Here’s my dilemma.
I love living in the “western world” (please do not get me started on the chick who was on “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader” the other week who could not answer the “What hemisphere is North America in?” Um? The Eastern Hemisphere? Um? Retarded? I swear I almost threw the TV off the patio… Also, it would also be nice if no one questioned just WHY I was watching “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader.” Please and thanks).
Living in the western world definitely has its perks. Especially being a woman. I can walk down the street as I please-- wearing nothing that would denote the lower status that I am lucky enough to not have, telling the government to go to hell, worshipping who I choose (or not) and making out with wall-eyed Irishman in the subway station, etc... Perk after perk after perk. And while I will likely never go so far as to join the armed forces to try and bring such perks to countries who may not have them (and who we feel should)… I like to think that deep down, some nations could stand to be brought into the 21st century, at least insofar as they treat their womenfolk.
But every so often, something occurs where I really question why we fight to maintain and justify the lifestyle we have grown accustomed to. It happens frequently actually. Designing and manufacturing gas guzzlers when there are already too many on the road and which we don’t have the fuel to make them run as it is springs to mind… movies with Billy Bob Thornton… Paris Hilton… Crocs… Sanjaya… etc... you get the picture.
So the question at hand…
Can I really defend a society that has spent countless years and millions of dollars on developing and marketing a spray-on salad dressing?
The answer my friends? Not very well and certainly not with any conviction.
Please do your part and resist purchasing what may be the laziest form of consumerism since disposable toilet brushes…
It’s not rocket science… It’s a salad.
Thank you for you attention in this matter. Please do not hesitate to contact me should you have any questions.
Kind Regards,
Beatrice Petty
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