Spend for America!

My economic stimulus check has so far been less than stimulating.
I was as excited as anyone when I found out a few months ago that $600 would soon show up in my bank account. Who wouldn't be? Someone wanted to give me money not because I contributed anything of value to society but simply because I exist. It's like any given day in the life of Paris Hilton.
At the time, I had visions of making calls on a shiny new iPhone, finally framing some of the posters I have stashed in the closet of my home office or undergoing unnecessary surgical procedures, all in the name of shoring up the strength of the dollar. Who needs a spleen when the American economy is hurting?
But a funny thing happened between the day the free money was promised and the day it actually appeared in my bank account. I paid bills. Lots of them. And with each mortgage payment and natural gas bill and insurance premium I watched my bank balance fall lower than the Timber-wolves chances of getting a decent player in the upcoming NBA draft.
I wasn't having MC Hammer-level problems or anything, but all of a sudden I didn't feel like I was in the kind of position where frivolous spending seemed like a good idea. Not even in the name of spreading truth, justice and the conspicuous consumption way.
So, ever since that money showed up in my checking account it's done nothing but sit there. It has not brought me high-end consumer electronics products. My walls are still largely bare. And I haven't had so much as a mole removed.
I bring this up now because I feel like I owe America an apology. I was not given this money to selfishly save for my own future. It did not appear as if by magic in my bank account so I could buy boring things like food or gas or beef jerky. When my bank accepted that electronic transfer on my behalf it came with an unspoken demand: in the name of all that's mass produced and disposable, spend like a drunken socialite. And in that I have failed miserably.
I want to make up for my shortcomings, America.
Well, one of my shortcomings. We really don't have time to go into everything else right now.
America, I will shop like I've never shopped before. I'll buy things I never imagined I needed, like a pet urn with a built-in digital photo frame. I haven't had a pet in years, but if I get a dog someday and it dies tragically in an incident involving a clown, a pony and an ill-timed game of fetch (Or something. I don't know.) then what better way to pay tribute than a $250 wood box with a built-in screen that displays low-resolution photos.
I will spend $300 on ESPN's so-called ultimate remote control, because I've lived far too long without a device capable of simultaneously changing the channel to SportsCenter and sending angry e-mails to Kevin McHale.
I will buy things I don't need. Things I don't want. I will buy things nobody could ever possibly use. Why just get an iPhone when for just a few thousand dollars more you can get one encased in gold or caked with crystals? Horribly ugly, sure, but think of all the economic good you'll be doing.
I might even buy a copy of Windows Vista.
We're all in this together America. Now, what do you say we all go out for ice cream. I'm buying.


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