It occurs to me in the midst of all the economic doom and gloom, that these days I represent the worst nightmare of the commercial world at large. I make a healthy amount of money, yet I have no debt, I drive little in my 12-year-old car, I rarely buy new clothes or… well, much of anything. I’ve been to a grand total of about 5 movies in the past year, I generally only buy CDs when it’s directly from the artist at the show, and I get nearly all my books used. I don’t invest in the stock market past my 401k/superattenuation plans, and I have no plans to buy a house in the immediate future. Pretty much the only industries I support with any regularity are utilities and food service.
I am, in fact, part of the problem. I am a black hole in the global economy.
Apart from last night, when we blew ungodly amounts of money on alcohol and grossly overpriced bar hot dogs. While our resulting kick line in the middle of the bar to Sinatra’s ‘New York, New York’ probably did little for the economy, I imagine it stimulated the amusement of everyone present.
Current Read: Mountaineering Essays – John Muir