Coachella and Other Things You Can’t Afford
I am a (reasonably) young, “creative” person living in an urban environment. As such, essentially everyone I know purports to be poor. Like, super poor (their emphasis, not mine). Now, not to get all Reagan on your ass, but I fully believe that my friends’ particular breed of poverty is a choice. They’re not poor because they have to work two jobs to pay for their mother’s chemotherapy. They’re not poor because they were born disenfranchised. They’re poor because they waste their money on stupid, superfluous shit that does nothing to better their quality of life, because they still complain incessantly about being depressed.
Unless you’re attending as a paid member of the Monster™ Energy Extreme Promotional Team, if you’re going to Coachella this weekend, you no doubt shelled out tons of cash for tickets. Know what would have been a more productive thing to buy? Health insurance. If you’re wasting what little scratch you have on the tired, money-sucking trappings of young life that I’ll outline below, check yourself before you wreck yourself. Any by “yourself,” I mean your credit (which is what defines your worth as a human anyway).
My great-grandmother spent a couple weekends in the desert once—escaping the Turks, who had murdered her entire family. The modern day equivalent of her journey consists of shitheads with Skrillex haircuts shlepping out to the godless wasteland that is the Coachella valley and spending $400 for the privilege of getting dehydrated on $12 beers, being aggressively marketed to by tech companies, and listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers. No wonder the members of this generation have no goddamned character.
According to my father, food exists solely to “make turds.” Viewing food as turd fuel means:
A) The word “brioche” doesn’t need to be in your vocabulary,
B) You don’t have to waste $30 every Sunday eating overpriced turd fuel in the company of women in sundresses and your hungover, financially irresponsible peers.