It's not a matter of envying or hating the wealthy. Heck, I wouldn't mind being wealthy myself. I can think of a lot of things I would like to do if I had more money than I have. I can also think of a lot of things I would like to do if I had more money than I need. But I fail to see any rational point in accumulating more money and possessions than one can use in a lifetime, and continuing to acquire more that one can possibly use in a googolplex of lifetimes. Especially when this kind of pathological lust for acquisition involves the disruption and sometimes the destruction of the lives of thousands and sometimes hundreds of thousands of others. Maximizing the corporation's "bottom line" by laying people off and moving facilities overseas is one of the more popular ways of earning multi-million dollar bonuses and establishing that one's executive skills are worth those multimillion dollar annual salaries, perks, and stock options. But don't forget: all those unemployed people are part of the bottom line, too.

Point to ponder:— when all of the wealth is finally in the hands of the multi-national corporations and/or stashed away in the Swiss bank accounts of the corporate executives (and, of course, their political puppets) and the rest of us are broke, unemployed, and homeless—who's going to buy the goods and services the corporations produce? Hmm? Eh?

I think this pathological acquisitiveness is a national sickness, and it's not just some peculiar little cultural quirk that has occurred by happenstance. Nor is it limited to corporate executives and their political stooges. Almost all Americans have it to one degree or another. It's been gradually drummed into us since the moment of our birth. It's core is the idea, promulgated by corporations, their advertising agencies, and the politicians who pave the way for them, that America is a nation of consumers. The main conduit for this kind of brain-washing is the media. The vast majority of Americans watch two, three, maybe four hours of television per day, and every eight minutes or so, whatever they're watching is interrupted by a string of sales pitches for the newer, faster, more powerful SUV, the latest fashion ensemble from the Gap, teeth whitening strips, Preparation H to take care of the problem they acquired by sitting for hours in front of the television set, and Zoloft to alleviate the depression they feel because their lives are so bloody pointless. Every eight minutes.

If Ed McMahon every got up off his butt and gave me the ten million dollars he keeps promising me, I don't really think it would make that much difference in our lives. We have a 1999 Toyota Corolla. It has about 10,000 miles on it, which shows you how much we drive. It's a nice little car, and we'd keep it till it starts needing a lot of repairs. I might turn us into a two-car family by getting a van with a wheelchair lift and hand controls (about $35,000) so that I can go more places, but that's about the only major purchase I can think of. We might eat out more, and yes, we'd hire a maid service to come in once a week (Barbara loathes vacuuming). I'd put a wad of it into solid, stable savings where it could earn a bit (not the stock market, which, these days, is often like flushing it down the toilet, thanks to the aforementioned corporate greed and corruption) and assure us of a secure future. And then I would start making some carefully targeted donations.

All Sheila (mentioned in my former post above) needed was a couple hundred dollars for vocational school tuition. I would have been nice to be able to give her that. But Sheila was never a free-loader. She probably would have insisted on regarding it at a loan and paying it back. That would be okay, too. But it would have been nice to be able to do it, whichever way.

We have a neighbor whose garage is right next to ours (where the Corolla sleeps). Two years ago they had a Lexus sedan. Last year they had a Volvo SUV. A few days ago, I noticed that they now have a new Mercedes SUV. Huge thing! When they moved into their apartment in the building next door, they had the whole thing redecorated. The oak floorboards ran east and west—or was it north and south? Anyway, they didn't like it that way, so they had them pulled up and rotated ninety degrees. Cost a bundle! I don't get it. But someone told me it had something to do with the fact that he's into feng shui. He's in the import-export business. China. Their kids go to private schools. No messy mingling with the peasants. Nice to have lots of money, I guess. Especially when you don't have a care in the world. . . .

This is a sick country. And most of its population is pretty sick, too.

And when I think about it, sometimes I don't feel to well myself. . . .

Don Firth