Mar 24, 2008

Have it your way, every day

By Malcolm Fleschner / Humor Columnist

As the Bush Administration likes to point out, for many years now the government has been working diligently to protect the freedoms we Americans hold dear. Anyone harboring doubts about whether this is true can just pick up the phone and ask a government representative. The great thing is that you don't even have to bother dialing - someone is already listening!

Here in the United States our numerous freedoms have made us the envy of others around the globe. Of course there are the "oldies but goodies" like freedom of speech, freedom of religion and the freedom to use your freedom of speech to criticize someone else's religion. But let's not forget about the more recently discovered, but no less sacred freedoms: the freedom to blast our car stereos, the freedom to ignore posted speed limits, the freedom to use the workplace office supply cabinet as a larder for all our home Post-it note needs and the freedom to make a spectacle of yourself on a reality television show.

Perhaps our most cherished freedom is the freedom of choice - at least that's what the nation's advertisers would have us believe, as they not-so-subtly imply that the Continental Army hunkered down through that frigid winter in Valley Forge so that today American consumers can enjoy new Tangy Citrus-flavored Doritos or McDonald's Cheezy Bacon McWaffle breakfast sandwich (for a limited time only).

At some point, however, all these consumer choices become too much freedom and wind up paralyzing us with the array of available options. Just yesterday, for example, my wife sent me on a simple errand to the drugstore and, upon reaching the toilet paper aisle, I immediately became overwhelmed by the number of choices I had to make. Quilted or plain? Two-ply or three-ply? Scented or unscented? 12-pack or 24-pack? Blue, white or pink? Teddy bear or fluffy cloud motif? After five minutes of ponderously considering my options, I finally just grabbed a package at random and hoped for the best. At home my wife looked in the bag and said, "What's this?"

"Damn," I said, "I was supposed to buy the kind with lotion, wasn't I?"

"No," she said. "You were supposed to buy laundry detergent."

In a less free society like, say, the old Soviet Union, people didn't have to deal with confusion over their toilet paper choices. There weren't any. (Choices, that is.) There was toilet paper, although people did have to wait in line for seven hours to purchase just one roll, which had the texture and consistency of 50-grit sandpaper. On the plus side, such quick and easy decisions left them plenty of time for other important Soviet-era activities, like searching for a functioning toilet.

Meanwhile, back here in 21st century America our range of options just keeps on growing. I'm thinking specifically of the recent "on demand" trend in entertainment options. Today, thanks to iPods, TiVo, iTunes and digital cable, consumers have virtually 24/7 access to any song they want to hear or TV show or movie they want to watch, which is great for everyone - except those of us who never know what we want.

Maybe it's because I fondly recall growing up in an era when there were only three TV channels to choose from - except that the knob on the TV kept breaking so that you could only change the channel with a pair of pliers, and the pliers were always getting lost - but I actually appreciate a little uncertainty in my entertainment experience. After all, isn't it a great feeling when, as you're sitting in traffic on your way to work and you start fiddling with the radio dial, that perfect song comes on? You haven't heard the song in ages, and you start singing along, your voice rising with such fervor and gusto that you wind up smashing right into the car in front of you. Isn't that great?

I feel the same way about movies on TV. As I'm making myself a sandwich on a typical Saturday afternoon, I've probably got definite plans for the next few hours that include running a few errands, mowing the lawn, getting started on that novel I've been meaning to write. Perhaps composing a light opera, that sort of thing. Yet as I sit down and turn on the TV, I notice that "Star Wars" is just beginning on TBS and think to myself, "Well, maybe I'll watch a few minutes while I eat." But then, three hours and 45 commercial breaks later, I'm still on the sofa watching the assault on the Death Star and shouting at the screen, "Come on, Luke - use the Force!"

That's usually the point when my wife walks in and says, "I thought you were going out to buy toilet paper!"

Is freedom just another word for nothing left to choose? E-mail Malcolm your thoughts at Malcolm@CultureShlock.com