Unfathomable Miscellany
Felix Thursday
Who Do They Think They're Fooling, You?
Recently I was outside of a well-known health food store in
Sebastapol, CA. As I was lighting a cigarette, a man who seated on a
bench behind me said, "I wouldn't smoke here if I were you. I was
smoking and someone came out and told me that I had to move 40 feet
away from the building." "Don't listen to those pseudo-hippies," I
responded, "Tell them to fuck off! The curb of the parking lot is only
3 feet from here. Do they think that a couple of cigarettes emit as
much carbon monoxide as the 50-plus cars going in and out of this
parking lot? I wonder if they know that marijuana smoke causes a lung
cancer specific otherwise only to asbestos. How would those post-60's
charlatans react if Janis Joplin was out in front of their stupid
fucking store sucking on a bottle of Southern Comfort while she was
getting oral sex from a Hell's Angel? Or if Jerry Garcia was having a
cardiac arrest in the potato chip aisle from an overdose of cocaine
and high cholesterol?" Before I could tell the guy about the
"Dolphin-Safe Tuna Fallacy", he got up and left. I guess that he was
overwhelmed by me giving him too much to think about.
The primary concern of health food stores, it seems, is making a
healthy profit. This is done covertly by promoting a fictitiously
benevolent lifestyle. Tantric Yoga workshops, week-long "vision quest"
excursions, "healing" retreats, psychic "faires", and "spirituality"
gift shops honor and resemble ancient customs about as much as Lord of
the Dance. They are, however, just about as profitable, too.
Anymore I am failing to see the distinction between these lame
fucking health food stores and corporate supermarkets. Most of them
have delis, frozen food sections and beer aisles now--the differences
are becoming increasingly subtle. There are magazines up by the
register--only instead of Better Homes and Gardens, there's Yoga
Journal (or some insipid equivalent). You place your food on a
conveyor belt, it's checked into the register via barcode...you're
just interacting with some Star-Bellied Sneetch with tribal piercings
and overalls instead of a Teflon-haired corporate automaton.
Pretty soon they'll have pharmacies and archaic machines that
check your blood pressure. Better yet, they'll install medical
marijuana centers and have clairvoyant Gypsy women with crystal balls
to tell your fortune. Anyway, my point here is: who do they think
they're fooling? This lifestyle is becoming more and more about
materialism, and less and less about ideology.
For example:
Pair of Birkenstocks: $85
Piece of shit late 1970's Volvo: $1500
Van Morrison Moondance CD: $15
Ticket to Health and Harmony festival: $18
"Visualize World Piece" bumper sticker: $2
Average cost of becoming a fucking hippie: $1627
(And that's only the low introductory rate. At least you'll save money
on personal grooming expenditures).
One more thing...I am so sick of seeing fucking "Free Tibet"
bumper stickers! What the fuck are those supposed to accomplish
anyway? Like the Chinese ambassador is going to see those--in Sonoma
County, no less--and reconsider his country's affront on Tibet. Yeah,
right! Most of the fucking morons with those stickers probably
couldn't point Tibet out to you on a map. They're about as intelligent
and effective as those stupid "Calvin pissing" stickers you see
everywhere, too. They succeed, at most, in preaching to the already
converted (who probably know nil about most of what they espouse).
Another time when I was in Sebastapol (yes, I'm picking on
Sebastapol), I went in to a so-called "vintage" clothing store in
search of a pink pyramided belt for my girlfriend's birthday. I
couldn't find one, so I asked the woman who was working if there were
any other "thrift stores" within a close proximity. Much to my
surprise, the woman's face took on a look of disdain as she
reproachfully instructed me that her establishment was not a "thrift
store", it was a "vintage clothing" shop. "What's the difference," I
asked, really not knowing. Then she told me some bullshit about how
she only carries "fine clothing". "Oh yeah, like this 'fine' Eddie
Money tour shirt from 1984?", I countered, and walked out in a state
of disgust.
People who own and operate so-called vintage clothing stores are
the devil. They're capitalist vultures who prey on Salvation Army
stores, then mark up their clothing (which usually isn't even that
cool) 500%. It vexes me that they have denigrated what used to be one
of my favorite pastimes by exploiting it for a profit. It used to be
fun going to thrift stores and buying orange polyester bell-bottomed
suits for three dollars--now, it's practically humiliating. The same
people who used to make fun of you for wearing "weird" clothes are now
shoving you out of the way to buy some dead old guy's stuff, then
turning around and selling it for way more than it's worth. Not only
that, but they're pompous about it. How can you be fucking pompous
about rummaging through dead old people's refuse? It's like something
out of a Gogol novel. Who do they think they're fooling?
The people who shop at "vintage" clothing stores are almost as
bad. Retro-obsessed morons who make shitty martinis, listen to the
fucking Squirrel Nut Zippers and embrace a legacy that certain, more
intelligent, members of our generation have striven to efface.
We are living in the midst of an exterior counter-culture. Our
generation is replete with pseudo-rebellious posers who adorn
themselves externally with a variety of fashion accessories and
indulge in inane activities while they remain as internally complacent
and contemplative as Tipper Gore. Knock on their hollow heads and you
are likely to hear some sophist rhetoric they read on a bumper sticker
or overheard at a cafe, but little else beyond that.
We're fostering a future of superficial cyborgs who are more
concerned with being cool than contributing to actual change. Eyebrow
piercings, belly button rings, dyed hair and tattoos make you about as
rebellious as Pepsi.
We're still leaving it up to others to sink or swim before we
test the waters ourselves. As far as agents of the devil like "vintage
clothing" and health food proprietors go, it should come as no
surprise that they're eager to accept your business--they're
petit-bourgeoisie capitalists. You're keeping them in business, what
are they doing for you? Apply a little scrutiny to their motivations.
Are they supporting local and underground art and music, or are they
just making a buck off of it? They're taking from you and what you're
a part of, how much are they giving back?
As far as those annoying bandwagon-boarding bastards, you can't
really do anything about them (that I'd advise in print anyway). You
can just hope that they learn something eventually. Always ask
yourself: "Who do they think they're fooling? Me?".
This article appeared in section M magazine, Issue #16, September 2000
and The Elusive Leather Pirate, Michael Houghton, wrote a response
(using a female pseudonym) in the guise of a letter to the editor in
the next issue. The Pirate's from Sebastapol and drives a piece of
shit late-1970s Volvo, see. But this article is not about The Elusive
Leather Hoo-Tawn.
