AOL Polls Make Xanga Author Queasy
The Author, 2005

2.4 million U.S. citizens are in dire need of a lobotomy. According to the Tuesday, June 28th issue of bbcnews online, 2.4 million doltish Americans bolted online last week to take an AOL survey of the Top Ten Greatest American’s. The results are appalling.

Apparently, our country’s best figure of all time is Ronald Reagan. How embarrassing! But it gets worse. Take a look for yourself:

AOL Poll: Top 10 greatest Americans
1 Ronald Reagan
2 Abraham Lincoln
3 Martin Luther King
4 George Washington
5 Benjamin Franklin
6 George W Bush
7 Bill Clinton
8 Elvis Presley
9 Oprah Winfrey
10 Franklin D Roosevelt

How does Reagan trump Lincoln and MLK? Why is Elvis on the list? What on earth gives Oprah top billing? I’m sad that Americans really are that ignorant. As much as this country upsets me, we do indeed have our fair share of cool people. So that they don’t feel ignored by this awful slight that AOL has perpetrated, let’s take a moment to give them a few props, shall we? In no particular order, here we go:

The Top Ten Coolest Americans in History

César Chávez
This man forewent economic security in order to pursue equal rights for his Latino counterparts. An integral member of Community Service Organization, a Latino civil rights group, Chavez founded the United Farm Workers of America to fight for the rights of America’s migrant workers.

Harriet Tubman
Brave, heroic, and fearless, Harriet Tubman not only had the moxy to free herself from slavery, she assisted over 300 slaves to freedom as well.

Frederick Douglass
Even once he attained freedom by escaping from slavery, Douglass never lost his verve for freedom. Douglass risked his life daily, serving his fellow man as an abolitionist, editor, writer, orator, and public servant.

John Brown
John Brown kicks ass. In 1859, Brown led a raid of the federal arsenal in Virginia in order to steal the weapons that he planned to arm slaves with and start a revolution. While this attempt failed, Brown’s actions divided the nation and got people talking about aboloshing slavery, if only to save their white asses. Even though Brown was hung for his actions, he died knowing that he was a good man. Which wasn’t something most white men could say in 1859.

Mark Twain
Twain’s critiques of American society were done with such great style. If it weren’t for Twain’s concerned, funny, genuine, and impossibly human flair, I wonder if mainstream America would have ever been receptive to the very difficult things they needed to hear.

Martin Luther King Junior
Need I say more?

Margaret Sanger
I know, I know, you might be wondering, “what is that racist bitch doing on your list?” Even though Sanger founded Planned Parenthood for heart breakingly racist reasons (birth control was supposed to aid in maintaining some alleged “racial purity”), American women owe whatever shred of reproductive rights they have left to her. Conscientious American women can also be thankful that she died long before our time and we never had to boycott the pill because a racist bitch was profiting from it. I just wish that someone else stuck her neck out for a woman’s right to choose—someone who wasn’t a heinous freak interested in eugenics. Oh…the seedy underbelly of history sickens me so.

Sojourner Truth
Oh yes, Sojourner—you are a woman. One of the very best.

Tatanka Iyotaka (Chief Sitting Bull)
This Sioux chief lead his troops to conquer Custer. Iyotaka refused to relinquish his tribe’s land and relocate. Sadly, he was murdered by his own people after hideous white settlers bribed and threatened the weakest of his tribe to do so.

Dr. Huey P. Newton
Along with his friend Booby Seale, Dr. Newton was one of the founders of the Black Panther Movement. Forget about all the propaganda that you learned in your high school history classes about the Black Panthers and try a little research of your own. I’m sure you’ll find that Newton’s efforts are an example of how fiercely we should all love our communities. It sucks that there was a need for the Black Panthers, but our government is so racist and class-ist that I give props to anyone who is innovative enough to figure out a new solution.

