Why does communism fail?

Why does Nike have better sales than New Balance? Why do people choose Princeton over Ohio State University?

The answer to all of these questions lies in one word:

“Prestige.”

For the sheer attention, the honor, the valor gained from it, darn it!

Communism fails because we seek to be better, to be recognized. Nike is typically a prettier, flashier shoe than New Balance. Princeton is so prestigious that the loveliness of the school spills out into the name and it even SOUNDS nicer than “Ohio State University.”

So why do girls change their appearance? The inclusion of specific gender is unnecessary. It is the same reason that a man changes his appearance: so that others notice us. Let’s face it, a drastic change of experience is just about the best method of shifting attention to yourself next to public suicide.

Now some people would make the claim, “No, no, people change their appearance because they like the way they look with purple hair!” And others (moi) would respond with, “How many times a day do you see yourself? More than others do.”

I suppose the concept I’m alluding to is called “self-image.” This is a tricky term.

Self-image isn’t how people see themselves. Self-image is how a person thinks OTHERS see them. I don’t look in a mirror and say, “Hmmm… those love-handles are mighty unattractive; I hope I don’t notice them today and form a false judgment of myself.”

But we’re not scared that others will look at us and make a judgment either. No, unless you have an anxiety disorder, you’re not going to give a darn about what others thinks of you based on your appearance.

The truth is this: we are not afraid that others will think badly of us. We do not care about the acne on our cheeks, or the dryness of our skins, or the color of our hair. All we care about is that people know we exist. We beg for the recognition that we are here on this planet. We are so dang distanced and unattached from one another that we yearn most for those moments in which a person looks at us and acknowledges our very presence in a room.

I know that this answer ultimately sounds like I’m accusing the entire human race of having a really nasty histrionic disorder. It’s like one giant orgy of attention-craving, narcissistic, carbon-based cell-masses. If that doesn’t sound nihilistic, I don’t know what does. Cynical, much? I want to believe that these types of things are not as horribly as we strive to make them. Look at this way:

In the end, I suppose our desire to change our appearance is fueled by the same reason that we fear death: we are totally petrified by the concept that we may one day lose our identity, our very being, our ego… and be forgotten.