I bitch and moan about a lot of inconsequential things. You don’t have to tell me this; I have to live with me! Here’s another example of me blowing a minor thing out of proportion:

I hate this catalog. They keep sending it to me, and every time they do, I get pissed off anew. Why, out of the scores of retailers desperate enough to separate me from my money that they send me an expensive, glossy 4-color catalog every month, am I irritated by this one the most?

Because. I get catalogues for expensive things. I get catalogues for cheap kitschy things. I get catalogues for useless crap. I get catalogues for grossly overpriced useless crap. But this one stands out for how brazenly it insults my intelligence.

I also hate it because it glorifies a conspicuous consumerism that offends my delicate sensibilities. More on that later, after I give you but one example of how Frontgate insults the buying public’s intelligence.

On page four of the current catalog, they offer “polycarbonate drinkware and dinnerware.” Polycarbonate, of course, is a fancy way to say “plastic.” You can get them in bronze or clear, at the bargain price of $45.50 for six 11” dinner plates, and $39.50 for six 9” dessert plates. That’s a grand total of $85 for plastic plates.

In comparison, you can get the identical set of plates, dinner and dessert plates, at Target for $29.99. Please, how could those plates from Frontgate be worth $55 more? Who is buying this crap, that guy from Spinal Tap (but these go to 11)?

And that’s but one example. The catalog is full of $500 wicker lawn chairs, $169 hair dryers, and $49.50 toilet plungers. Do you remember what you spent on your last bath mat? Me, neither, but I know it wasn’t $50.

Now, to top it all off, the back page of each month’s catalog is dedicated to showcasing a customer’s outlandish home. This time, it’s Tommy and Chantal Bagwell’s “approximately 20,000 square feet” of opulence on Lake Lanier, 40 miles north of Atlanta.

And every month the people say the same annoyingly stupid thing, phrased slightly differently each time but with the same message: “People are often surprised by the feeling of coziness when they come inside!” Right. Cozy. All 20,000 square feet of it. And I’m sure they furnished it entirely from the Frontgate catalog, too. I bet they drive his-n-hers matching Lexus SUV’s.

I don’t hate rich people; I hate waste. And this catalog reminds me of how much we waste things in this country.

By the way, this guy apparantly agrees with me.