The Top Ten Coolest Americans With a Pulse

Dennis Banks
This Native American activist and leader established the American Indian movement to protect the traditional ways of Indian people and to engage in legal cases protecting treaty rights of Natives. Banks was the principal negotiator when he led a group of Native Americans to complete a 71-day seizure of Wounded Knee in protest of a corrupt U.S. appointed leader to the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. The U.S. government, crap-assed as it is, couldn’t handle the fact that Banks wanted to educate the public about the plight he felt his native nation was going through, so they appointed a puppet to run things at Pine Ridge. The U.S.’s decision to appoint a dummy to Pine Ridge probably wasn’t hurt by the fact that Banks lead his team to seize and occupy the Bureau of Indian Affairs Office a few months prior, but if the bureaucrats at this government office didn’t refuse meetings with the people of the American Indian Movement, then perhaps they wouldn’t have had a problem in the first place. Banks is a crusader and lucky for us, he’s still alive and kickin’.

San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom
If Gavin Newsom ever runs for president, I will quit my job and work to get him in office. With his controversial crusade for gay rights, Newsom has proven to be a man who devotes more time to helping his constituents than to playing the reelection game. He is the only reasonable American voice in politics.

Margaret Cho
Margaret Cho is not only hilarious, but she is a social critic, a feminist, and a model of how truly beautiful imperfection is. When you go to one of her shows, it feels like a pep rally, firing you up and fueling you for the next proverbial battle with our greedy, bigoted country.

John Stewart
Everything I said about the Cho, but you get to witness it nightly. Joy!

Dave Capelle
Dave Chappelle is a modern Mark Twain.

Howard Zinn
This man is brave enough to tell you all about America’s fat, ugly underbelly. And boy, does he do it well.

Studs Turkel
Same as Zinn, except he’s doubly cool for collecting the stories from actual people history happened to.

Laurie Henzel & Debbie Stoller, publishers of BUST Magaznie
This magazine is what every women’s magazine wishes it could be. It’s political, fun, creative, and it generally kicks ass. I’m so thankful that these publishers exist, because it makes me feel like I’m not the only woman alive who thinks our society is heinous and hilarious all at once. Check it out! Subscribe!

Joan Blades and Wes Boyd, founders of Moveon.org
These people changed the face of activism in America. While I’m not entirely sure it’s a good change, as the Internet is a quieter force than marches and demonstrations, at least it gets more people involved and is a great place to educate yourself about activism in the U.S.

Ira Glass
This American Life is my all-time favorite radio show. Ira Glass may not bring you the news, but the way he is able to uncover how contemporary life is affecting Americans gives us all a context to put the news in. This show is amazing, and I aspire to be just as cool as Ira.

Alright ladies and gents, I’m sure I missed many (I’m no History buff), so please leave your additions in the comment box. Piss on AOL. Xanga Polls are much cooler.

Who is your favorite American?

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edit: Timshead did well to remind me to rant about Bush listed as #6. I think I just ranted about him so much in person that I didn’t realise I neglected to actually write about it! So here you go: BUSH AT 6?!?!?!?WTF!?!?!?!?!

Friends long absent are coming back to you
The Author, 2005

“What are you going to be when you get big?” her father asked.

Amanda, in an orange sunsuit, had tired of chasing moths and was studying the peculiar afternoon shadow projected across the countryside by Bow Wow Mountain. “There is no name for what I’m going to be when I get big,” she answered.

-From Another Roadside Attraction by Tom Robbins

My friends are some of the most amazing people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. So much more than a familiar and comfortable support system, those who I have the privilege to call my friends inspire me, relax me, and challenge me. They are men and women who refuse to submit to a prescribed life. They are inventive, they are revolutionary, and they are constantly evolving. While all of my friends have chosen different ways to revel in the wonder of life, we all value living a thoughtful life above all else. To us, living thoughtfully trumps everything; if it is for the right reasons, we’ll happily take the two birds in the bush over one in the hand. While we all sometimes flounder in one way or another, it seems that this core value—rare and true—keeps us bound together. It is quite beautiful, really.

This weekend Shaun-san and I rented a cabin in Saugatuck, Michigan with a group that we have been friends with since high school. We started as a motley crew notorious for loitering about the high school drama club and we have grown into a budding collective of writers, artists, teachers, and musicians. I am so proud of my friends. I am proud that they are brave enough to do what they want. It takes balls to even contemplate what one wants from life, let alone to pursue it.

