09.06.05 - 3:29 p.m.

I was reading a review of Barbara Ehrenreich's new book Bait and Switch (in which I have no interest. Nickeled and Dimed was excellent, but this subject matter is less compelling and the "experiment" is much less interesting. I don't think most people really understand how hard it must be to make a living - any sort of living, the most modest of livings - working in the lower echelon of the many "service industry" (to use the most popular euphemism) jobs created by the economy over the last 15 years and therefore, Nickeled and Dimed was worthwhile...) and found the second sentence of the two-sentence blurb about the reviewer perfectly absurd:

He is writing a book on whether American democracy still works.

Good on you! I hope he can give us a simple up or down answer, yes or know - or come up with something sufficiently outrageous so as to land him on Larry King Live once we've all wearied of hurricane coverage. I can see the lede coming back from the commercial break, all in yellow letters:

Larry King will hunch forward, announce the lede on return from the commercial break, and segue into a series of inane questions that reveal little interest in the topic or the book. The academic in question will soldier on, because as horrible as the interview is, it gets his book on national television and amazon.com purchases will increase and maybe some lesser academic at some lesser school will make room in his syllabus for the book and "Whither American Democracy?" will speak smartly to its tiny audience while the concept of democracy - more than merely the exercise of the vote, but perhaps also the ideal of a public space not dominated by moneyed interests and aristocratic pretty-boys and pretty-girls who are committed to x or y (or not - but find it convenient cover) and family dynasties and the mediocre who are willing to praise each other as more-than mediocre. Public space that speaks to everyone: represents our interests, short and long term, where listening happens almost as much as talking.

Strangely enough, I popped by Sprawl-Mart late last night on my way home from dinner. Such a hypocrite: I dislike the company's omnipresence and pressure on producers to slash costs (and hence salaries: or to move offshore and source everything at fly-by-night factories in China without wage controls, employment rights, health insurance, pensions, and so on, but the sheer variety of things at my local Super Sprawl-Mart lures me back every time. Last night, for example, I wanted: mums to plant in the yard, solar-powered landscape lighting (hoping the good stuff might be on clearance), fresh flowers, and groceries - produce, frozen foods, dairy, and so on. I found everything except the landscape lighting: the indoor garden section has been cleared out and is now occupied by a. more Halloween costumes, decorations, and accessories than I have ever seen in my whole entire life; and b. some of the ugly, weirdo, expensive Christmas decorations that must have a pretty good profit margin - a talking animatronic Santa Claus of your VERY OWN for your home and gigantic (as in: six-and-a-half-foot-plus) plastic lighted "Snow Globes" for your lawn, which are super classy, let me tell you.

I found the mums (and good thing I stopped, since the selection was a bit depleted and I need something in some of my - uh - neglected potses now that I'm no longer neglecting the yard) and the vases and the cottage cheese and so on and ducked into the "Drink Mixes/Fruit Juice/Clearance Crap" aisle to look for Crystal Light, but paused to browse the "clearance" foods when I met Roger.

Roger roger roger. Roger, too, poked his head into the "Drink Mixes/Assorted Crapola" aisle to check out the clearance section, and, breaking the inherent supermarket rule that you do no more than smile (if that) to acknowledge the existence of the other people in the store, commented that the markdowns were often minimal, but he still checked the clearance stuff every time to see if there was a bargain.

In person, I am much less fearless than I am in my head. (Not to say that I walk around thinking myself unselfconscious: I simply mean that I don't get caught-up in every six-pack thought-circle floating my idealogical way.) And so: rather than concurring heartily with Roger and inviting lifelong confidences over the price of clearance vodka sauce or matzo breadcrumbs, I offered a vague smile over my basketful of almost-blooming mums, cottage cheese and soy milk (see: I started at the back of store and shopped toward the frozen foods at the front), and agreed.

Somehow, Roger took that as an invitation to launch into an unsophisticated but very well informed tirade about the economic sins of Republicans and the ways in which the rich used the cover of Christianity to secure the support of working people (often to their later chagrin). At first, Roger was circumspect regarding the political party inspiring his ire ("I won't say which one but you know it."), but encouraged by my hapless (if heartfelt) mutters of support, he grew more bold. And he just kept talking.

I can't begin to do his rant justice - and I agree with him on (most of) his points: that the difference in wealth between the topmost 1% and the rest of the country is a danger to democracy. It creates a defacto aristocracy that operates in its own interest and cannot connect with the majority, understand the day-to-day worries and struggles of the lower-middle and working-classes (or, heck, even the middle and upper middle classes), or engage in any sort of meaningful dialogue about the direction in which the nation is heading. Heck, I'd go further: the professional class (maybe we need a new class language?) is considerably more disconnected from the people whom they serve (intermittently or on a day-to-day basis) more than ever before, and tend to misidentify their own interests with those of the upper echelon (that 1% - which only a few doctors and lawyers and accountants and businessmen can ever hope to join, no matter how many shiny granite countertops and customized fridges-that-look-like-furniture they buy).

He just kept talking and talking and talking - and it was late and I still had shopping to do and groceries to put away and so on. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to escape because there was no end to his rant: one minute he was ranting about the economic divide, the next minute he was making the left-fringe claim that Diebold rigged the Ohio vote. [Which I don't believe... nasty Republican dirty tricks to prevent likely Democrats from voting notwithstanding). At some point, I managed to get away and wander down the aisle... only to realize that the Crystal Light was opposite the clearance stuff, where he was still standing! I looked; he caught my eye; I debated - but I really REALLY wanted some goddamned lemonade, so I returned and - sure enough - got caught for more sermonizing. I didn't escape the second time until some-other-guy-he-knew showed up and said hello, but then I escaped - gladly.

Whatever. I LIKED Roger: he was passionate and pretty well-informed, and a nice guy. And ripped - biceps for about 12 days, and a former high school current little league football coach (ergo: not the stereotypical Democrat. At least, at my high school, the coaches were conservative Christian rethug assholes). What a surreal shopping trip.