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	The End of Empire Is Real Simple   August 2, 2005 Don't the excesses of our society quiver with an "End of the Empire" feel? I reckon we know what the ancient Romans felt when the Barbarians were at the gates of Rome and the oblivious citizenry rose to their feet in the Coliseum to demand ever more spectacle. We are witnessing the masses rise to their feet, seeking diversion and luxury even as the storm clouds gather on the horizon. Could anything exceed the tawdriness of Grand Theft Auto-type videogames in which violence, mayhem and degrading sex are paraded as "entertainment"? How about "reality television," in which participants hunger so cravenly for even fleeting fame that they willingly submit to swallowing worms and competing in "risky" cretin's games. You want to play "Survival"? Well how about joining one of the National Guard units in Iraq, or an NGO (non-governmental organization) relief mission in Iraq, if you prefer. A society which craves the molded-plastic "danger" on television but is so nonchalant about the dangers faced by 150,000 of its finest citizens in Iraq is not just blind; it is sick. No, Americans want their survival to be assured; risk isn't humping 90-pound bundles of shingles on a roof-- you might actually get hurt! Better to leave that real danger to immigrants and other faceless folks. Much better to prove yourself with a tattoo that hurts for a few minutes. You'll have to forgive us for being unimpressed with your bravery and vision and whatever else you reckon the little procedure means. Besides, your parents will pay to have it lasered off in a few years when it's no longer fashionable. Then there's the indulgences of a consumer religion truly run amok, in which the grossest waste and tackiest excesses are held on high like false gods: Hummers, a truly useless vehicle unless you live in Alaska or perhaps North Dakota, and even then you'd want a pickup truck, not a flat box with almost no storage capacity; ugly stucco-box McMansions, filled with rooms no one even steps foot in except to deposit more belongings; huge U-storage facilities in every suburb, to store whatever the bursting-to-the-seams garages can no longer hold. And for the few who actually read rather than watch 100 channels of vacuity, glazed-eyed, there are the magazines heralding the End of Empire: Real Simple and Outdoors, and dozens more of the same ilk, platforms for advertising to people with too much money and too much time, and no sense of urgency about anything but their next purchase. Sample article in Outdoors: "Luxury Camping: Five Star Comfort in the Wild." Is this what camping and the outdoors is all about, or is it merely blatant worship at the alter of the Consumer Gods? I somehow doubt John Muir or Thoreau would be waxing euphorically about how "five-star luxury" is really what Nature is all about, and how pathetic and shorn of beauty the redwoods are unless you're lounging in five-star comfort. As for Real Simple, the irony is so obvious that it strains credulity that someone would have the chutzpah to name a magazine chock-full of adverts aimed at the bourgeoisie "a guide to simple living." Doesn't it strike you that the first step towards a simpler lifestyle is getting rid of stuff, not buying more? And if you need a magazine to explain how you could own less stuff and be less harried, then you probably won't wonder why all this downsizing requires buying different (and always high-end) stuff. If there is anything to the notion of karma, then America could do with another financial depression in which the excesses are squeezed from an economy and a culture bloated with indulgence, debt and blind obedience to the Gods of Consumerism. Once you don't have any extra money or credit to spend, then your life tends to get Real Simple Real Fast. To anticipate a Great Unraveling is not an indulgence in schadenfreude; it's just anticipating the inevitable: what goes up must come down. * * * copyright © 2005 Charles Hugh Smith. All rights reserved in all media. I would be honored if you linked this wEssay to your site, or printed a copy for your own use. * * *
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