Like everyone else I know, I grew up—really grew up, if I’ve ever actually grown up—in the Reagan 80’s. Take my childhood, please. Actually, it wasn’t all that bad. During the extreme periods of boom and busted, pro and convicts, the majority in the middle seldom feel the pain, they rarely see the cocked fists and hoisted heels. It’s the people on the poles, the haves and haven’ts, who taste the changes the have lesses can afford to ignore.
But now, after the 90’s—on the verge of oblivion, as always—we see ourselves being borne ceaselessly into the past. Same as it ever was. Those who have (as always) have more money than they know what to do with; they’ve gotten so good at counting it they need to make more just to keep up, they keep making it so that they will still have something to do. Capitalism isn’t wrong, but neither is intelligence: you cannot spend money and make money; someone is always paying the tab (and it’s usually the poor suckers who can’t spend it who take it in the ass so that anonymous, ancient bored members can pulverize their portfolios). It’s all about numbers. Like an army, like America. Whether you’re a company or a cult (like an army, like America), you simply want to amass enough manpower so that nothing else matters. Quality? Integrity? Originality? Nice, all, but they’ve got nothing on the numbers. When you’re big enough, you don’t have to beat anyone up, your rep precedes you and quells all contenders. You don’t have to fight anymore. Safety in numbers, sure, but there’s more at stake than simply survival—people are trying to make money.
In the 80’s, or any other time (like, say, today), you see the fat-walleted fuckheads trying to multiply their millions by any means necessary; they didn’t just disregard the reality of putting their foot on nameless faces to divide and conquer, they reveled in it. It wasn’t personal, it was strictly business, and it wasn’t their fault they excelled at it, it isn’t their fault they were born into this. The only responsibility they had was to ensure that all this affluence they had no part in amassing stayed safely outside the reaches of normal, taxpaying proletariat.
Let’s face it: it’s not as though the five or six folks who actually flip the switches and decide who gets what (after, of course, they’ve had theirs) ever consented to that sudden, and by all accounts inexplicable, turn of events in the mid-to-late ’90s. But that’s the thing: they couldn’t help it. They never saw it coming. I definitely didn’t see it coming. Yet, I saw it every time I looked at co-workers who looked like they just learned to shave: who could possibly have predicted this? The guys that—if they were lucky—were going to be chain restaurant managers and counter-jockeys at Radio Shack suddenly with keys to the kingdom, because they understood how the world-wide-web worked. The dot.com revolution was all about democracy, at least until we discovered that we were playing with Monopoloy money. And you better believe those unsettled old sons of bitches saw it too, (the people who play Monopoly for real don’t appreciate it when other people play their game) and became very interested in redirecting wealth back into the hoary hands of those used to handling it. How, they must have stayed awake during the day worrying, can this country continue to run right when so many regular people start getting involved? It happened before, in the 20’s, and if they had to eliminate alcohol for a few years then maybe it’s time to start confiscating computers. Or maybe we need to unplug the fucker, they thought.
Fortunately, a miracle occurred; all their prayers were answered. The country, led down the path of least resistance by the best and the brightest, soiled itself and we settled quickly into the next great recession. A gigantic reset button for those whose idea of trickle down economics is pissing on the collective heads of the middle and lower classes.
And now we’re back to the way we were: everyone is scared to lose their job these days, and it’s for all the wrong reasons. The lucky people who have jobs, that is. It’s back to paying bills and feeling the dread of not having you-know-what. For the few and the fortunate, it’s all about the money, because nothing ever changes. The money this and the money that. It’s not exactly a religion, it’s even better: You lose money to make money, you make money to make money, you take money to make money, you make up anything—to make money. Right now, as the new century sucks in its gut for the changing of the guard, unearned money hangs heavy in the air like encouraging ozone: a soft rain’s gonna fall eventually, inevitably, and everyone will wonder why they’re soaking wet and insolvent. Oh, wait, that already happened? Check them out: their fattened wallets broke their falls.
Check us out: we’re still playing the same game.