Two of our friends in this group are ditching the midwest to live in L.A. and Baltimore. They are pursuing their artistic endeavors, throwing caution to the wind and believing in their abilities and strength enough to know that they will not only survive, but they will flourish. It’s nice to see such independence and strength in a person. My partner and I, plus three other amazing pals from Michigan, celebrated our last hurrah with these two creative masterminds by racing up impossibly huge sand dunes and rolling down them to charge into the cool and fishy waters of Lake Michigan. We played Frisbee, volleyball, horse, and monkey in the middle. We went hiking, roasted hot dogs and marshmallows over a raging campfire, made and destroyed a piñata shaped as a deranged saber toothed fish, and talked about life while swimming across the small bay that our cottage was cuddled up next to.

Since we already live apart from many of our long time friends, today’s parting was no more bittersweet than usual. In fact, it was actually a bit exciting, as we started planning our New Years Eve trip to California. Redwood forest—here we come!

Now back in Chicago, my skin is dark and clear and my mind is light and happy. Stress? Never heard of it. I am refreshed and grateful. I am ready for a new day.

Tonight Shaun and I ate Thai food for dinner, as the refrigerator is barren, save for some crusty milk, an eternal bottle of vodka (we aren’t really liquor drinkers, but it was a gift), and some condiments (mincemeat and Dijon mustard, anyone?). When we received the fortune cookies with our bill, my face burst into a smile. My fortune read, “Friends long absent are coming back to you.” I couldn’t have asked for a better one.
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For those interested in spending a chilled out happy weekend in a lazy beach town on the west side of the great lake state, I wholeheartedly recommend that you book your accommodations at Goshorn Lake Resort (www.glresort.com). It’s not a fancy-smancy resort—it’s cabins, but they are an incredible value (two nights in a cabin that slept seven cost us only $240!!!). There is a private beach, basketball, volleyball, canoes, fishing boats, a pool (the beach is gorgeous, so I’m not sure why they bothered, but oh well…), a fire pit, and the friendliest proprietors you will ever meet. It is situated only 5 minutes from downtown (if you are into ignoring the gorgeous natural environment in favor of buying loads of hideous crap), as well as the famous Oval Beach and Mt. Baldy. Saugatuck is an incredibly gay friendly little town as well, so come one, come all! There also seem to be a lot of people with dogs in tow, so really—two legs or four, everyone is invited.

What great getaways do you recommend?

I wrote a sassy little rant last Thursday while riding the 6:00pm train out of Chicago to see our family in Michigan. Shaun and I were happily “un-plugged” that weekend, so my little ponderings sat forgotten on our laptop until this afternoon, when I remembered that I wrote them. So, help soothe the little essay’s loneliness–give it a skim at the very least. ::smile::

As always, thank you for your readership!

Plastic Buyers
© The Author, June 9th 2005

I am riding the Amtrak train home to Michigan, wishing I could stop gawking at the smooth profile of a peach cheeked, cheese curd nibbling Amish woman who sits in the seat kitty-corner from me. I can’t get over how precious her skin looks; it is flawless, clear, and if it weren’t for her starched white bonnet and her blue tank of a dress, you’d think she walked straight out of a Dove commercial. I wonder if my skin would look less like the layer of oil that forms a gooey slick atop natural peanut butter, and more like soft and sweet powdered sugar if I too rendered lard and lye and carved out a shapely little bit to use as soap. As it stands, I don’t even know which animal lard officially comes from (although all us mammals are pretty lard-assed), so I’m guessing I’ll just have to keep forking over my hard earned cash to Proactiv Solutions in a desperate attempt to look as fresh as Ms. Amish does. However unlikely my ability to thrive while living primitively may be, I wonder if the products and technology that I’ve been told are essential to my survival are quietly ruining me.

