The apple doesn't fall far from the....

Marketing isn't just a force in our culture; it's the force. It's the organizing principle. And there is no greater proof than the popular conception of Microsoft and Apple. Everyone knows that Microsoft is evil. Google even picked their slogan--"Don't be evil"--as a not-so-subtle dig at Microsoft. Their public perception is so bad that no one defended them during their ludicrous antitrust trial, or in the suit's aftermath. That antitrust case was the low point of the lousy tenure of a lousy attorney general (not that Alberto Gonzales is much better). Let's review the facts of the case: Microsoft bundled Windows with Internet Explorer, and this bundling was deemed so repugnant to consumers that Microsoft was found in violation of antitrust law. Netscape was still easily downloadable on Microsoft's operating system.

Apple, on the other hand, makes it impossible to play music downloaded from iTunes on any non-Apple mp3 player. That's right, you bought the music, but you can only use it on their product, and iTunes has 70% market share. That's like if 70% of gas stations in America only allowed you to fill up Fords. Furthermore, they made a product (the iPod) that had a battery that died after 18 months. They knew the battery died after 18 months, but they neglected to tell consumers. When the first generation of iPods began dying, Apple offered to replace the batteries, but for almost the full price of a new iPod. It took a class action lawsuit to force them to replace their batteries for a decent price.

But the case against Apple doesn't end there. Printed on the box of every iPod is the phrase, "Designed in California by Apple." So if they're designed in California, are they assembled there? Uh, no. According to the Daily Mail, iPods are made in a factory in China where workers are paid approximately $50 a month. The workers live in dormitories which house approximately 100 employees each, and the "iPod city," as it is called, has a population of 200,000. The plant is closed to outsiders and is secured by Chinese police. Perhaps the most absurd part of this story was when Apple stated that its iPod factory was "completely in accordance with the requirements of Shenzhen labor supervision departments." That's right. Apple said that their factory stood up to the rigorous standards of Chinese labor laws, so everything was kosher. This story went almost unreported in the U.S.

The most shocking aspect of the reign of Apple, however, is the religious fervor that Apple's customers have for their products. Magazines, websites, blogs, podcasts, and every other form of media imaginable has sprung up to report exclusively on Apple products. And if you want to understand the full measure of Apple's hegemony, start explaining to an Applehead the evils of Apple's ways. They will (this is almost unvariably true) react emotionally and, at times, angrily to any challenge to Apple's dominance. It reminds me of the way Catholics respond to challenges to dogma.

Which leads me to conclude one thing: Baudrillard was right. Capitalism is not about choice or freedom, it's about the illusion of choice and the illusion of freedom. We think we have a choice, and that's what's so brilliant. We think that we pick iPods because they are the superior product, when we would probably pick them anyway. We pick them because the flashy commercials and impossible-to-miss white headphones (which, incidentally, are complete pieces of crap) convey a picture of life that is completely irresistable to American consumers. After a while the Apple tumor has metastasized until it can no longer be removed. It's wrapped around the fabric of American life, and its associations and semiotic chains are iron-clad. Apple has found a narrative. When you buy an Apple product, you are smart, trendy, techie (but in a good way), urban, and cool. Or at least Steve Jobs wants you to think so. But at the end of the day, Steve Jobs is chasing the same dollar as Bill Gates.

But maybe the difference is that we're all complicit with Apple. Microsoft came to power in spite of everyone's wishes. MS-DOS snuck up on us, and everyone hated it, but it took power, and then it was too late. The regime was established, and the only thing we could do about it was our tiny acts of rebellion: jokes, Microsoft-bashing, or, if you're the DOJ, prosecution. But we let Apple come to power. We invited it to reign over the hearts and lives of techies everywhere.

This case is like the rise to power of Robert Mugabe in Zimbabwe. He came to power as a reformer, and he was a great reformer. Then he corrupted. Now he's a tyrant. It's difficult, however, for the people to stand up to the man they put in power; they realize that they're complicit in his rise. So it's easier to turn a blind eye upon his failings than to admit that you made a mistake.

Well I made a mistake. I bought an iPod. It's a silly product, and I was swayed by lifestyle marketing that told me that the iPod would make me cooler, happier, more fun. But I'm not going to sit by and defend Apple anymore. They can continue producing iPods in sweat shops and swindling American customers, but I won't be buying anything they make. Mr. Jobs, consider this a boycott.

Messianic Complexes, and all that

Bono recently made a reference to his "Messianic complex." When I heard him say it, it sounded so flippant and foolish that I dismissed it as another instance of Bono's brand of rock star Christianity. But maybe he's onto something. By Messianic complex, he means he wants to come to the world and overhaul it, fix it, repackage it, give hope to the huddled masses, feed the hungry, and make the children laugh again. It sounds silly and prideful when you say it that way, but I want the same thing.

I want to matter, so desparately and cloyingly that I spend my nights staring into the blackness of the lights-out night, lying on the couch, iPod playing some wistful prog rock, and I sit convinced that I'm one neuron-fire away from the Big Idea that will change the world. I have assured myself that I have some weird cocktail of talents that I will one day tame, and then, then, then I will pull it all together. People will be inspired, hearts will be open, and I will matter.

And then there's Christianity: ah, there's the ticket! What better place to nurture a Messianic complex than the religion that coined the term. The message of Christianity is that the last shall be first, and that a single man can matter. That's what it sometimes sounds like to me.

And if you completely eviscerate Christianity, the hollow shell looks like that. It takes a genuine theological dwarf to talk yourself into turning Christianity into rugged individualism. But I do it every day. I stare at the crucified Christ, and I look him in the eye and say "Yes! You did that for me." And I celebrate as if redemption is a line on my resume. I have taken the cross of Christ and turned it into a first step on some ladder of self-importance.

It's a picture of the peace and humble submission of Christ that he goes on, day after day, and week after week, and lets me walk on him. 2000 years ago, Christ died. And if his corpse were still around, I would step on it, climb over it. That's the form of sin: staring at Christ in all his blessed humiliation, and asking for a little more. We hoist ourselves on our self-made crosses and stare down and furrow our brows. We look at God with disbelief, convinced that someone has to fix this broken world, and Christ sure didn't do the job right.

There are two kinds of Christians in the world. The people like me, the flailing saints, demanding that the world be fixed. We are so self-righteously upset by poverty and genocide and terrorism and a million social ills, and like petulant children we pray for God to fix it. And then there are the real saints, who lie face-down on the ground, palms toward heaven, praying for mercy, mercy, mercy.

Only the man who can smell the gangrene of his own sin can find any value in the cross. In that sad sorry rot, God can implant a soul that's clean, a soul that can breathe, if we'd lie still long enough to let it.