i just finished a great book called "A Massive Swelling: celebrity re-examined as a grotesque crippling disease, and other cultural revelations" by Cintra Wilson. there was one part in the book that made my heart hurt. it goes a little something a-like a-this:
" I was flying back to the United States from Jakarta, and I was listening to some obnoxious young woman, apparently an ad executive, talking to a couple of older guys, who were apparently also ad executives. Like me, she was on her way back from superimpoverished Indonesia.
"So i had this pair of shoes," she was saying in the hyperanimated, entitled-to-your-rapt-attention way that spoiled little girls who get older always have, "and let me tell you, they smelled SO BAD, i decided to leave them behind! So i'm taking these shoes out of my bag near this village and these people started RUNNING up to me and saying 'Nike American! Nike American!' and offering me trades! So I was like, "sure, i'll take that sarong-i'll take that wall clock- I'll take that and that!" She began laughing, and the two older men started laughing with her.
"This woman finally tried my shoes on," she continued, "and I kid you not, she started to walk to work in them and she was CRYING. Tears- i'm not kidding you- were rolling down her face."
"Nike American!" said one of the men as an explanation- subtext: Best Shoes in the world! why, I'd cry too; who wouldn't?
"Yep! The real McCoy!" said the girl.
The whole exchange turned me so emotionally sideways, I wanted to hit both of them with a nine-iron until they didn't move anymore. I really go crazy with hatred when the overprivileged act like they are the only three-dimensional entities in the world and everyone else is an amusing finger puppet, doing some crazy backward nigger dance for their enjoyment.
...36 percent of all retail Nikes are made in Indonesia, by young women who work fifty hours a week for a starting rate of two dollars a day, a wage they can't live on. It would take most Indonesian villagers around two months to earn a pair of Nikes, and that's if they didn't spend any money eating or living. Nike may have suffered a little stockwise when this fact came out, but not enough to seriously dent the Nike superstructure or cause them to Repent. The 250 million dollars that Nike spent on advertising in 1994 has successfully brainwashed all world ghettos, even the very people that Nike itself is keeping below the poverty line: Nikes are the magic shoes, the real McCoy; they can make you jump so high you can catch a glimpse of that world on luminous billboards and the international power-glow of MTV. Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods can buy as much of Georgia as they want to, while one-third of all other black males in America are in jail; many of them are then forced to stitch sportswear for two dollars a day. Nike American. Show your love for Michael Jordan, own a true piece of the hero, share the diamond-studded frame with the face of god. "
" I was flying back to the United States from Jakarta, and I was listening to some obnoxious young woman, apparently an ad executive, talking to a couple of older guys, who were apparently also ad executives. Like me, she was on her way back from superimpoverished Indonesia.
"So i had this pair of shoes," she was saying in the hyperanimated, entitled-to-your-rapt-attention way that spoiled little girls who get older always have, "and let me tell you, they smelled SO BAD, i decided to leave them behind! So i'm taking these shoes out of my bag near this village and these people started RUNNING up to me and saying 'Nike American! Nike American!' and offering me trades! So I was like, "sure, i'll take that sarong-i'll take that wall clock- I'll take that and that!" She began laughing, and the two older men started laughing with her.
"This woman finally tried my shoes on," she continued, "and I kid you not, she started to walk to work in them and she was CRYING. Tears- i'm not kidding you- were rolling down her face."
"Nike American!" said one of the men as an explanation- subtext: Best Shoes in the world! why, I'd cry too; who wouldn't?
"Yep! The real McCoy!" said the girl.
The whole exchange turned me so emotionally sideways, I wanted to hit both of them with a nine-iron until they didn't move anymore. I really go crazy with hatred when the overprivileged act like they are the only three-dimensional entities in the world and everyone else is an amusing finger puppet, doing some crazy backward nigger dance for their enjoyment.
...36 percent of all retail Nikes are made in Indonesia, by young women who work fifty hours a week for a starting rate of two dollars a day, a wage they can't live on. It would take most Indonesian villagers around two months to earn a pair of Nikes, and that's if they didn't spend any money eating or living. Nike may have suffered a little stockwise when this fact came out, but not enough to seriously dent the Nike superstructure or cause them to Repent. The 250 million dollars that Nike spent on advertising in 1994 has successfully brainwashed all world ghettos, even the very people that Nike itself is keeping below the poverty line: Nikes are the magic shoes, the real McCoy; they can make you jump so high you can catch a glimpse of that world on luminous billboards and the international power-glow of MTV. Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods can buy as much of Georgia as they want to, while one-third of all other black males in America are in jail; many of them are then forced to stitch sportswear for two dollars a day. Nike American. Show your love for Michael Jordan, own a true piece of the hero, share the diamond-studded frame with the face of god. "
VIEW 12 of 12 COMMENTS
Did you get your psycho boyfriend thingy worked out? Check out my journal. I learned how to deal with that stuff last week so I can point you in the right direction if ya want.
Sorry to hear about the show. Here's hoping Tiger Army come back around headlining!!
Re: Where our clothes come from. It bothers me a great deal that most of the clothing we wear comes at the expense of people in third world countries. I try and comfort myself with the fact that most of my clothes are cheap clothing from Kohls (so the fat cats arn't making THAT much off of me...) and my most expensive peice of clothing, my boots, are made in the US (Yeah Corcorans!).