From the Bump, From the Dog, From the Goldfish: Capitalism Gone Wild
We’ve officially reached peak commercial absurdity. If you need evidence, look no further than the Christmas card “from the bump.” Yes, apparently, unborn children are now penning heartfelt missives to family members. Just to clarify: the bump hasn’t even taken its first breath, let alone learned to write. Yet here it is, apparently sipping on amniotic fluid and waxing lyrical about how it can’t wait to “meet Grandma and Grandad this Christmas.”
Honestly, what’s next? Valentine’s cards from your houseplants? “Dear Owner, I photosynthesise better when you’re around. Love, Fern xoxo.”
The Evolution of Ridiculous Cards
Once upon a time, greetings cards served a simple, noble purpose. Birthdays. Weddings. “Sorry for your loss.” Boom. Done. But the card industry, fuelled by a monstrous cocktail of capitalism and an overactive imagination, decided to up the ante. Now, you can buy cards for every conceivable occasion, non-occasion, and existential crisis.
There are cards from pets (“Happy Birthday from Woofy!”), cards for divorces (“Congrats on getting rid of that loser!”), and even sympathy cards for breakups (“Sorry about your ex—he was a bit of a knob.”). And now, cards from bumps. What’s the intended emotional payoff here? Are we supposed to tear up at the thought of foetal sentimentality? Is Grandma meant to hug her card and whisper, “Thank you, little zygote”?
Other Industries Losing the Plot
It’s not just the card world that’s gone bananas. Commercialism is infiltrating every corner of our lives, and there seems to be no limit to the nonsense we’ll slap a price tag on.
1. Pet-Specific Products
The pet industry is in a league of its own. Dog ice cream? Cat yoga mats? Don’t get me wrong, I love animals, but does Fluffy the cat really need an organic, gluten-free advent calendar? And don’t even get me started on pet weddings. It’s bad enough I have to RSVP to Brenda’s third marriage, let alone her chihuahua’s.
2. Luxury Water
Water used to be simple. Tap or bottled, end of story. But now, we’ve got “raw water” (basically pond water for rich people) and “black water” that looks like someone poured their cold brew down the wrong sink. Oh, and don’t forget the brands that insist their water has been “lovingly harvested from ancient Arctic glaciers.” Sounds refreshing—until you remember it costs £20 a bottle and the planet’s melting.
3. Subscription Services for Literally Anything
The subscription box industry has also run amok. Cheese-of-the-month? Cool, fine. But then there’s “airplane mode snacks” and “artisan twigs for your fireplace.” At what point do we admit we’ve gone too far? Somewhere out there, someone is paying £30 a month for a box of ethically sourced moss.
Who Is Actually Buying These Things?
I’m convinced the people buying “from the bump” cards and artisanal pet hoodies are the same folks who make us all feel inadequate on Instagram. You know, the ones with perfectly curated lives, who “just can’t” without their personalised dog champagne flutes.
But for the rest of us, it’s baffling. Do I buy my mum a card “from the bump” to prove I’m an attentive child myself? Do I send my goldfish a Valentine’s card because “Gary’s been there for me through thick and thin”? Is this how society crumbles? Not with a bang, but with a Hallmark card for every molecule in the universe?
The Endgame of Commercialism
The truth is, capitalism thrives on inventing problems we didn’t even know we had. The card industry isn’t selling sentiment; it’s selling guilt. Because if you don’t buy “Merry Christmas from your neighbour’s goldfish”, are you even festive? And if you’re not festive, are you even human?
It’s not about the product; it’s about the message. Not the one in the card, but the one the card sends about you. “Look how thoughtful I am! I bought you a card from my unborn child, proving I’m not just a good parent-to-be—I’m the best.”
A Modest Proposal
Here’s my suggestion: let’s take this commercial madness to its logical conclusion. Cards from inanimate objects. “Merry Christmas from the toaster: I’ll keep your mornings warm.” Or how about “Happy Valentine’s Day from the microwave: You make my heart beep”?
Let’s embrace the ridiculousness, lean into it, and bankrupt the system with its own nonsense. Maybe then, when the dust settles, we can go back to the days when a Christmas card from a person—just one single, thoughtful person—meant something.
Until then, I’ll be here, waiting for a card from my umbrella telling me to “stay dry this rainy season.”
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