Give.

We are the Haves. We want what’s now, and we want it now, so we buy it now. In twelve months it’s not now anymore, so we need to upgrade. And what’s wrong with that, in any case? We deserve our little treats from ourselves. We work hard for our money. God knows it’s no picnic taking orders from our brainless manager, and practically impossible to get through the morning without a double shot latte, especially when we’ve gotten up at five for our session with our personal trainer, who’s a skinny judgemental bitch by the way. We need our little treats.
Occasionally, after a treat session involving an embarrassing number of dollars, we remember our estranged relatives, the Have-Nots. There are so many worthy causes to support, it’s a struggle to keep up: cancer research, AIDS orphans, poor families, ugly children, cancer research, sad people, battered pets, cancer research, the homeless. But, you know, we can arrange to make regular donations by direct debit now. Just pop in our account details and they’ll charge us automatically each month – so quick, and we don’t even have to think about it!
Do we know what they do with our money? Do we care? We sort of assume something vague about lab equipment, and food, and so on. The more sceptical of us murmur about the overblown costs of admin. But in truth, this is what our money pays for: people’s time. It pays scientists to study cell mutation. It pays social workers to meet with angry, lonely children. It pays the wages of carers and medics and counsellors and church workers.
Because somebody has to do this stuff. And we haven’t got the time.
Honestly, it’s as though people see charities as a way of alleviating their guilt about living such decadent lifestyles. We behave as though our money is a precious gift to the needy, but we all know (or should know) that money is really just something we exchange for things we want more than money. For instance, that nice, reassuring feeling that we’re not completely selfish shits.

The worst aspect of this charity culture, however, is the advent of the corporate charity partner. It appears to be compulsory for all major companies to make impressive public donations to the charity of their choice. This has very little to do with the heartfelt generosity of company directors. It has everything to do with image. These companies must be seen to be “giving back”, to show concern and sympathy for those in need. The soulless look is out.
Ronald MacDonald House, the hospice for kids recovering from cancer, receives a set amount from their titular sponsor each year. The sponsor does not contribute to the running of the charity. Because of its large monetary contribution, the sponsor gets to put its name on the doors. But the charity needs more funds than the sponsor donates, and it must raise these funds on its own. Hmmm.
This Christmas, Kmart ran a “Wishing Tree” charity drive. The store encouraged shoppers to buy Kmart toys and leave them under the tree in store so they could be donated to disadvantaged children. Perhaps I’m missing something, but what exactly is Kmart’s contribution here? They make a profit from the sale of the toys, but the toys stay in store? Couldn’t Kmart just give the toys directly to toyless kiddies, without making shoppers pay retail price for them first? Or maybe even give out some other handy things, such as clothes and books?

Anyway, everyone knows big businesses are evil. But people, individually, should have a little more genuine care. Nobody has any actual time or effort to donate. We don’t even have the kindness to let through that car trapped behind a right-turning van during morning peak hour. We treat our mothers and our boyfriends and our waiters like crap. We storm through each day feeling like everything ought to be better than it is, and more often than not, we crash into people doing the same thing because none of us are really looking, and we give them the finger for being rude arseholes. Are we really so short on time that we can’t spare the extra second it takes to look up, step sideways, and smile?

If you’re one of the people who wrote “love” on their arms on November 13, can I ask - did anyone enquire about your body art that day? And what did you tell them? Feel like you made a real old difference for depression awareness and treatment, then, huh?
Yeah. So here’s something real you can do. Take a mental look at the people around you. Who is struggling? Who is dealing with illness, recovering from a breakup, can’t find a job, never seems happy when you see them? Why don’t you hold out a hand? You don’t have to lend them money. You don’t have to treat them like a charity case. Just care. Just listen.
Just give your time.

End.

What you are, I once was; what I am, you will become.
Inscription detailed in The Holy Trinity - Masaccio

The grave marker of the dinosaurs is a hundred mile-wide crater buried under sea and sediment near the
Gulf of Mexico. Our best guess is that a great asteroid slammed into the Earth, causing a global earthquake, triggering volcanic eruptions, sending tsunamis over the seas and flaming rocks into the skies. Hell rained.
One hundred cubic kilometres of dust and the smoke from a hundred thousand fires cast a cloak around the earth, banishing sunlight for years to come. Without light, the plants wilted. Without food, the herbivores perished. Without prey, the predators’ terrible teeth had no flesh to strip, and soon, no flesh at all.

The great reptiles were not the only ones damned by the hit. They say two-thirds of Earth’s species died out. It was the meekest who lived. The lowest beasts; the crawling things; those who could make do with less. Without the threat of hungry giants, these little ones began to thrive. It took millions of years for the mammals to grow into their inherited world, but only a few hundred thousand for humans to emerge and repossess it.

Compare us - humanity - to the dinosaurs. The dominant species on Earth. They were unbelievably huge, strong and tough and ravenous. They were consumers too. If they had an economy, the currency was life. The smaller creatures matured fast and bred in high numbers, because with huge, carnivorous reptiles around, life was short. And in these efforts to produce at least one surviving heir, they laid out great feasts for their predators. It wasn’t worth anyone’s while to grow too big. Big things get noticed first. Big things get eaten first.

We humans have done away with the need for spotting and catching our snacks. We grow them like vegetables. We grow them as big or as small as we want 'em, and usually we go with big. Not because we're big ourselves - no, we just like to have lots of everything.

It all makes me wonder what it'll take to finish us. The dinosaurs ruled sustainably for millions of years before their Armageddon. We are still less than one million years old, chewing up the planet with rows upon rows of metal teeth so that the world is already beginning to tremble as though unsettled by distant footfalls. But if the hand of God came down to smite us, we would consult our instruments and see it coming.
And we'd damn well dodge.

* My information regarding the K-T extinction is based on Carl Zimmer's Evolution: the triumph of an idea, 2001.

Free.

UPDATED MAY 20, 2010 AS CONTENT WAS RELOCATED.

It's finally finished! Follow the link below to download my illustrated, 31-page guide to sharehouse life.

free*

Lots of excellent advice

for aspiring sharehousers like you.

Read, save, keep. If you like it, please share the link with anyone who might find it useful or amusing. And tell me what you think!