In ‘06, the United States in overwhelmed by materialism and greed, driven by advertisers determined to make us feel inadequate. Being middle class isn’t good enough, they suggest — you need to aspire to the luxury items of the ultra-rich. If you can’t afford them, you can buy them on credit (with interest, of course).

Critics decry the situation. “Beneath the hundred thousand women of the elite are a million middle-class women, miserable because they are not of the elite, and trying to appear of it in public… When one comes to the ultra-modern profession of advertising–the science of persuading people to buy what they do not want—he is in the very center of the ghastly charnel house of capitalist destructiveness, and he scarcely knows which of a dozen horrors to point out first.”

When I added “The Jungle” to my list I didn’t realize that it was the 100th anniversary of the publication of the novel. Because of that I was able to buy this excellent special edition with artwork by Charles Burns:

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Here is a typical conversation in our house:

Vision is sitting in the corner, looking at me with big brown eyes. I say, “You know what I’ve concluded?”

Dan says, “What?”

“Vision is a petunia.”

“She is a petunia,” he agrees.

“She’s also a little bit of a McNugget.”

“Oh she’s a McNugget!”

Now I’m getting carried away. “She is also a rhubarb compote.”

“No way,” says Dan. “She is so not a rhubarb compote.”

“She is so!”

“Nuh-uh.”

I scowl. “Well, she’s definitely an enchilada.”

“Hmm.”

“Vision, are you an enchilada?”

Vision says nothing. I bend down to her eye level and ask, “Who’s an enchilada?” She stares at me, wide-eyed. “Is it you? IS IT YOU?”

“EEEEEEEEEEEE!” Vision shrieks. She rolls over and covers her face with her paws. Then she flips upside-down and I rub her tummy.

“See? She’s not an enchilada.” Dan considers her. “Maybe a chimichanga.”