It's easy to skim through Buzz KillingtonBissinger's GQ mise-en-scène, and chalk up his mid-life desires to be incarnated as a gaudy, overpriced Italian leather couch to the usual tedious gaggle of White People Problems. Which is exactly the sum total of it, including Bissinger's sexual and sartorial experimentations.
But since I view the world strictly through an economic prism these days, the ongoing contest between the haves and have-mores, and the occasional crumbs that might fall from their $13,900 ostrich leather jackets, are more interesting.
This morning, I had to negotiate with two (2) of my student-loan companies, because since despite earning the highly coveted EmmBeeAyy, I still have yet to find a job that pays more than subsistence level. (Fortunately, the third loan company I owe the bulk of my student loans to kindly gave me a seven-month deferment a couple months ago.)
The most frustrating part about being victimized by the rentier class is that, since I've only been able to make minimal interest payments -- payments that, incidentally, if I could get done with them I would have more discretionary income to put out into the local economy, rather than into the pockets of faceless finance weasels -- so far, I actually owe substantially more than I did a couple years ago.
With the salary that all the finance gurus (you know, the same ones that tell you you're a freespending dipshit if you don't have a year's worth of income socked away, along with regularly contributing to you 401k) insist I should be making, I could get completely paid out in probably 3-4 years. But those jobs don't exist, and the ones that do have people hanging onto them longer, because retirement is more risky, and when they do come online there's 200 people competing for them, and on and on.
Higher education: Grab yer ankles, kids, this one's going to leave your ass red and raw for a good long time. Trust me on that one. Do yourself a favor -- drop out today and start writing "mommy porn" for bored suburban hausfraus. Use old Penthouse letters for source material.
So it is heartening to know, while I watch my life twist in the fucking wind, that there are pampered swells out there who can blow through six hundred grand in a couple years, in a futile attempt to fill an imaginary hole in their soul with animal skins dyed in loud colors. I mean, it's kinda funny to watch a grown-ass man in his mid-fifties turn into a shameless leather queen, instead of getting a red Porsche and finding a coed to bang, like the rest of us. But conspicuous, mindless consumption, especially in the service of self-actualization, is always going to be off-putting. Imagine something like this being written by or about, say, Sarah Palin -- or better yet, Karl Rove.
[Pro tip for the very end of the article: Patrón is top-shelf stuff -- you don't need to adulterate it with lime and salt.]
But since I view the world strictly through an economic prism these days, the ongoing contest between the haves and have-mores, and the occasional crumbs that might fall from their $13,900 ostrich leather jackets, are more interesting.
This morning, I had to negotiate with two (2) of my student-loan companies, because since despite earning the highly coveted EmmBeeAyy, I still have yet to find a job that pays more than subsistence level. (Fortunately, the third loan company I owe the bulk of my student loans to kindly gave me a seven-month deferment a couple months ago.)
The most frustrating part about being victimized by the rentier class is that, since I've only been able to make minimal interest payments -- payments that, incidentally, if I could get done with them I would have more discretionary income to put out into the local economy, rather than into the pockets of faceless finance weasels -- so far, I actually owe substantially more than I did a couple years ago.
With the salary that all the finance gurus (you know, the same ones that tell you you're a freespending dipshit if you don't have a year's worth of income socked away, along with regularly contributing to you 401k) insist I should be making, I could get completely paid out in probably 3-4 years. But those jobs don't exist, and the ones that do have people hanging onto them longer, because retirement is more risky, and when they do come online there's 200 people competing for them, and on and on.
Higher education: Grab yer ankles, kids, this one's going to leave your ass red and raw for a good long time. Trust me on that one. Do yourself a favor -- drop out today and start writing "mommy porn" for bored suburban hausfraus. Use old Penthouse letters for source material.
So it is heartening to know, while I watch my life twist in the fucking wind, that there are pampered swells out there who can blow through six hundred grand in a couple years, in a futile attempt to fill an imaginary hole in their soul with animal skins dyed in loud colors. I mean, it's kinda funny to watch a grown-ass man in his mid-fifties turn into a shameless leather queen, instead of getting a red Porsche and finding a coed to bang, like the rest of us. But conspicuous, mindless consumption, especially in the service of self-actualization, is always going to be off-putting. Imagine something like this being written by or about, say, Sarah Palin -- or better yet, Karl Rove.
[Pro tip for the very end of the article: Patrón is top-shelf stuff -- you don't need to adulterate it with lime and salt.]
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