I stopped in one of those fancy organic supermarkets, during one of my recent nightly forays, to get a couple of apples. As in two – no more, no few.
Apples, the source of original sin. The temptation that sunk man into deep do-do from the start.
Anyway, I was holding a few dollar bills in my hand, as I distractedly observed a city police officer. I wondered why he was providing protection services for a private business – especially a politically correct supermarket.
Then the youthful and plump check-out girl interrupted my thoughts. She sweetly announced: “That will be $4.49.”
Does it ever happen to you – like it did to me — that something, sometime, somewhere finally manages to penetrate your Colgate dental shield. Your air of insouciance. Your haughty indifference…
It takes awhile. I mean we are so inured, numb to almost everything. We are accustomed to the thousands killed in an earthquake in Turkey; Or the revolutionary blood flowing in the Arab Spring; Or banks collapsing everywhere; Or our government acting like a bunch of asses; Or Wall Street being incorrigible jackals, Or your dental bill…
I think you get the general gist…
This stuff no longer ‘GETs’ to us. Because if it did, all of us would be out there supporting the “Occupy” Philadelphia, Wall Street, Oakland, Nashville and nearly 1,000 other cities worldwide.
But every so often something does poke a pin hole to seep into the still functioning parts of our cerebellum oblongata.
And slowly, as you are surfacing from the deep, watery depths, with each disbelieving blink of your eyes, you find yourself gulping and shrieking: “For two apples??!!”
And then you want to wrassle the bear of economic absurdity. So you keep repeating, as if this innocent check-out person isn’t totally numb to the bloody idiotic prices she rings thru her register for corn and cabbage and just about everything else grown in organic shit.
You can’t understand why no one else isn’t enraged — $4.49 for two bloody apples?!
It’s not that I couldn’t afford them. Obviously, I had the money in my hand. It’s that I didn’t want to participate in the atrocity. The insult. The bloody indignation.
I may not comprehend our $14.2 trillion dollar national debt, but I sure as hell speak the lingo of apples that apparently sell for three dollars a damn pound!
This must be where the “1” percent shops. Because no one else seemed to mind that apples cost more than Cadillacs, or that the salad bar charged $7.95 a pound. Or was than a gram?
This must be G-d’s way of telling us we are earning too darn much money. It used to be cocaine. Now it’s a Honeycrisp apple.
Yeah, they taste great, but so did my last ex-wife. She weren’t no Honeycrisp apple, but a Stephanie Blatt tart that tried to kill me. A number of times. A 5-week stay in the hospital one-time. Which is why nothing tastes too good to me anymore. Which is why lions don’t eat divorced women no more….they’re too darn bitter.
Folks, we got trouble in River City.
And it begins with an ‘F’, because we are certainly getting ‘f—ked.”
Shake your head everybody. Tell me I am not the only one gone over the edge, here.
Hmm… Then again, the only people who know where the ‘edge’ is are those of us who have already gone over it. So let me forewarn you: insanity does not run in my family – it gallops.
Okay, if I am the crazy one, why is it that I’m the one with so many questions…and so few arrogant, dogmatic answers? I don’t pretend to know what ignorant people are certain of. Yet, why am I the one who sees the lunacy?
Do I need to increase my meds? When did we all start getting beaten into submission by a red-headed, Chinese dominatrix? When did we all start digesting Keynesian economics with our breakfast beer? When did we start thinking it was healthier to consume sugar, corn and rye instead of brewing them into bourbon?
Hell, when did we buy into a supply and demand business model that wasn’t as rigged as my dear ol’ ex-wife — even before they slapped on the handcuffs and leg shackles…and of course a tongue depressor.
I must have been in a diabetic coma during the blip in time when a car like the VW leaped from $2,000 to $25,000.
What I do know is that it doesn’t have to be like this. Let me put it succinctly: Stuff can’t just keep going up.
Prices got readjusted and re-evaluated in the Great Depression. And now look at the housing bust in this country. People kept buying the stuff at any price ignoring the laws of physics. They figured they were always going to reap a profit on their investment.
Well, they didn’t, did they? However, the balloon wasn’t popped by the prick of a pin, but a lot of voracious, greedy pricks on Wall Street.
So why do we sit around worried about our credit ratings, when they’re stage-managed to control us? They’re manipulated by the same avaricious, profligate, immoral, recalcitrant scoundrels we had to bail out for their self indulgent, shameless decadence.
I’ve said it many times, and I’ll say it again. They’d snatch our family jewels if they could figure out the right spin to package the derivatives on eunuch collateral.
Why the heck not? They already have us all but convinced that none of us are going to get into heaven without good credit. That’s how mad, mad, mad the bloody world has become.
This has got to stop. We need to break sumthing. I mean REALLY break sumthing. And I don’t care what it is. We just need to send a message that enough is too much. We can’t just stand around no more while we’re on the wrong side of the bathroom door.
This is it. Maybe I will camp out at Occupy Philadelphia.
And to think, I’ll rejoin the “Occupy” revolution because of two overpriced organically grown apples that apparently weren’t from the Tree of Knowledge.
Organic food stuff is grown in natural non-chemical stuff. Manure. And that ain’t nothing but shit. And the world is full of shit. So why is it costing me so bloody much for two damn apples?
I ain’t swallowing this crap anymore. None of us should.
Everybody lies. Everybody makes the free market system something incomprehensible. Something fraught with supply and demand predilections, but mostly prevarications. It is made to seem too mathematically hard for us lumpenproletariat to comprehend.
It’s not. Look who has been yanking the strings to get us in this revoltin’ economic mess and you realize we could have done better with a flip of the coin.
Everything seems more complicated because that’s where the money is – the seductive delusion of a riddle wrapped in an enigma. It’s just the same old way of sticking us with the same old shit.
Unlike that Chinese prostitute who once promised me: “I make you harder than Chinese math.”
Yeah, I was getting schtooped. But at least I was getting what I paid for. Best of all, she was willing to negotiate. In a language as old as the profession. I think it’s called… ‘body’.
And dats yDrewIS on DIS penal colony