Endless Stuff
Live from his houseboat lair, Sausalito's resident philosopher Alan Watts muses about "reproduction" in this 1972 film clip. Despite his shirtlessness and bunk-top locale, not to worry, he's not talking about THAT kind of reproduction. This is part one of Watts' three part "fantasy" series that's purchasable from his website. Part two struck me as especially relevant after listening to our fair city's mayor on the radio the other day, exhorting the need for L.A. to make it more desirable for Coscos and Walmarts to set up shop. Citing the much-needed tax revenue they would bring in, Hizzoner got all eager-beaver on accepting the pithy returns of frenzied consumerism, while a few CEO crooks and their stockholding squires get rich. Has Villaraigosa ever actually looked out the window of his bodyguard-piloted SUV on the way to work? The city has become unbearably congested and new megamalls and shoddy hit-and-run developments certainly ain't going to help anyone except their corporate owners and backers. We don't NEED anything they sell. We all got along fine before they showed up, remember? And tax revenue? Somewhere along the way we've come to equate wealth with quality of life. Sure, growth brings in income, but at the expense of our peace of mind. Growth is nothing but atrophy dressed up fancy. How about DISSUADING growth? Let ‘em do it somewhere else and let us be a model of reason and sustainability, even if it costs us some “worth.” Skyrocketing home values are great, but only when you sell out and move to Oregon because you can’t stand living with the encroaching hurly burly anymore. If our society can only survive by ever-accelerating levels of building shit, selling shit, and buying shit—the accumulation of what Watts calls "endless stuff"—then I hope we’re all really enjoying it now, because once we run out of resources, space, and folks content to make it for us cheap, there won't be anything left but our overinflated property values, lots of cheap-ass stucco, and a population doubling every twenty years.