And the line between “liberal” and communist gets even thinner:
So now, overwhelmed with a juicy sugar rush from so much freedom of choice, I found I had a headache. Time to repair to the neighborhood drug and convenience store, across the street. This place, too, is a typically modest affair. The section with painkillers is only 12 feet long. When I was young, our “choice” was among Bayer aspirin, Bufferin (buffered aspirin) and Anacin (aspirin with caffeine). Tylenol (acetaminophen) didn’t come along until 1955, and the various brands of ibuprofen didn’t arrive until 1974. Now, good grief! The brands in this small store included: Advil, Aleve (that’s naproxen, available since 1991), Anacin, Ascriptin (aspirin buffered with Maalox — yum!), Bayer, Bufferin, Ecotrim (coated aspirin), Excedrin, Halfprin (not sure about the other half), Legatrin, Mobigesic, Momentum, Motrin, St. Joseph, and Vanquish.
The Bayer brand alone offers: genuine, “plus,” safety-coated, low-dose, extra-strength, extra-strength back & body pain, chewable, PM, and women’s (low dose & calcium). Tylenol, apparently Bayer’s biggest competitor on these shelves, counters with: regular strength, extra-strength, 8-hour, PM, arthritis pain, tabs, caplets, cool caplets (huh?), rapid-release gels, and “Go-Tabs,” whatever those are. Excedrin and Anacin have “only” several choices each. And of course, generic versions of aspirin, acetaminophen, ibuprofen, and naproxen, in various strengths, are there as well. Is your head throbbing yet? Mine is. Spinning, too! Thank you, America, for giving me so many choices.
In any supermarket or drugstore in America, you will find similar duels among eager, colorful contestants vying for your business. And don’t get me started on cold remedies, or shampoo, or salad dressings here, because they’re even worse. The problem for me is that, while I am rummaging through these endless choices of assorted commodities, I am rapidly eating away at the most-valuable commodity I have: time. I go to the supermarket for a juice with a particular taste. Five minutes later, I’m still looking. I flee to the pharmacy for relief. Hmmm, I have sniffles, a headache, chest congestion, but no sore throat, no fever. Which product do I need? How is all this freedom of choice helpful? You call this liberating? Often, it’s just time-consuming and, ultimately, frustrating. In the Communist-era Soviet Union, stores would have perhaps one or two of a given item on a shelf — not one or two choices, mind you, just one or two loaves of bread, or bottles of milk, a couple of cartons of eggs. I’ve spoken to Russian émigrés who express nostalgia for those good old days. I think I understand them, now.
Yes, I’m sure many people pine for the days when they might not be able to buy simple over the counter remedies or may not have a slice of bread for weeks at a clip. Damn it why can’t we be more like that great Soviet Union? Why do we have to waste our time making our own decisions and thinking for our selves? Isn’t there some government agency that can do that for us?