While I am by no means a high maintenance gal, I still feel stifled by the pressure to buy. This is not a matter of excess–I loathe shopping anywhere but the Farmer’s Market and my idea of a fashion find is a cool Halloween costume–but it is still a stress to afford all the things that American culture tells me that I need. This is especially true with both Shaun and I trying to live off the (p)hat paychecks cut by our not-for-profit places of employment (snicker).

In my June 5th entry dubbed The Money Changers, many of you assured me that you don’t pay much attention to advertising and that it doesn’t affect you. But that’s the worst part: you don’t even have to be paying attention for the messages of capitalism to latch on to you and suck you dry. In fact, the hottest trend in marketing is to deemphasize the product. As many of you aptly commented on my last post, much of the time consumers aren’t even aware of which product is being advertised. This is intentional. Marketers know that consumers are growing skeptical and tired of traditional ads. They are now branding an image, an experience, and a lifestyle. They aim to create buzz–it’s not about products anymore; it’s about a state of mind. Creepy, eh?

Whether you realize it or not, advertising not only influences you to buy stuff but it also defines your culture. And one way or another, your culture dictates the way you live (the pretty Amish girl pleasantly excluded).

Since mine is making me itch like a mad bastard at the moment, let’s take bras as an example of how we are blithely supporting capitalism with our under wire cups. Bras do nothing but create sweating, aggravated tits, but still women wear them because they have been peddled in some heinous form or another for eons as something women ought to wear. I am the proud owner of the world’s smallest rack (and I am a so-called feminist to boot), and I still buy bras that mold my silhouette into the product that I’ve been raised by our society to recognize as the female form.

For gentleman perusing this fine essay, lest you feel alienated by my brazier rant, rest assured: you too are at the whims of an advertising based society. Fellows, do you wear deodorant? Pit stick has been a must have for both American men and women alike long enough for it to be ingrained in us that if we don’t wear it we’ll seem–god forbid–French. Has the whiff of the pit always been such an offense? No, in fact, body odor only become rancid once smart businesspeople started to realize they could make money off their invention that the gentle onion waft was an atrocity. We are culturally compelled to spend $5 a stick to ensure that the area where our arms meet our torsos smell like flavors designated as Clean: Lilac, Ocean Breeze, Rainy Day with Worms, and Fresh Fish. Oh wait–scratch those last two; figments of my imagination as they may be, they are just as nonsensical as the rest.

Some might argue that they find the odor of toxins exiting from their pores grotesque, but I wonder: how many of these people actually break an honest sweat during the week? Since the U.S. is no longer a manufacturing society (our C.E.O’s and government prefer cheaper, much browner people in other countries to do this task for them), a large portion of Americans earn a paycheck in an overly air conditioned office. Regardless, we slather on a pit product every morning. We’ve been trained, my dear readers. That’s why if we skipped out of the pit shellac one experimental morning and dared to shed one droplet from our weary pits while at work, our co-workers would call us smelly freaks with B.O. and make fun of us mercilessly behind our backs. A promotion? Don’t make me laugh. With that rancor steaming from your pits, you’re likely to get fired. Then you couldn’t afford to buy deodorant even if you wanted to. See how that works?

Why is it considered hygienic to seal up the body’s pores and keep all the body’s toxins inside to rot us from there? Why do women accept the idea that our breasts must be round, identical, gravity defying bulbs? Even though bare flesh is wriggling and strutting all over the media, it is all primped and tweezed and shorn and sterilized. American media may appear racy, but I see a different story. Americans are sexually constipated; our ads and our culture (forever linked) teach us that the most basic, natural functions and forms of our bodies are filthy and undesirable.

Advertising permeates more than just our body image and gender identity. Consumer products dictate the way we interact with each other as well. Cell phones, ipods, laptops, personal computers, televisions, and digital cameras–these things are cool and I truly believe that they make my life easier and better. As sick as it is, I can’t imagine much of my life without them. Even our little blue ipod–acquired only last week–has already become an actual member of our household; how else could I perform the important task of practicing foreign languages while I’m out on my morning run?

