Vernon SikesNo doubt about it. Money's tight.
How tight is it?
It's so tight I recently counted at least 10 high rollers standing on the roadside next to their luxury vehicles holding signs that said, “Will grovel for gas!” Two were politicians. Their signs read, “Will pretend I feel my constituents pain for gas ... and I approve this sign!”
Yep! Things are tough all over.
I came dangerously close to hitting a deer the other day as I drove to town. Probably would have hit the poor wretch, but the look I saw in those two dark eyes told me that it knew full well I couldn't afford a big body shop bill. It loped on across the road, I thanked it, and we both went our separate ways.
Almost daily, we're exposed to at least one radio or TV spot espousing ways to save money. Cook at home often, make your own coffee, brown bag it, eat before going grocery shopping, walk instead of driving when possible, make a shopping list, blah-blah-blah.
I tuned in a public radio station the other day just in time to hear the closing few minutes of a show dealing with managing money. As the announcer listed 30 ways to save money, I noted that Main Most and I had long used practically all 30 methods.
And money's still squeaky tight around our digs!
To make it through these lean times, the creative individuals will probably fare the best.
They are the ones who aren't satisfied with playing around when it comes to saving money. They already make their own coffee but it's undrinkable. They cook at home but it's inedible. They brown bag it but they'd rather eat dirt. If you can't make coffee, you can't cook and you can't even make a decent sandwich, why make a shopping list, why go to the grocery store and why worry about whether you walk or ride?
We've got to get creative.
How about trying your hand at getting on a reality show.
You could probably save a bundle on your house cleaning budget if you were to pretend you are a hoarder. All you would have to do would be to do a little scavenging in a dumpster, stack bunches of the dumpster junk throughout your house, cry when the show's host asks you what it is in your background that forced you to be a total loser, and throw a screaming fit when the cleaning crew tries to throw out the dead cat's carcass that's stuck to the floor under your kid's bed.
Just think! Your entire house will be cleared of all the stuff you've put off throwing away for years, deep-cleaned and set back up good as new. Some hoarding reality shows even throw in new furniture.
For free … if you can cry on cue, that is.
Crying is really “in” on reality shows … as much so as the audience's hollering and screaming on early morning and game shows.
Take a vacation in sunny California by pretending that you have a totally dysfunctional family whose kids, all 15 of them, are living in squalor and selling bracelets made of orange peelings so they can keep their unmarried, alcoholic and dyslexic parents in crack cocaine.
Television's talk show hosts salivate at the prospect of getting defective folks like that on their shows and, best of all, they'll pay big money to get them there and put them up in royal style.
The only prerequisite is being able to cry on cue. And the more pain and angst in your facial expressions as you weep big crocodile tears, the better.
You've got to adapt to the times. The excesses of earlier decades … kaput! Everybody's feeling the pinch. You've got to put yourself out there.
Rather like the aforementioned 10 high rollers. Took guts to get out there and grovel for gas. Probably would have gone better for them if they had been shedding a few tears.
For all but the two politicians, that is. It'll take lots more than tears for anyone to stop to help them.
And I approve of that statement.