Housewives! Have you taken to the online message boards recently, posting bleak, depressing notes of fear and uncertainty after your husband lost his job of 20 years and the kids are asking uncomfortable questions? Or maybe you're one of the super-wealthy, quaking in your Upper East Side Gucci riding boots over the collapse of your family fortune and self-esteem and who, pray who, will polish the fleet of Aston Martins?
Or perhaps you're none of these, and you're just a sweet young thing, still in your what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-the-world phase, with no real idea what the hell a "portfolio" or "recession" or "hedge fund manager" actually are, but it doesn't really matter because you're still stuck with this sinking feeling that Something Is Deeply Wrong.
Do you know this feeling? The sense that the bumbling, squinty-faced dude in the White House is about to step down, and this wrecked economy, this decimated nation, this toxic sickness will be his final parting gift, like some sort of nasty STD he and his cronies passed on to you, while you didn't even realize you were getting royally screwed?
Well, enough whining. It's time to buck up and hunker down and tighten your belts and employ all those other metaphors that indicate frugality, squeezing, smallness, bitterness and frustration and Zoloft and mom 'n' dad sighing heavily at the kitchen counter, staring at a stack of bills and then over at their kids' evaporated college fund and saying, well, I guess community college won't be that bad.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2008/10/15/notes101508.DTL
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