Oh, what a wobbly world
I just got a colorful piece of junk mail from the giant box store in my region. It’s addressed to “Our Neighborhood Friend” at my street address. And right next to my address it says “$20+ in savings—Plus, personalized bonus offers just for you.”
Hmmm. They don’t even know my name—but have personalized offers just for me? Sounds rather disingenuous, don’t you think?
But that’s the way of the world now. I moved across country last year. I live alone—with my dog and cat. Yet my offspring get mail at my house. Almost daily, there are slick flyers and fancy embossed envelopes from uber-capitalists looking here for my children’s money. Neither their money nor their homes are anywhere nearby.
Sometimes my dead mother and father also get mail in my box— begging for do-gooder donations, attempting to get my overeducated Pop to take courses online, or offering them both a deal on a scenic ocean cruise. Mom died four years ago, and Pop’s been dead for well over twenty. But I guess hope springs eternal in the drive to milk money from the little people. Never mind if they dwell on closet shelves in boxes dispensed from Nelson Funeral Home.
I play a logic game on my phone sometimes, thinking maybe it’s good for my brain. But whatever exercise it provides for my cerebral cortex is probably cancelled out by the endless ooze of repetitive ads that promise me if I practice Tai Chi Chair for 28 days my 72-year-old body will be mistaken for 35, and if I use the overnight moisture replenishing facemasks from Amazon my face will be likewise rejuvenated. And then my shiny fit self can improve my credit score while buying shoes, dining out, or getting a manicure.
Another repetitive ad wants me to download an app that will “save me money every time I spend money.” I’ll get automatic discounts at a wide assortment of stores, restaurants, and gas stations. This notion, is, of course silly. These businesses foot the bill for the app to get you to spend money at their places of business. We old people recognize this scam: You pay Sam’s Club for the privilege of shopping there—where they claim everything is discounted. And since you’ve invested $60 in a membership, you shop there exclusively. A diehard billionaire scam.
Even health care is generally about big bucks. If you have private health insurance, the company’s bottom line is turning a profit for shareholders—not ensuring you are healthy. And even so-called non-profit hospitals seem hellbent on putting a dent in everyman’s budget. My “non-profit” health care system keeps sending me notices that I owe another $5 here and $10 dollars there, even though I haven’t had an appointment since June and always pay my bills in full when I receive them.
Money makes the world go ‘round…