I'm No Marxist, But Capitalism Is A Bummer

One of my earliest jobs out of college was working in an advertising agency. I could tell within a few weeks that my soul was dying, so I quit. Undaunted, advertising still found me: there's no way to hide and nowhere to hide. The admen will hunt you down relentlessly, demanding you spend money for products you absolutely must have in order to have a fulfilling life.

This ploy doesn't work on me. The only things I need for the rest of my life are food and drink, gas in my car, cleaning supplies for my body and my home, those little inter-dental toothbrushes -- so much better than dental floss -- and possibly surgery when required. Oh, and gifts for friends and family when appropriate. That's it. Yet everywhere I look, someone is selling me something. 

These days TV is little more than a constant parade of commercials hawking new cars, car insurance, life insurance, medication for any disease you have or might get, dog food, cat food, laundry detergent, storm windows, a car windshield, new tires, sleeping aids, bed sheets, weight-loss drugs, hair restorers, dry eye drops, toothpaste or retractable sun umbrellas and garden hoses, all of it on sale just for today and if you order two somehow it costs less than just one.

The Internet is even worse. Whatever you clicked on out of simple curiosity will come back to haunt you 100-fold for days and days. Last night I made the foolish mistake of looking at a pair of black boots online. Since then I have received no less than 30 or 40 ads for boots, all of them black, and it's just past noon.

The phone rings. It's either Spam Risk, Scam Likely or Probably Fraud, selling something, stealing something or asking for a donation. Pardon me while I sob uncontrollably.