Great Gift?

April 1, 1992

[Editor’s note: at top of first page is a photocopy of an ad which reads:

“Endangered Feces™: Get a new perspective on our changing times! Be the first in your group to possess this wonderful treasure from the past 65- to 90-million-year-old fossilized dinosaur droppings – naturally enhanced with the glitter of “Fool’s Gold.” Stimulates philosophical thoughts! Packaged in an elegant pouch with numbered certificate of authenticity. Great gift, any occasion! $19.95+$3 P&H.”]

Now, I ask you, does the above advertisement make you wonder if Western Civilization is going down the tubes? Was it H. L. Mencken who wrote, “No one ever went broke underestimating the a intelligence of the American people.”? This “musing” is being written on April Fools’ Day, but the ad appeared in March, so it can be assumed that for $22.95, fossilized dinosaur excrement can be yours. Would you proudly exhibit feces in your étagère? If so, would Freud conclude you had an anal personality?

Geologists and other scientists have cause to study this ancient doo-doo, but others?

There is small accounting for fads that periodically seem to captivate so many. Remember hula hoops? Pet rocks? Punk hairdos?

The ad proclaims that this 65-to-90 million year-old crap will “stimulate philosophical thoughts.”

I doubt if I’d be stimulated to philosophical thoughts, although I must admit that I was reminded of the Presidential primaries. Wall Street has Bull markets; the primaries are Bullshit markets. You may not like the vulgar phrasing, but can you argue that such a metaphor is off the mark?

“Packaged in an elegant pouch....”! No matter how “elegant”, the contents are still feces. There was a story making the rounds in New York City a couple of decades ago at a time when the when the rubbish collectors were on strike. An ingenious apartment dweller had a creative method to dispose of her garbage. She gift-wrapped the swill in a shoe-box, festooned with a pretty ribbon. Then she went down to the street, placed the box on the front seat of her automobile, leaving car door unlocked. Returning upstairs, she was certain the box would be stolen within minutes – and it was. This way of garbage disposal was chancy, however. The auto could have disappeared as well as the gift of garbage. “Elegant pouch” for dinosaur dung, indeed.

One would think that a purchaser of this ancient excrement would flush with embarrassment when explaining this trophy on his shelf.

“Lord, what fools these mortals be!” (Puck, A MIDSUMMER NIGHT DREAM)