The Pre-Approved Life

Boldly, the envelope proclaims the good news!

I am "PRE-APPROVED"!

But how can you be approved for something before you even ask? Have the credit card and loan companies become omniscient in their ability to know my needs, wants and desires, or have they also pre-approved a set of those as well?

On the one hand, I am flattered that they think enough of my worthiness to offer me, an unemployed stay at home housewife with a penchant for leopard skin bedroom shoes, blue jeans, t-shirts and baseball caps their line of credit or offer of a loan.

Bright woman that I am with a functional pair of bifocals, I can read the tiny writing proclaiming the reality of my pre-approved status. High interest and penalties... is THIS what I'm really pre-approved to receive?

It's sort of a yucky surprise, like finding out your brand new rectal thermometer has been factory tested to ensure it works properly. Exactly how... no, skip that. And by the way, just think about that job offering... who would be eager for that assignment. Eeeeeew!

Naturally, all of that "pre-approval" crap is just that - a big whacking load of manure from the barnyard. You can't get all those glorious benefits without some kind of hidden stench.

I just read about a company that charges saps who don't understand how interest works a whopping 78% on their credit card. Of course, their carefully prepared come on letter doesn't reveal that nasty surprise right up front. It's buried beneath the layer upon layer of manure that talks about living the "good life" and being "entitled".

Pre-approval is a scary thought.

Since I have no way to pay back anything I might decide to purchase with the ridiculously high credit limit offered by the Peoria Savings and Loan of Dubuque, Iowa, does this mean (and I say this in jest) that I am pre-approved to force others to pay for my choices when I default on my pre-approved card?

Does that then mean that others are pre-approved to bail my ass out when I refuse to be responsible?

Yeah, I know.

I'm not politically correct since I don't buy into the "entitlement" and "you deserve it" game.

How much of the stuff we surround ourselves with is a pre-approved lifestyle? How much is truly necessary?

George Carlin once spoke about our human penchant to surround ourselves with "stuff" that we then go get boxes to put our "stuff" in so we then have room to get "MORE STUFF".

The pre-approved life is crowding me out of my own home! Can I be pre-approved to have a dumpster delivered so I can get rid of some of this pre-approved crap??? The weight of my own life choices is killing me... and I guess I'm pre-approved for the pain.

I'll tell you what I'd really like right now.

I'd like to be pre-approved for a big, gigantic eraser to remove the words "pre-approved" from the lexicon. All it really means is that you become the slave to your appetites and passions under the guise of being entitled.

Maybe Mark Twain had it right all along by saying something about everyone being entitled to go to hell in their own way, I just didn't expect mine to be under a mountain of envelopes indicating that I am living the pre-approved life.

My only question now is, since my life has been pre-approved, who gets to decide about my pre-approved death???