All these products are truly great, but I wonder if I believe that they make my life better for the same reason that I believe my pits to be traitors to my hygiene if they moisten. I suspect the Amish girl who is now sleeping peacefully in her seat is just as satisfied with her life as I am with mine. Only she doesn’t have the worried, over stimulated complexion that I have, and looking at her little picnic basket versus my hulking laptop bag, she has much less luggage to heave than I do.

While Ms. Amish has an entirely different world to assimilate to, I suspect hers is much cheaper than mine. I’m guessing from her peaceful expression that her breasts are comfortable and her armpits are unconcerned with whatever they chose to emit. And while I don’t dwell on these things nearly as much as this essay that highlights these two basic examples may indicate, it takes a special, scheduled time for me to feel as she must feel. Hiking, running, laughing with my posse around a campfire, hugging my partner, and diving off my family’s cottage dock into the cool, green water: these are the times when I feel that closeness to my body and my spirit that seem to be the source of the Amish girl’s beauty. The rest of the time I am detached.

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When do feel at home in your skin?

Click here for a good laugh.

*Thanks for sending this to me Nick! I love you, you satirical little brat! ::smile::

Help!

I’m looking for a bit of professional advice today. If you have ever applied for a job within the same institution that you work for, can you fill me in about how you did that gracefully?

I appreciate my employment in the marketing department at the MCA (that stands for Museum of Contemporary Art, folks) endlessly—my coworkers are great and I couldn’t ask for a better first out-of-college job—but a position in the MCA media relations department opened up and I couldn’t pass up applying for it. If I score this job in media relations, I would be writing a lot more (press releases for exhibitions, special events, and the museum social scene) and I would have more responsibilities (I’d be the point person for the press), both of which would be dreamy. Plus, the position in media relations would be full time, so I would not have to juggle a million jobs to create a full-time schedule (I’m part-time in the marketing department now).

The only downside to this position would be that if I got it, I would have to forfeit my position as a tutor at the Writing Center, which is my favorite job of all. But the pay there is crap, and it’s getting increasingly difficult to survive on it. I’ve secured a position teaching writing workshops for a few weekends this summer, so hopefully that job alone will quench my thirst for teaching English composition. 

So, after handing over my carefully crafted cover letter and resume to the director of media relations at the MCA yesterday, my question is this: what now? Do I tell my boss, the director of marketing, that I’ve applied? Do I tell her after I’ve secured an interview for the other position? Do I tell her after/if I get this other position? Will it be weird? What if I don’t get it—will I feel like a freak? Yikes!

Your comments are much appreciated.

A note that is relevant only to those who know me “offline”:
If you are wondering, “why are you applying for jobs in Chicago, aren’t you moving in September?” No, we’re not moving this September. After mourning the fact the Scotland is a no-go, Shaun wasn’t pleased with the craziness and disorganization of California State, so we’re staying put. This year we’ll squirrel away more money and keep on keepin’ on. Shaun-san is going to be taking a few more classes at AIC, free thanks to his awesome work benefits, and I’ll just keep getting more work experience. We’re happy here, but the world is calling! Shaun’s going try again–applying to more programs this time–and he’ll be starting somewhere next fall. We will be moving out of our rancid, hellish apartment once the lease is up in September. The window sill in the bathroom is rotting away and there are weird buggies and mushrooms growing on it. Besides creating a space to conduct a biology experiment, why would anyone build a bathtub and shower next to a big window with a wood frame? Grotesque!

edit later this morning:

With my pulse throbbing in my neck, I did it. And it was no problem at all—my boss was lovely about it and said she would give me a stellar recommendation (thanks for that insight mydogischealsea!). Oh, what would I do without my peep’s giving me such good advice? ::smile:: Now, it’s back to work for me—I never blog at work, but our network is down this morning, so we’re all slacking a tinsy bit.  

 

 

Revelations
The Author, 2005

Sometimes I stumble upon moments that are so raw that they hit me like
water blasting from a garden hose set on jet spray; stunned, my skin
prickles and chills as I am rinsed clean of everything that is not at
the very core of me. Operating on reaction and instinct alone, learned
behaviors dissipate and I am shocked to find what my true essence
reveals itself to be.

