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  Texas : Feature : Columns : 'The View from Under the Bus'

*“Buy, Buy, Says the Sign in the Shop Window,
Why, Why, Says the Junk in the Yard.”

By Gael Montana - Junque Connoisseur
Just for fun try muting your TV during the commercials and, I promise, many of them won't make a lick of sense. What they're selling often remains a mystery but they can be amusing in spite of that. My dear friend Mauve and I have been trying to figure out the attraction between the two elderly people making moon-eyes at one another while going all prunish in their respective bathtubs, for example. Are they KIDDING? What the heck are they doing with bathtubs outside, anyway? Are they on an apartment building construction site? Another ad features several middle-aged women acting like children in need of a time out. They run through yards spinning and tossing leaves over their heads or frolicking in old-fashioned tree swings, hair hanging upside down, feet reaching for the sky. Excuse me please, but can you picture the reaction you and I might get from exhibiting this behavior? Maybe we could have pulled it off in the 60's or 70's (and likely did) but these days it would probably win you a ticket to the funny farm. Just try skipping along the grocery aisle on, let's say, the day before Super Bowl; Here we go, humming and singing and flipping our hair as we joyously carom from shopper to shopper, knocking over various stacks of bonus items. Since you probably had to park about 100 yards from the door, how about a breezy ride on the cart. Sailing down hill through the parking lot with one foot lifted gracefully behind you like an energetic ballerina! Painful traction and fatal embarrassment come to mind, but I digress.

What we're really trying to decipher, here, is the true purpose of these endless ads. It's hard to tell if they're aiming to appeal to the buyer or to outdo other marketers. Are they striving for some kind of award? You find lot's of singing animals, 4X4's speeding off road in areas you wouldn’t take a tank and always plenty of scantily clad individuals kind of standing around in the wind looking off.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all about marketing. If we weren't buying more than we need those countless moving companies, storage outfits and garbage concerns would be out of luck. What would we do with those handy, stackable rubber bins and whiz-bang see-through snap top boxes? They're building entire developments on the landfills of our discontent so we'd better get busy flinging things. We have 20 gallon bags to fill and at a curbside maximum of 5 per household that's only, er...100 gallons a week of erroneous stuff to jettison!

My Mom and I make little horned toads and lizards and whatever else out of tin cans then paint them all different colors just for fun. Sometimes she makes clever earthquake indicators, candle holders or dream-catchers for a change of pace. It's a kind of wigged-out recycle project that makes us very happy. We could probably build a barn out of all the tin cans we've saved or been given and may do that very thing one day. She has always stood by the saving of things as a waste-not want-not measure and I'm sure she's right. Folks raised during the depression learned to do with what they had and what they had wasn't much. The trick is to not save more than you can ever, in a lifetime, use. Therein, as they say, lies the rub.

The goals I strive toward are these: 1.) Use up all the stuff in the bunkhouse 2.) Give away anything that's useful 3.) Provide for my critters 4.) leave nothing but a clean house, fat birds and reasonably comfortable furniture behind. It probably won't happen, but I can dream. Maybe Mom & I can come up with a working formula for scaling down and sell it on QVC!

* lyrics from ‘Junk’ by the Beatles

Copyright Gael Montana
'The View from Under the Bus'
November 8 , 2007 Column
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