own self-importance. They will point out that they have worked to realize their dream of owning a Hummer. They believe that others will admire them for owning a Lexus SUV. They are keeping up with the Joneses. Their convertible sports car will get them laid in their middle age. Their Porsches and BMWs will help them "close the deal". Or otherwise they are merely enjoying their God-given "freedoms".

Take a look at how self-satisfied and smug your fellow drivers are, as they chat on their cellphones and blindly cut you off in traffic. Or just bring up the topic in conversation. It seems that a lot of folks don't even need to be in their cars to think and act completely irrationally when it comes to their vehicular "rights". Americans lose all sense of logic and fairness when it comes to their automobiles. A recently proposed bill in the PA state legislature and the resulting "discussion" on AM talk radio clearly illustrate the perceptions of many of our fellow citizens. Under a GOP plan, tolls would be places on PA interstates 78, 79, 80, 81, and 95. The rationale behind this legislation is that it is needed for bridge and road repair. It's an alternative to leasing the PA turnpike or increasing the state fuel tax. The tolls would be administered by the Turnpike Commission.

What are the responses to these tolls? They are predictably almost universally negative. Put aside for a moment the irony of Republican party politicians advocating that drivers pay for the services they use, while they bitch about high taxes on gasoline out of the other side of their mouths. These are the exact same guys that would like to see the entire interstate system privatized- as if that would increase the accountability of the people that maintain the roads... as if making it a for-profit venture is going to reduce the ultimate costs for drivers. Most people simply don't want to pay for a road system out of their own pockets. If they pay at the pump- then the government is gouging them, and the oil companies can blame our leaders for the high prices. When you bring up the prospect of tolls, you hear a lot of crying about how the politicians are corrupt and inefficiently spending what tax monies they do collect. They say that PennDot shouldn't require anymore money whatsoever. No matter what the government does to remedy the condition of our roads, they will always be charged with corruption and waste.

Simultaneously, the same people that bitch about the flaws in the government's operation and maintenance of the interstates will whine whenever there is talk of an increase in the funding of public transportation. Why should suburbanites and exurbanites have to pay for city folk to get around? Never mind that the lives of those outside the cities are subsidized by federal and state tax dollars that urbanites pay out of their wages. The factors that have allowed people to escape and ignore the social problems in the city are cheap oil and the public subsidization of interstate roads. People bitch about the (actually very small) percentage of their tax dollars that is earmarked for social programs to help the lower classes. Yet no one ever talks about the fact that our federal government artificially depresses the price of gasoline in this country with an aggressive and costly foreign policy. It's a vicious cycle that keeps our economy wholly dependent on the rapidly failing oil paradigm.

Somehow this reality never gets talked about on AM radio, or among "free market" conservatives. And while cities can be transformed to meet the changing variables of time, suburban/exurban development and its accompanying "car-culture" are not only unsustainable- but also so artificial and wasteful that they can't ever be transformed into something useful. The strip malls and the sprawl model of development are only possible with the state and federal government subsidization. The only source of such funding is taxes. Period. Now shut up and pay.

Obsessively Irrational Discretionary Spending.

Sometimes I find myself wondering how people fifty years ago are going to judge the things we do today. There are many decisions we make that already carry negative consequences that we can easily foresee. For instance, our energy policy has ceased to have any coherent relationship with reality. We know that we have to find a new approach soon. We aren't acting quickly enough. That should be evident to everyone by now. But other more subtle choices can seem pretty irrational when viewed with any measure of objectivity. To many who live with routine hardship, the behavior of Americans must appear inexplicable.

The things we attach value to are mind-boggling. But we are empowered to find worth by our unprecedented luxury. One recent example of surreal commerce has to do with the game World of Warcraft. I wrote about the phenomena in an earlier post. While that particular form of postmodern colonialism is certainly mind-bending, it's certainly no exception. Last night I was reminded of another category of irrational valuation- and this was something with which I have had ample personal experience. Much of our economy has to do with items that have no real intrinsic value of their own, but are rather fraught with perceived value. I'm talking about collectibles. Imagine any class of consumer good... you can bet that somewhere out there is a group of folks dedicated to its acquisition. The law of supply and demand states that if people desire something, then it has relative worth that can be measured in currency. It simply doesn't matter if the object being collected has no actual utility.

I've always been a collector. When I was younger I horded comics, coins, stamps, action figures, and business cards. But my main passion was for sports cards. I estimate that I had somewhere in the neighborhood of 100 thousand of them. For those of you who don't remember, the 1980's marked a huge craze in the investment possibilities of sports collectibles. Aficionados would identify young prospects who they believed would someday become stars. Then they would purchase the rookie cards of these players in bulk. If expectations were met by performance, then those cards would appreciate in value. For a few crazy years, financial advisers were assessing the merits of this type of investment. Some suggested that the burgeoning industry was a valid alternative to the stock market.

