of all the cheesy cynicism
A Target catalogue arrived in the letter box today. Along with about 10 other catalogues, in addition to the 15 which arrived yesterday. Christmas anyone? Usually I turf all the catalogues straight into the recycling and mutter something to myself about hurrying up with that 'No Junk Mail' sticker, which I would have stuck on the letter box two years ago except that I wanted to sand it back and repaint it first...
Today I flicked through the pile to see what was there. A Colorado 20%-off-if-you-join-the-Fusion-Club card, Animal Tuckerbox (don't forget the pets this Christmas), Healthwise Pharmacy (in case you overindulge come Christmas dinner), Mr Rental (this has nothing to do with Christmas but we thought we'd take advantage of your propensity to throw more money around this time of year) and Target.
The Target catalogue was thicker than all the rest put together. Pages and pages of toys and cameras and DVDs and hampers and clothes and decor. Endless ways to swap your hard earned cash for something you don't really need. And then I read it: 'Hope' with the Target target in place of the 'o'.
Hope? You hope we'll target our money at your till? You hope we'll see lots of things we don't need and buy them anyway? You hope we'll give lots of things to others this Christmas, and of course source them all at Target?
I don't know about you, but hope isn't about consumer products as far as I can tell. In fact I have a funny feeling our love of consumer products is damning us at the moment. To climate change, and if you don't believe in that, to polluted water ways and plastic fantastic ill health, and debt and injustice, and oceanic dead zones and extinction...
But by all means, I hope you have a happy Christmas, filled with every imaginable gadget and piece of entertainment, because that's what it's all about isn't it? Not.
Labels: nablopomo 10