The economization of Life



In response to a post last week, The contemptible wealthy White and Asian class, The Dude commented:


When you make a few hundred dollars an hour, it costs you more to mow your own lawn than it does just to pay someone to do it for you. Of course, this simple math is something that most of the 99% never get.


I’d certainly not thought of it from this perspective. But it is very valid and the “econominization” of life is a popular theme among many business elites. If you are the type who considers your hourly salary as a constant that defines your existence, then of course sweeping or trimming or mowing or scrubbing is not worth your time when considering the fact you can hire an illegal alien who will happily do the same thing for a fraction of your “professional” salary. This will leave you with the valued self-absorption of “leisure time” which is the least productive of all activities.


This kind of outlook is fond of affixing a price tag to everything. The mere act of living is cast as a spreadsheet of cost and benefit analysis and all activities and immersions are contrasted from within the context of profit. This is why I call it the “economization” of life. It reduces breathing to a pile of black and red figures which are scaled into a column of figures that are calculated to infer the importance and worth of every mundane activity we commit.


Thus defined and limited, life loses layers of depth. The uni-dimensional existence of chasing the buck leaves nothing in its wake but a tissue-thin membrane of forgettable hollowness.


The thinking that leads a man to eschew manual labor because his time is too valuable simultaneously leads to an insular and weakened existence. An existence predicated on flimsy attachments to earthy foundations. I relish the robust, the strong, the powerful. The animal sense of purpose and ruggedness. If you believe your value is diluted by partaking in activities which are not as profitable as your normal professional fee, it means you are excusing your unwillingness to be human. We put price tags on everything until nothing has value because worth has superseded it, and worth is not value.


If you weren’t mowing the lawn, what would you be doing? Watching television? Playing golf? How are these activities more or less profitable than physical labor? It’s not as if you left work to go home and mow for 2 hours. Off the clock, who cares how you spend your time. My life away from work is my own. Only the slave concerns himself with the value of his non-earning actitivites.


Self-sufficiency is a priceless possession. I’ll embrace my filthy humanity over your overpriced pristine artificiality. Frankly, no one’s time is so valuable. I don’t care who you are. The worth of the raw materials of your skin and bones are shit. Your physical remnants can’t fetch enough money to buy a pack of gum. You are skin and sinew and cartilage. Your time equally means nothing. Start sweeping, you lazy sack of inflated bones.