The Return of the Diamond People
February 7, 2007
The diamond people are back. They're after you. There's nothing you can do to stop them.
The first sure signs that Valentines Day is once again upon are not the displays of hearts and cherubs in the windows of your local Hallmark store, the stacks of heart-shaped candy boxes clogging the aisle at Wal-Mart or the two hundred percent spike in the price of roses. The first sure sign the national day of love and commerce is upon is the reappearance, on television and radio, of the diamond people.
They're back.
The diamond people and I have had an ongoing relationship for most of my adult life. Each of us has a specific role. Their role is to come on my radio and TV, year after year, and convince me to spend ridiculous amounts of money on jewelry. Mine is to fall for it, year after year. Each of us performs our role like cast members in a well-rehearsed play.
It all started back when I was in college. The diamond people theme music rose from the TV speaker and I looked up through the bong-created haze, unplugged the guitar, turned up the TV and stared straight ahead as the diamond people spiked me with their talons for the first time. “An engagement ring, “ they told me. “Is more than just two months' salary. It's a sign of your love. Isn't your love worth two months' salary?”
Two months salary?! I was playing in a band at the time. I didn't have a salary. Two months worth of earnings in the band came out to, roughly, minus fifty dollars. Had I been serous enough about anyone at the time to ask for their hand in marriage, it was good news that I could walk into a jewelers, ask for a ring and fully expect to receive fifty dollars. That was quite a deal. The diamond people weren't bad, I thought. They're okay. I plugged the guitar back in, turned the amplifier back, turned the TV back down, relit that bong and thought about meeting a girl.
Real soon.
The next target of guilt was my Mom. I might not have had a woman, but I had a mother. The diamond people knew all about it. So, right before Mothers' day, they came back to my TV and radio, talking once again in that confiding manner. “You Mom,” the man said. “She brought you into this world. What have you done for her? This Mothers' Day show her how much you love her with a diamond ring as big as your fist. Come one. She almost died giving you life. Don't you think she's worth a diamond?” I was confused, because my Mom had never asked for a diamond. Maybe she was being coy. I asked my Dad. Dad would know. He told me that what Mom would really like for Mothers Day would be for us all to get together and get along, for just one day.
I asked if he was sure she didn't want a diamond; that would be a lot easier.
The diamond people did not give up after Mothers Day. They came back again at Christmas. They returned to ask if I had found anyone, yet. And then, one Groundhog's Day, I realized the diamond people might not have my personal benefit in mind. “Tell her that six more week of winter isn't a reason to hide in her burrow. Give her a diamond as big as a nocturnal rodent.”
And now, they're back.
Every few months they return, like a rash.
Luckily, I have found someone who does not want the entire jewelry store. Rather than have me spend two months' salary on a diamond, she skips the middle man and takes the cash.
She's not stupid.
I am. No matter how much she tells me she does not care about having a diamond as big as her head, the diamond people know better. They're experts. They know what to say to plant that small doubt in the back of men's minds. From the television comes the announcer's voice. “This Valentines' Day, show her how much you care with a diamond.”
Because we are men, we hear what he's really saying. What he's really saying is this: “This Valentines Day, the only way you're going to get laid is to buy her this.”
Damn those diamond people.
The Pope & Bill Gates ?? LOL Money & Power I'm Missing !!
