Weblog entry:
- The jungle moderne
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There’s something liberating about finding that you’ve only one dollar left in your wallet. The single, solitary bill is there, looking up at you, surrounded by an empty expanse of black leather. You realize that some tough choices will have to be made: do you take a five minutes’ detour to the cash machine, or just deal with the cash shortage later? A little scrounging around in your change pocket yields a motherlode of quarters — all told, you’ve approximately three bucks to your name. Probably enough to grab a snack later on, just to tide you over until work’s over; you’ll just grab some extra cash then.
Then, the testosterone kicks in. You begin to relish the sheer primal feel of your little discovery: the chips are down, your back is against the wall. It’s time to make the tough choices, strike out on your own. Survive with little more than a few dollars, your wits, and your ninja-like survival instincts. Why, given enough resources and time, you could perhaps smelt your two dollars’ change into some sort of crude spear; handy, no doubt, should Boston become overrun by man-eating beasts. A new breed of hunter-gatherer has been forged from the three dollars in your wallet — you’ve been reminded that you are a man, self-reliant, self-possessed, powerful.
Then you blow the lot on an overpriced latté at Starbucks, and Darwin weeps silently.
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