Wednesday, September 24, 2008
I don't know whether to laugh or cry
The inner workings of the current financial crisis remain somewhat opaque to me. I can grasp some of the analogies offered up by those writers who seem to understand it, but I’m not sure what to believe in an era where spin has been honed to such a precision I might question whether or not I’m actually breathing if I read the right source.
But I knew I didn’t need a credit card with a $20,000 limit when I was 18 in exchange for a free T-shirt when I was making less than $5/hr working in a dairy plant. Something seemed strange about the zealousness in which these well-dressed pretty people snaked their way through the courtyards with a clipboard and a nicely set-up tent near by. But they are there – on nearly every campus all of the time. No one seems to question the wisdom of handing masses of kids the unfettered ability to grievously wound an economy or themselves financially for a lifetime. But they sure as hell better not get caught swigging a beer back in the dorm room.
I get bombarded with offers to refinance my house continually by the company who supposedly gave me the best offer to begin with. I suppose tag lines including “urgent” or the use of increasing font size is going to drive me to the bargaining table. They always failed to mention how in the long term they could raise the interest rate exorbitantly to the point I couldn’t pay it. I’m not “high risk.” I’m not rich either. I’m just skeptical of those who “should” be helping me when their intention belies nothing of the sort. I trust people to do for me the things I cannot, just like everybody else here. I don’t need to be told financial ruin is my fault because I took some bad advice. I need someone to watch my back – I can make enough stupid decisions on my own without someone prodding me over the edge because they’ll stand to turn a profit from it.
Somebody or something is going to get the blame, although we can probably guess which end of the totem they reside at. Given the season, what better time for some finger-pointing from any side? It seems like someone offered us a great chance to go and f*ck ourselves on a nice silver platter courtesy of a whole lot of people who knew better.
Mission Accomplished.
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