America celebrates youth and nominal hedonism, As the worker is also good for consumerism, But any event that wants to happen, Must find a corporate sponsor, or is an ill-fated contraption;
Sponsors sponsor sponsors, so to speak, And the layered levels of advertisement, seem to expand every week;
The McDonald's chain carries Coke, and advertises it too, And Coke by turns quadruples the ante, By sticking an ad wherever it may fancy— Enough commercial stimuli to make your face blue;
The supermarkets have redoubtable shopping carts, Bearing ads to pierce the subconscious like darts, The sponsors of which have an agreement, To the supermarket ad space reciprocally to rent;
The websites carry a "commercial," or would have to charge a fee, But the crafty ones do both, to take in more money;
The "public" TV stations have gone over to corporate sponsors, But what is worse, that or the malaise, which the never-ending telethonconfers?
There is an advertising industry, and that's no exaggeration, And purchasing and buying, wherein the young and women reign, Is for every problem its explanation;
Some find the malls a nice experience, Sanitary, clean, antiseptic, yet expensive, So some people go merely to find a "sale," Whereas the moneyed elite are not so sensitive;
The malls prove profitable, atleast for a few, Who, although trumpeting the "free market," Use the taxpayers through incremental funding, The way others use the lieu! But the hype and media hype about jobs and business, Is but a profitable smokescreen, for wages that can buy less and less;
The awkward years of teen peer pressure, Are fueled by consumer desire, Each one being a replica, for others their own social worth to measure;
And school and homework are subordinate, but some would place education higher;
So the right-wing criticizes hedonism, as if the workers were abandoningtheir jobs, and being lazy like the idle rich, They say, "ain't that a bitch," while lowering their sites to overlookthe wealthy;
But instead what should be denounced, As the work week lengthens, Is the slavish nature of leisure, compulsory consumption, Which is not allowed unless it the economy somehow strengthens;
Saturday evening, for the "party animal" (a species rather neglected by zoologists) is the moment, When every teen--and even some of the older folks--bears a sad thought component, "Will I be having fun tonight?" Their self-esteem being so susceptible to indict;
Therefore, any economists who at the inability to save money marvel, Needn't be dwelling on any theory, And should not advise or criticize, Just turn on the TV and to Disneyworld travel;
The holidays, as is clear, are marketing bonanzas, That tend to displace Christmas cheer;
The "shopping season" astarts just after Thanksgiving, But instead of Yuletide, holly, Noel and O Tannenbaum, We have mostly-through-gadgets-and-toys materialistic living, As if there were nothing more to the tradition, Than the mean ambition of status competition, (See how these Christians love one another?) So be there but little cheer and more rivalry in the house, You could not say, "Die Freude der Kinder breitet sich an den Eltern aus";
Halloween, Easter and Valentine's Day, Are so full of chocolate and candy, That old customs fade into obscurity, For instance, the symbolism of eggs at Easter as fertility, Supplanted somehow by the "Easter Bunny";
As for me, I hold it to be a vice, To celebrate such materialism at such a high price, When Christmas toys are forgotten in a few weeks (a sad reminder to the waning attention of parents), And the corporation for charity arrogantly speaks, though not revealing its own interests, And constantly urges on, like excessive hormone, The money of the poor and semi-poor it seeks;
As for the wealthy regarding charity, It is no secret, They believe the money is theirs, so refuse to part with any of it!
So to me the value of consuming counts not much, I'd rather cultivate virtue, as such, I do enjoy the merriment of holidays, however, So be it a little too materialistic, Rather than a heart-felt endeavor, Still, "a thing of beauty is a joy forever."
John Fleming is the author of The War of All Against All.