Buying Californication was one of the best ideas my 13-year-old self ever had.
Buying Californication was one of the best ideas my 13-year-old self ever had.
Cheer-yourself-up video of the day.
That guy totally doesn’t care what you think of his hair.
Love this thoughtful article on Salon by David Sirota. Specifically comparing Target and Trader Joe’s, this article deals with the idea that some chains may, in fact, be “better” than others. As a disclaimer, it’s clear that neither is perfect, but there is a thoughtful argument put forward that it’s better to have a Trader Joe’s than a Target.
“Trader Joe’s may be one of the biggest privately held companies doing business in America, but its stores are purposely designed to fit into — rather than take over – communities.”
One interesting factor that the article discusses is that Trader Joe’s is privately held, so it’s growth isn’t being pushed by needy investors (in fact, the chain has been growing at a slow but steady pace for some time now, compared to behemoth Target, which grows rapidly). This point made me think of one of my favorite articles ever – “A Physicist Solves the City” which ran in the New York Times Magazine back in 2010. (Written by the talented Jonah Lehrer.) Although the crux of the article doesn’t relate to Sirota’s argument, towards the end it discusses research that indicates that as corporations grow, the profit per employee shrinks.
The researchers posit that since corporations are under constant pressure to get bigger – from the top, not from within – they expand to the point where their profit per employee makes them overly vulnerable to market changes.
What do you think? Are there some stores that you feel good about shopping at, while others give you a slimy feeling? Do you think that companies lose their “soul” as they expand or go public? Would a co-op (which is employee-owned, so it grows from within) fare better than a corporation?
Confession: I love to shop.
I have this idea that enjoying shopping is the mark of a superficial person whose fallen for the corporate fairytale of more stuff, more happy – so I wish I didn’t love to shop. But I do. And when I envision my future self, and think about a more idealized version of my life that I would like to achieve – many important things (kids, marriage, career, oh my!) are out of focus, but one thing is clear: I’ll have nice stuff.

Honestly? I’m not so sure that aspect of my personality is going to change. And the constant guilt trip I’m giving myself is not helpful. I can’t think of a single person I interact with who doesn’t consume to some extent. So rather than reject this and go live in the wilderness (hi, Chris McCandless!) my goal has been to consume in an ethical way.
Right now, I think it’s easy for shoppers (myself included) to distance ourselves from how our absolutely-must-have-this-season purchases affect on the world community. After all, I don’t know the people who made my jeans, didn’t raise the chickens I eat, can’t possibly understand all the environmental and social effects of every product that bombards my senses on a daily basis.
But, I can learn some of the effects, for some of the items. And starting anywhere is better than nowhere. So consider this post the first of many that will consider what I buy, why I think I need it, and what it means in a larger perspective.
I don’t intend to totally reform myself and the way I’ve always operated. But I’m ready to start making small, conscientious changes.
What about you? Do you like to shop? Are there shopping behaviors you try to incorporate to lessen your impact? (And, let’s be honest, make yourself feel better?)
In case you don’t know me (unlikely, given the very limited readership of this blog) I love books. While I’m fond of my Kindle for its travel-friendly features, my true love is physical books. A natural extension of this is libraries, bookstores, and bookshelves.
I’ve long been collecting books, but this is impractical, both in terms of cost and space. So more recently I have begun collecting images of bookshelves.
I’m still working on putting mine together since I just moved and not all my books are sorted out yet, but I decided to go ahead and upload my shelf as is – I can always put another image when it’s finished and all exciting and full of the glamorous travel books I’m sure to have purchased. (And used, right? Right?)
So, without further ado, the first part in my collection:

MindHacks, one of my favorite blogs, had a post today arguing for the validity of post-natal depression in fathers.
I was really struck by what I think is a short & sweet response to an article which suggests that men are not capable of suffering from the same post-natal depression that women do. I strongly believe that sexism goes both ways. When we start to assign genders to personality traits, feelings, or mental illnesses, we inadvertently fence people out denying them the right to their feelings.
I think we face a thousand ethical dilemmas on a daily basis. Living in a city provides the opportunity to confront one of those dilemmas head on: do you give money to the pan-handler on the street?
One one hand, people argue, they’re probably just going to spend it on drugs or booze. On the other, it feels cold and compassion less to place yourself in the role of judge, deciding that someone isn’t worthy of the help your extra dollar has to offer.
Before I start, I feel obligated to note that beggars represent a very small percentage of the homeless population, with most of the population relaying on other means. In fact, it seems that even within the population of pan-handlers, few people solely rely on begging as their source of income. Additionally, despite the occasional wild rumor of pan-handlers who aren’t actually homeless, or ones who make $300 a day, it generally appears that beggars are just scraping by.
Which fits with my experiences on the street. On my way to work each morning, I pass at least three pan-handlers asking for change. On the way home, you can sometimes triple that number. I don’t even carry that much change.
My general policy is not to ignore them. It seems easier. It is easier, I’m sure, and yet there’s something truly undignified about being ignored by another human being, and I’m not comfortable being the source of that.
But…do I give them money? My inclination is no. Over on the Freakonomics Blog, writer and professor Arthur Brooks argues that it’s a value question: do I value the panhandler having the right to do what he wants with the money? To this, I think I have a clear answer: I value his right to do what he wants with HIS money. But not mine. It’s my prerogative to give money or keep it, and once I give it away, I have no right to dictate how it is spent. So ideally, I should spend it in a place where I’m confident on how they’ll use the money.
Additionally, Tyler Cowen makes the rarely considered argument (well, rarely considered by me, at any rate, since I can’t imagine anyone wanting to be a beggar) that if we continue to support panhandlers by giving them money, we’re making it a more lucrative career, and therefore preventing some beggars from perusing other avenues. Although I think this is a reasonable argument to consider, I’m not sure how accurate it is. There seems to be a lot of free that providing people with support will encourage them to fall down, but I’m skeptical that this is actually the case.
At the end of the day, it seems the overwhelming consensus is to give the money to charity, but then comes the second dilemma: am I actually going to do that? I find that a lot of people pay lip service to this cause, but in reality, I certainly don’t keep track of the money I didn’t give to beggars and spend it at a local charity.
So, as a new goal, should I pick a monthly amount that I can afford to donate? That leads us to the next question – where to donate? But that’s a blog post for another day.
Sources
Straight Dope, “How much money do beggars make?”
The Observer, “Charity for homeless tells people not to give money to beggars at Christmas”