A scam of the worst sort.
I must preface this here blog with the disclaimer that I am inordinately fond of mothers. After all, it was a mother who issued me, and the woman I married (12 years ago today) has, in fact, become a mother, plus an overwhelming number of my pals are similarly stricken with motherhood.
This does not prevent me from realizing--and, more importantly, giving voice--that Mothers Day is a scam. The result of an unholy alliance between the greeting card maf...er...manufacturers, restaurants with slow services on the early Sunday shifts and women whose wombs bore and whose breasts, as Scripture sagely notes, gave suck. Much like shoplifting, the legs of this triangle go on merrily because they cannot see the persons who ultimately bear the cost.
This year the cost in question* is in the high three figures and given the fact that every gift simply begs for accessorization, it'll likely be only at some point in the mid-to-high four figures before my AmEx ceases to hemorrhage and the outflow of cash is stanched. By the time Christmas Day rolls around it will be time to start the cycle anew. Jewels, a new bathroom, a trip to Italy, it never slows. To decline participation is, frankly, to court disaster. The worst possible interpretation will be given to the non-participant's actions or lack thereof and the cost of the ransom will easily be treble the initial outlay, so we have to play along and mutely at that.
Part of the problem is the limited shelf life of the sorts of thing the sophisitcated woman desires. It either falls apart or goes out of fashion within three years. Granted, I realize this sort of thing is a vital component of the engine which fuels our economic progress as a market economy and furthermore, if one is unfortunate enough to espouse the economic theories of Keynes or Galbraith, it practically amounts to the whole of the GDP if one rounds up.
Catch me on Fathers Day and I'll tell you how the other half lives.
-J.
* Since those whom I've offsprung still have not much credit in their own name, Daddy gets to foot the bill.
This does not prevent me from realizing--and, more importantly, giving voice--that Mothers Day is a scam. The result of an unholy alliance between the greeting card maf...er...manufacturers, restaurants with slow services on the early Sunday shifts and women whose wombs bore and whose breasts, as Scripture sagely notes, gave suck. Much like shoplifting, the legs of this triangle go on merrily because they cannot see the persons who ultimately bear the cost.
This year the cost in question* is in the high three figures and given the fact that every gift simply begs for accessorization, it'll likely be only at some point in the mid-to-high four figures before my AmEx ceases to hemorrhage and the outflow of cash is stanched. By the time Christmas Day rolls around it will be time to start the cycle anew. Jewels, a new bathroom, a trip to Italy, it never slows. To decline participation is, frankly, to court disaster. The worst possible interpretation will be given to the non-participant's actions or lack thereof and the cost of the ransom will easily be treble the initial outlay, so we have to play along and mutely at that.
Part of the problem is the limited shelf life of the sorts of thing the sophisitcated woman desires. It either falls apart or goes out of fashion within three years. Granted, I realize this sort of thing is a vital component of the engine which fuels our economic progress as a market economy and furthermore, if one is unfortunate enough to espouse the economic theories of Keynes or Galbraith, it practically amounts to the whole of the GDP if one rounds up.
Catch me on Fathers Day and I'll tell you how the other half lives.
-J.
* Since those whom I've offsprung still have not much credit in their own name, Daddy gets to foot the bill.
Comments
--P.
Because at least she doesn't have--and isn't displaying openly--a sizable collection of merchandise touting The Preppy Handbook. Or, for that matter, a The Simpsons collector plate from the Franklin Mint. Just to pick an example or two at random.
--P.
IMO she deserves many, many blue boxes from Tiffany's.
--P.