What on earth can our sated and bloated society still want? The streets during council collection days are littered with the consumables of yesterday.
Entire TV’s still in working order, unsoiled mattresses never even having witnessed a single act of conjugal bliss are being chucked out by the thousands, together with Alan keys, nests of coffee tables together with coffee bags and children’s see-saws, bicycles and triple story prams and cutlery .
This morning, while taking our Jack Russell ‘Milo” for a walk I tripped over an entire ham still in its plastic bag, it cost $ 38.50 and it was within 30 metres of the World Cricket Museum here in Bowral.
We waddle from consumable to consumable, hopelessly lost in greed and ignorant of real plight of others.
Throw away your credit card and heed the call to austerity, frugality and abstemiousness. Stop shopping.
Like lambs to the slaughter we waddle to our giant shopping malls and allow our wallets and credit cards to be swiped, wiped and walloped.
While our addiction to endless shopping might be waning; what are we going to replace it with?
Our whole way of life has been geared to endless shopping and spending. The large corporations have got us exactly where they need us to be; sedated and obedient, the perfect consumer. Of course, there is no relief from that. Watching the telly only reinforces by ads that we ought to go out quickly and drive somewhere and spend yet again. The endless drone ” just for me” and above all the primal scream “I want it now” from the Harvey store, still echos even after the Telly has been switched off. Especially our way of housing ourselves, miles away from life itself. It is no wonder we have taken to those Meccas of useless consumables.
It is going to be a hard road ahead.
So now the listless wandering about, picking up the broken bits of toys, the lost remnants of our nightmarish shopping spree, crunching the empty boxes of useless consumables, trying to fit into the yellow bin.
White Styrofoam bits still under the couch and dried out pavlova stuck to the fridge. Prawn shells wafting around still.
What a hangover, and now the credit card bill looms like the sword of Damocles, forever haunting and hounding us till the need of a shopping fix becomes too overwhelming and yet again we will succumb to the oh so sad trip to the God and cathedrals of our shopping addiction: the holy West field Mall.