I don’t know and I kind of hate the term “loyal” applied to commercial and / or attention capturing domains. There can’t be any reasonable expectation that someone who bought your product once (either in cash or attention) owes you their attention and / or dollars in the future. If the answer is anything else than do your best work EVERY. SINGLE. TIME, then I think we’ve jumped the shark as a species.
Absolutely. The IKEA Nesting Instinct has run amok, and Consumer is a definitionally discontented state of being.
Personally, I hate that I know what a duvet is.
You own few things and nothing owns you.
I’m not a fan of the “spree.” I don’t like a shopping spree and I don’t like a murder spree and I really don’t like a shopping mall shopping / murder spree.
What’s the one luxury you can’t live without?
Luxuries, by definition, can be done without.
I do have a jō (short wooden staff) of which I’m fond. I crave books, but since I could care less whether I read them as paper or on a screen and gladly give any but those with long-term reference value away after reading, I don’t think they count.
Being fonder of ideas than anything material, I like the story about Diogenes the Cynic who, upon seeing a boy drink from cupped hands, threw away his cup in self-anger for being such a hoarder.
Where would you go on a shopping spree?
A used bookstore is the only possible answer, but even then “spree” would generally be excessive for my volume of purchases – by common usage.
I’ve never been a recreational shopper. But, as “sprees” go, I’ve gone on more of the shopping kind than the murdering kind. Funny, those are the only kinds of sprees I’m aware of. I guess something has to die to make it a spree.
Well, they were Timberland hiking boots, a pair that was comfortable and had served me well on a number of hikes in various parts of the world. Then, on the Goechala Pass Trek in Sikkim, I learned that they were only held together by some planned-obsolescent glue.
I had to hike six days with one of the soles strapped to my foot for one of the boots, and five days for the other. Yes, after so many miles of hiking in various environments, they fell apart within one day of each other. I guess the glue has a finite number of puddle steps in it, and I hit that number one day earlier with one boot than the other. That’s when I realized there’s nothing special about a shoe. It’s just a bunch of the lowest cost materials stuck together in the lowest cost assembly method and designed so you’ll have to buy a new pair every few months to years, depending upon the type of shoe, its use, and its price point. If there were a monopoly on shoe production, no pair would last more than a week. It’s only competition that allows for some halfway decent pairs to exist. I’m happy with any shoe that protects my feet, and — once it doesn’t — it’s dead to me.
the old church stands:
proud, tall, and hollowed.
when it’s rebuilt,
will it be another church?
or will it be a shopping mall?
I’m like a Pyongyang refugee.
Detergent, far as the eye can see.
In some Seoul department store,
on the cleaning products floor.
I reject your bolder and your brighter
like a Smurf-smashing gorilla fighter.
It’s the same stuff, different box.
I’ll go beat my britches on the rocks.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 