Riding the Amtrak train back to Chicago from my hometown in Michigan
this afternoon, I woke drooling on my husband’s shoulder at the
Dearborn stop. Bleary eyed, I turned to watch the last minute farewells
happening outside the window. Here I spied the little girl who made me
cry.

A man who appeared to be her father carried the girl; her slight,
creamed coffee colored limbs fell to either side of his round belly.
The little girl, no older than three, pushed her body away from his and
twisted around to face the train. She wiggled against her fathers grip,
and with her arms stretched desperately towards the train, she wailed,
her mouth to hanging tragically in the shape of an oversized lima bean.
In her tiny fist, she held a clover flower, her fevered offering to the
boarding passenger that she loved so, so much.

Seeing this girl strain to retrieve whomever it was that left her
reminded me that I have been doing the same for a few years now. As
progressive and adaptable as my adult-self postures, I am straining to
retrieve so much in my life. At my core, I like the way tradition
settles in my bones; I look forward to certain continuities. I don’t
want to be this kind of person, but today, I suppose I am; I guess it’s
pretty human to favor the familiar. As the train moved away from the
station, the little girl collapsed onto her father’s chest in defeat,
and I cried.

Visiting my hometown and family in Michigan are never what I expect
they will be, which kind of defeats the purpose of visiting. When Shaun
and I first moved to Chicago three years ago, I had illusions that
things in Michigan would stay the same, that relationships and
friendships would be unaltered. But as the character Andrew Largeman
(Zach Braff) discovers in the movie Garden State,the concept of home shifts for people in their twenties. Largeman
ponders, “It’s like you get homesick for a place that doesn’t exist. I
mean it’s like this rite of passage, you know. You won’t have this
feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you
know, for you kids, for the family you start, it’s like a cycle or
something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that’s all family really is. A
group of people who miss the same imaginary place.”

In the three years since my partner and I have lived in Chicago, my mom
and step-dad divorced, my little brothers became teenagers, my
childhood home was sold, many of my friends disappeared into
unidentifiable versions of their former personalities, and the town I
grew up in went from dirt roads and quiet to strip malls and traffic
jams. The home I knew no longer exists.  

In his book, Thus Spake Zarathustra, Nietzsche proposes that
an ideal man behaves as his friend would expect him to, otherwise the
foundation of the relationship is forever shattered. While there is
much of Nietzsche’s philosophy that is horrifying (his assertion that
women are incapable of friendship, for example), and I don’t expect
those I love to be “ideal humans,” I know what its like to have to
rebuild a relationship when someone is suddenly different than they
originally presented themselves. In specific, when my parents divorced,
I felt like I had to reacquaint myself with my mom and step-dad. They
had almost become strangers to me, with different mannerisms, habits,
and preferences than the people I grew up loving.

For instance, I always thought my mom loved cooking. Our family meals
were pretty unique and experimental for a white family living in the
suburbs. A week’s menu might include English curried chicken, bear
burgers, venison stir-fry, Spanish rice, accompanied by monumental
salads with veggies grown fresh from mom’s garden. For desert, we’d
enjoy a frosty glass of chocolate rice milk, fresh pie, or homemade
strawberry shortcake. When I was younger, I didn’t like eating
anything, let alone something as strong as bear meat, but my mom’s
adventurous spirit, and the consistent expression of love through
nourishment was always appreciated on some level–even if it was hard
to tell as I chewed up “one more bite” of my rice
pilaf with my nose plugged to mask the taste.

Our family ate home cooked meals together nightly, and this mandatory
tradition is a big part of my concept of family. During a phone
conversation after the divorce, my mom told me that she never really
enjoyed cooking those meals. It wasn’t the fact that she didn’t like
cooking that stung, but rather that she had been dishonest about it for
over two decades, doing something she hated while I thought that loving
us in this way was something she enjoyed doing.

If all the instances of re-acquaintance were as uncomplicated and clean
as this innocent example, then my family’s transition would be so much
easier to bare. But of course, like any proper family drama, nothing is
simple. A sickly knot of revelations has settled in the hollow of my
throat, gagging me whenever I attempt to purge it. My inability to
express my feelings about these revelations (I’ve always been bad at confronting those I care about) results in more of them getting dumped on me. And the knot tightens further.