The problem was that more people were buying these cards strictly for investment than there were fans who really loved the sports themselves. To complicate matters, the card manufacturers exploited the perception that their products were serious investments, and flooded the market with countless limited edition sets. No one could really keep up with all of that, and supply quickly outstripped demand. A lot of people who really did love the sports and the cards grew frustrated and just lost interest. Many folks ended up with closets full of cardboard boxes containing mere squares of printed cardboard.

That period in time wasn't unique. As long as there has been disposable income, people have been fanatical about collecting one thing or another. Just Google "tulipmania" to see for yourself. But it's one thing to consider this from a broad sociological perspective, and entirely different to try and understand the individual that fuels any specific collecting craze. Somewhere in the early 1990's there was some obsessive basketball fan, sitting at his kitchen table late on a Saturday night, and agonizing over the urge to buy a Michael Jordan rookie card. Knowing that the cost could reach nearly $1000, the guy must have struggled with his priorities. Maybe his kid had a cleft palate and needed some cosmetic work done. But damn... wouldn't it be nice to have that card!! Perhaps this hapless father rationalized his choice by telling himself that it was a good investment. Junior would be hitting adolescence soon, and he could surely grow a mustache to obscure his flaw. He could even color that space in the middle where the hair wouldn't grow. Would it really be so bad for this guy to indulge himself in the one pleasure that distracted him from his shitty job and dissolving marriage?

Yeah, it probably would be. Yet somewhere there were guys just like him driving the price of that card higher. Would it do to sit back on our perch and judge him? I am still a collector. Now I collect films, books, and art. Do these choices reflect some kind of cultural sophistication on my part? Do they speak of my intellectual curiosity or appreciation for the finer things? What would a starving mother in Africa say? How will my descendants judge my passions when the cost of a barrel of fresh water eclipses the price of a barrel of crude oil? Who can say?

My fascination with our "throwaway" culture.

I assume that just about everyone I know has heard of the Confucian curse- "May you live in interesting times." Regardless, I believe that this wish has been fulfilled. We contend with global warming, a looming oil crisis, bad government, a general rise in fundamentalism, nuclear proliferation, economic globalization, etc. There are certainly plenty of bleak indicators to worry us. Writing about these challenges could keep me busy for the rest of my natural life. Fortunately there is at least one offsetting benefit that our contemporary life offers us- something that can help distract us from the malaise of our modern times. We have an unprecedented access to just about anything ever recorded. This includes music, film, news, television, internet sites, literature, and art. In a very short period of time, we can locate the particular piece of media that we desire. Modes of communication have multiplied and accelerated.

I think that this only truly hit me when I discovered Amazon.com. Never before had it been so easy to locate and/or discover any of the endless creations of man- whether the work in question was primarily characterized as information, education or entertainment. It was an astounding expansion of availability to the minds of our contemporaries, as well as those in our recent past. Many people alive today have never known a time before CDs, videos, PC's, DVD's and the multitude of other recording devices. They can't remember a time of limited choice. Although I am by no means an old man, there was a time in my youth when people relied on the rather limited and arbitrary collections of local libraries. That's not necessary today. I also remember television before the spread of cable. Home viewers had to settle for whatever was being offered on network television. That sounds incredibly quaint now that we have ON Demand.

Nowadays the only restrictions we face are imposed by our own financial resources. We choose from the vast number of media platforms based upon what we can afford. I don't have any fancy cable. I have a dial-up internet connection. But I can still get the items I want delivered to my home within a reasonable period of time, and I own the devices necessary to enjoy them. That's a far cry from 200 years ago. Back then wars were needlessly extended due to the slow pace of communication. People actually relied on horses to deliver the mail. On the other hand, we can conceivably learn what happens in any part of the world in as short of a period as it takes to transmit digital data via satellite. We are still adjusting to the ramifications of this Information Age. It's easy to feel overwhelmed.

But there's a more relaxed, almost atavistic way to deal with all of this. For as long as there has been a settled human population, people have used the marketplace for the exchange of ideas, as well as other types of consumables. And here I'm talking about the most organic and loosely organized marketplace- the "swap meet" or peddler's fare. At these gatherings, ordinary f0lks gather to participate in the immediate and most localized of economies. They are not restricted by the conventions of corporate sales. Here we can discover the cast-off detritus of media platforms that are no longer in fashion. The progress of technology is so swift that the recordings of yesterday's formats (8-track and cassette tapes, VHS, vinyl records, laserdiscs) can be had for almost nothing. What better and more economical way is there to take stock of where we've been?

While it's true that the elements of local taste and a dose of random chance define the available selection at such markets, the experience of shopping in such places can be akin to a treasure hunt. If you can transcend the strange sort of technological bias we have become accustomed to (arising from new gadgets that make us turn our nose up at the grainy quality of analog recordings), you can discover gems that you were never even aware of. If you can open yourself to the serendipity of "fate", and engage this most disorganized of marketplace- you can avoid the varying degrees of marketing manipulation that define our throwaway corporate culture. It's a fascinating exploration that rewards the seeker with a unique sociological perspective and a wealth of insights about our postmodern age. And it might even put that old Confucian curse in a new light.