8.16.2005

We don't have enough good stampedes

I saw this article today, and it kind of freaked me out.
Va. Laptop Sale Turns Into a Stampede
See, folks got a chance to buy 4-year-old ibooks for $50. Perfect opportunity as ever for a stampede, right?
Have we, as a culture, turned that final corner toward insanity? First, you have to ask yourself, why the hell would anyone wait in line to buy four-year-old macs? Is consumerism so ingrained in our genetic makeup?
Second, take a look at this quote:

Jesse Sandler said he was one of the people pushing forward, using a folding chair he had brought with him to beat back people who tried to cut in front of him.

"I took my chair here and I threw it over my shoulder and I went, 'Bam,'" the 20-year-old said nonchalantly, his eyes glued to the screen of his new iBook, as he tapped away on the keyboard at a testing station.

"They were getting in front of me and I was there a lot earlier than them, so I thought that it was just," he said.

You just have to marvel at the casual hatred and violence evinced from this statement. Plus, I love that the writer makes him come across as some sort of automoton with the critical thinking skills of a six year old and the kind of thought process that has us stuck in Iraq at the moment.
On to something completely unrelated: We broke Iraq, so regardless of all the hell that comes along, we have to stay there and fix it. If not, it will be an even more dangerous place than when we found it. We made ourselves sitting ducks for terrorists. They don't have to fly planes into buildings anymore when they can just detonate a roadside bomb and get four or five of us at a time.
Well, that was off topic, no? How can you still let this administration be in power when they completely pulled the wool over your eyes?! They have the blood of 1840 soldiers and tens of thousands of Iraqi civilians on their hands, and I think impeachment would be letting them off easy, frankly.
Excuse me for the rant. I don't know why I'm so riled up; I'm not even drinking.

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