The Good American
I am one single old lady needing to feed only myself, my cat, and my dog. But it’s rare that I get out of the grocery store for under $100 these days. Lately the bill sometimes reaches $200. But in all fairness, having moved to the Frozen Yankee Land, perhaps I’ve been buying more than I need so I can fill my “fruit cellar”—an ingenious cinderblock room in the basement that stays cold without refrigeration—with everything I might possibly need if I get snowed in. It isn’t likely I’ll get snowed in. Yankee municipalities plow the roads readily. But it’s been decades since I’ve lived in a place with deep snow. I need to be sure.
But today I went to the store just to buy printer ink. Many folks no longer require a printer. Some don’t even use paper. But I’m not one of those. I print drafts of what I write so I can proofread and revise more effectively. I print song lyrics so I can haul them with me to jams and mark them up as needed. (I know. Modern people keep song lyrics on a device. I don’t want to have to buy the device—or learn how to use it.)
So, I needed ink. I bought a few other things—milk, yogurt, teabags—but not much, so I was floored when the total came to almost $90. Then I remembered—printer ink is expensive.
My printer was not terribly expensive—Target currently advertises it for $69. But it consumes ink like holiday partiers consume caviar—which costs about the same.
I asked the Almighty Google why printer ink is so expensive and learned it’s “…because of the ‘razor and blades’ business model where printers are sold cheaply (or at a loss), and manufacturers make huge profits from selling costly, proprietary ink… while controlling the supply to lock customers in.” Additionally, Google told me there’s “less ink in cartridges than before.”
I can tell cartridges contain less ink than before—I just installed fresh ink a couple weeks ago—and I need more already. A new cartridge used to last a month or two. And I know I haven’t printed more than usual—I still have paper left over.
I was thinking I could give up my printer—and give up ink entirely. I could go back to writing longhand—using pencils. But alas, the president’s recent speech in Pennsylvania dissuaded me. He declared there is nothing wrong with the economy, Americans just need to be frugal. He said, “You can give up certain products. You can give up pencils.” (He also proposed buying fewer dolls, but fortunately I don’t buy any dolls because I can’t eat them or write with them.)
Now I don’t know what to do.
If I use pencils, I’m messing with the economy. Using a printer supports billionaire CEOs whenever I buy ink—so it’s probably the patriotic thing to do. After all, they are the ones keeping the Trump kingdom afloat and donating mega dollars for the construction of our nation’s golden ballroom.
So, I am in a quandary. I want to display my patriotism. And I want to do my part to protect the economy. And I’d like to write. But I also want to eat—without resorting to eating my cat and dog.
If you don’t see my column after the first of the year, you can assume I’ve given up all forms of writing—and am in the fruit cellar using an abacus to monitor my expenditures. ‘Til then, Happy Holidaze. (And remember—if you want to be a good American, buy steel, but not pencils or dolls.)