This past weekend spend visiting my family in Michigan did not leave me
wrecked–in fact, I actually enjoyed my stay, and in many ways it
revived me. I spent Friday happily splashing and swimming in the
seaweed-infested waters at my family cottage with my partner and my
thirteen-year old brother. That night we went to dinner with my
step-dad and sixteen-year old brother at The Clarkston Union, one of
our favorite restaurants. There we ran into one of Shaun’s lovely
sisters and her husband and we joined them to chew the fat (literally).

Saturday we went with Shaun’s parents to visit Shaun’s other sister and
our new nephew Noah, who got a kick out of chewing on my
ever-accommodating husband’s big Greek nose. Saturday night we visited
my biological dad’s new restaurant: a gourmet pizza place and deli
dubbed Renderoni’s. We met my grandparents there and gorged ourselves
on my dad’s delicious creations. Despite the many, many undesirable
qualities my dad possesses, one thing is for certain: the man can cook
and he knows food (and he’s got the gargantuan body to prove it).
Saturday night we visited my mom. It is always good to hug her, even if
her sadness haunts her lately.    

Leaving this morning, I was surprised not to feel my usual sense of
relief and escape as the train pulled out of the Pontiac station.
Instead I felt unsettled and sad. Perhaps because I did not cry myself
to sleep or get into a fight with my mom once during this trip I
realized that I may finally be able to recognize this new, updated
version of my family. And for once, it seemed like a strain for
everyone to say goodbye.
________________________________________________________

What change have you processed lately? How did you process it?

The Money Changers
© The Author, 2005

There are ways to live in an advertisement-saturated society without having your identity branded and your paycheck squandered. In fact, for the media literate, freebie hungry individual, product whoredom can be lucrative and fun; especially once you learn how to stop being the whore and start being the pimp.

Product trials of the past were quite limited, and they often indicated a puny size or a service with an expiration date. While this is still true for many items, there are plenty of products that are yours to keep. Thanks to my lovely partners pimping, we have a nice little harem of products that came to us free of charge from companies so desperate for our spending power and our brand loyalty that they let us come in the back door; we didn’t pay a cent for them. As of now, our freebie collection includes the following:

1.) One Gevalia Coffee Maker and two pounds of Gevalia Coffee
2.) $120 in Best Buy Gift Certificates
3.) Nintendo DS
4.) One iPod FM Transmitter
5.) Nintendo Games (a few)
6.) The complete Rush Hour French Lesson set on MP3
7.) A month of free movie rentals trials (provided by Netflicks and Blockbuster)
8.) A shoddy digital camera

And most recently, an iPod Mini!

All of these items came to us from my partner’s hobby of scouring the Internet for free products. Shaun is a tenacious lad, and he is someone who naturally gravitates to the fine print, which are exactly the qualities one needs to possess if they wish to pimp companies for free products. As a person who prefers the larger picture to the details, I am not cut out for this hobby, but for those who think they can rise to the challenge Shaun recommends anything4free.com. This website is a forum where you can get the scoop on companies currently offering free trials. Some of these trials—those that you avoid—cost money. There are also a few wimpy pimps who are not as attentive in their efforts to attain freebies who complain on this forum: ignore them. According to my partner, you can find great leads to freebies after sifting through these few deterrents.

The pimp approach to free trials and product giveaways is interesting because it gives the consumer the chance to demonstrate that they are sick of being loyal to companies; it is time for companies to start showing a bit of loyalty to the consumer. Advertising has come full circle it seems; it has mutated into a crazed, wild, and thrashing beast, and in the process it has overturned the tables of the traditional selling model.

While our homes may not be temples, they are sacred and sales pitches come hurtling into them unrelentingly. When Jesus found ancient dudes money changing in the temple, he got pissed and knocked their tables to the ground. Just don’t be like Jesus and scamper away from the situation without grabbing a little something for your trouble. After all, a pimp’s gotta get paid.

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What are your thoughts on advertising?