Nothing says working class like chicken poo

I’m not a cheapskate. Quite the opposite. Money flows through me like sand through an hourglass. It enters my wallet through PayPal, the newspaper’s payroll department, a bar owner’s cash register and a half-dozen other sources. When you make your living as a musician/freelance writer that’s just the way it works.

The money never seems to stay in my wallet, however. Most of it I waste on frivolous stuff like food, the mortgage, gas for my Beetle. And every so often, I treat myself to something fun.

When I do, I try to make sure I get the most fun for the least amount of money. Not because I’m cheap, but because it makes sense. (Or “cents,” if you want to insert a lame pun here, which, apparently, I do.)

Some of the fun stuff I’ve purchased during the past couple years include 1) a ridiculously expensive photography drone, 2) an electric piano, 3) repairs to an antique typewriter The Lovely Mrs. Taylor bought me for my birthday, 4) some red, fuzzy dice for my car’s rear-view mirror, and most recently, 5) eight chickens.

That’s about it. May not sound like a lot to some folks, but it’s enough to keep me happy and entertained, and frankly, “happy and entertained” has been my life’s goal for the past 60 years. So far, so good, despite that annoying children’s story about the ant and the grasshopper.

At any rate, I try to make sure the “fun stuff” I buy has real value, at least to me. This will never change, not even if I won 30-million bucks in the lottery. I’d still shop at the dollar store, I’d still buy my T-shirts at Wally World, and I’d still stay in hotels that offer a senior discount. It’s just how I’m built.

Which is why I’ll never understand “luxury” products tailored to those with more money than brains. I’m thinking of junk like solid gold iPhones and jewel-encrusted contact lenses (there really is such a thing!).

Just how unsure of your own self-worth do you have to be before stuff like this makes it to your “must-have” list?

Yesterday, a Facebook friend posted a link to a luxury item that had to be seen to be believed. Since this was one of the four Facebook “friends” I actually know as a real, living, breathing human being, I clicked the link.

It connected me with an article about Nordstrom, the department store for people who can’t spend their money fast enough and need help. It’s the place to go if you need a $300 pair of sweat socks or $600 sneakers made by a Chinese kid earning 24-cents a day.

I was in a Nordstrom once and all I can say is the people shopping there must have inherited their millions; nobody that stupid could have earned the money themselves. Seriously, management should just place a big burn barrel at the entrance and let customers throw their money into it. It would save them from having to walk around the place and risking a possible coronary event brought on by sticker shock.

You think I’m being cynical? Then consider Nordstrom’s latest offering: $450, mud-covered jeans. According to Nordstrom’s sales department, the jeans are “inspired” by the working-class. They’re being marketed toward guys and gals who want to look as if they earn their money getting their hands dirty.

Yes, for real.

Stupid, right? But that doesn’t mean I can’t make a buck off this trend. So: attention Nordstrom shoppers! For only $763.99, I’ll sell you some of my old gardening pants. One size fits all, assuming you’re a lard-butt like me. I rarely wash them, so they’re filthy already. Also, for a limited time, I’ll let you wear them to clean out my chicken coop. It’s kinda cramped in there, so the experience offers plenty of opportunities to roll around in chicken poop.

Nothing says “working class” like chicken-poop covered gardening pants! (I may even make that my new business’ catch-phrase.)

I expect the cash to start rolling in any day now. By appointment only.

Mtaylor325@gmail.com

(616) 745-9530