The Marginal Propensity to Consume

That fancy subject was just to catch your eye, but it does have me and a whole lot of other folks around the world thinking lately about both personal economics and the conditions of our country. Heck, its tough to watch television or listen to the radio without some mention of our economy. One of my favorite cohorts at the YMCA today said to me presumably randomly while catching his breath outside of the sauna, “don’t suppose many folks will be spending much at Christmas this year. They gonna be worried about puttin’ food on the table.” We went on to discuss the benefits of layaway for a lot of families and how it looks like Wal-Mart will be bringing the service back for 2008. So beyond the politics of it all, I’ve been tracing in my mind back to when all this consumption began. I mean, have you ever noticed that the majority of our “wants” become either worthless within weeks of ownership or slowly begin to own us..i.e. our mortgages. I know I’m not saying anything monumental here. Its been said a million times before…but when did this start? Are we hard-wired to want to consume and not just appreciate or is it mainly cultural? Did it start when we looked at the Adirondacks, Mississippi River or Grand Canyon and something inside our little immigrant hearts said “I need it!” ..forget about the millions of Indians who happened to be standing in the way of me and my want? Is there always a negative byproduct to our massive consumption? Maybe it all started with Eve and that apple..but, frankly I think she catches too much of the blame of most things already. I'd simply like to make a call to everyone to look at that new sweater at the store and let it warm your desires, but then let it warm you that you have a very similar one in your closet. Picture yourself in that new mini cooper zooming around the narrow streets of Europe and then praise God that your old clunker is still running and getting you to and from work. Lets simply appreciate without the need to consume.

Oh, oh, oh its Magic

It’s been quite a while since I’ve added a worthwhile blog entry, but unfortunately it probably reflects my general mood lately. My friend Jennifer that lives in Costa Rica wrote a great piece on her site about how she misses the changing of the seasons as she is surrounded by green as far as the eye can see. I often do share a similar sentiment for the coming of fall, but for some reason this year it seems especially hard. It feels like the whole world is kind of winding down and readying itself to lay back for a nap as it regroups itself for another year. The breezes have all become chilly and the patio furniture is being put away. The year has grown tired of the words “maverick,” “change,” and “stimulus package” and will soon be wrapped in a blanket of snow preparing itself for a better 2009. I’m already missing margarita evenings with Rebecca by the pool, reading our books while the sun sets. I am already nauseated by fantasy football at work because frankly I have no idea what anyone is talking about. I keep waiting for something especially interesting to happen before I write a new blog. Then it happened. Well, it didn’t really “happen,” it was a dream actually. Last night as I was fast asleep, my dream led me to a school carnival where I was part of a big magic act. In front of the whole school the magician was going to “cut my head off.” Of course it was all a big stunt and I was assured that I wouldn’t be hurt in the process. So it was the moment of truth and the magician reared back his arm and quickly dropped his sword over my neck. While I was a tad nervous, nothing really happened, and I was supposed to simply lay my head down and act dead. Of course, as in real life, I sometimes have a hard time withholding my laughter. I began to laugh, while supposedly dead and I ruined the whole act. The magician was furious and stormed away in frustration. One of my favorite high school teachers, my AP Art History teacher, happened to be in the audience in my dream and he concurred, I had in fact ruined everything by laughing. Then, the thought crossed my mind in my dream, “well, I might have ruined everything, but at least I finally have something to blog about.”

All For A Few Pieces of Candy

I don’t know if it was because I was dressed as a pirate for 90% of my Halloween trick-or-treating outings (the other 10% were spent outfitted in my school clothes and a horrendous two headed monster mask that I begged my dad for from Wal-Mart), or if I can chalk it up to that missing lobe of my brain used for rational thinking, but I have an uncanny knack for horrible Halloween costume ideas. This has come to my attention more and more over the last five years after meeting and now being married to a Halloween birthday girl. This once fairly insignificant celebration of all things dead and/or chocolate has now become one of the main focal points of our year. All year we store up ideas for costumes. Whether they are celebrities, animals, heroes or gods, mine are consistently the worst. I thought it would be nice to document some of these horrible ideas and maybe you could reply with some of yours..a real opportunity for me to stop feeling alone in my lapse of good judgment. First, about two or three years ago, my good friend Jason, from the now defunct Christopher Pizza, found himself costumeless Halloween evening. We had plans of heading over to East Nashville and bar hopping with a small group of friends. Jason, single at the time, made the mistake of asking me my opinion on what he could pull together in a few hours. My suggestion was “All Dressed Up With No Place to Go.” I informed him all he had to do was, put on a handsome suit and carry around a map and look lost all evening. I thought this would be a prime opportunity for him to be approached all night by lovely women asking him something like, “hey good looking, what are you supposed to be?” The possible responses were endless! Unfortunately, he spent most of the evening with a menacing look on his face, cornered into a booth with his map on the table, most likely plotting out revenge. The next major mistake I made was last year when I suggested that Rebecca and I go as a girl scout and a “girl scout.” She could wear her old uniform and I could dress up as a slime ball/guido with a clip board, rating girls all night. Again, my plan went down in flames. The joke was usually lost in translation or folks found me a tad too creepy. I could tell you about the time I was a fanny-pack, Branson hat wearing tourist, or my idea to be a Tennessee Titan (toga, lightning bolt, handle bar mustache and mullet), or my idea to wrinkle my shirt, mess my hair and put some brown make up on my face, people would ask “What are you, some sort of mess.” And I would reply, “no, I’m the financial bail-out plan,” but I think you are beginning to understand, I wasn’t made for Halloween, costume parties or maybe even the visual arts.