Church Of Commodity
5 AM. Suburban New Jersey. 2000 people lined up at Best Buy.
Go. Go now. You're already late. Buy, buy, buy, people. Don't stop. Shop til you sweat. Shop til you drop. Don't even wait until morning, in fact. Go, as "a growing number of shoppers like Sean Humphreys" did, straight from Turkey Dinner.
No pie for you.
We Americans sure are religious, but no one lines up at 5 AM to meet with the Lord.
Macy's, on the other hand? I'm there. Got my coffee mug, my thermos, a warm blanket and my VISA.
Fighting with others to get me a Playstation?
Priceless...
Buy, people. Buy. It makes you happy. It makes you better. How else to measure the worth of a person than by what he buys you? Support the war. Support the economy. America's depending on you, people.
It's the alter of Wal-Mart. Of K-Mart. Martha says, "Step right up." It's a good thing...
It's the Spectacle of Shopping. The "permanent opium war." (That's not me; that's DeBord. But what does he know? He's a damn Marxist.) Gotta have it. You're deficient. You need it. Skin cream, face cream. Scrape it, scrub it, fix it, blend it, hide it. Download it, upload it. Show it off to your friends. Don't fix -- buy new. Don't wash -- buy new. You're outdated, remember.
Outdated? Can't have that. Now, where did I put that charge card...?
Here's an idea: Buy Nothing today.
Enjoy your turkey. Talk to your kids. Read a book.
Unpatriotic, for sure. Subversive? Yep.
Priceless, in fact...




