Nothing illuminates the dilemma facing Western civilization like a walk down Shattuck Street in Berkeley, California’s Gourmet Ghetto…
“Would you like tokens or credit for bringing your own bags today?” the perky, pierced cashier asks. There’s a small cluster of people behind me in line, witnesses to either my generosity or my lack thereof. She may just as well have asked the underlying question: “Are you a Good Person, or are you such a selfish skinflint that you can’t even give a few nickels to the needy even though you just spent an ungodly amount of your paycheck at this expensive natural-foods store?”
This is my extended family. Every year we all meet at my Grandparents’ home in Carbondale, Illinois. This year for our family portrait, I wanted to emphasize how far we all travel in order to continue our Christmas family traditions.
Take one look at my everyday street outfit and you can tell I’m a pretty cool dude. As a vegetarian with five years of humanitarian studies under his belt, I understand and often think about the fact that my specific fashion choices represent evil: jackets and belts made from dead animals, jeans sewn by tortured teenagers, shoes built by slaves from developing countries.