Decisions, Decisions

I think it's always been vogue in our age bracket to declare how impervious we are to advertising. Priming by the nefarious puppetmasters on Madison Ave is something for the lower classes, the mouthbreathers who genuinely believe that cracking open a High Life Light is going to get them a girl who's stacked like a brick poophouse.

That's oversimplistic, to say the least, and something I've always tried to buying into. Even if I don't own any piece of Reebok sports equipment, I can still cite chapter and verse of the Terry Tate commercials, so something must be sticking to my noodle, right?

I only mention this because it's occurred to me that media does drive my consumer decisions, but in roundabout ways. For instance, I've started every morning with a cup of tea at the office for the past two weeks. It's bitterly cold in Chicago, and by the time I get in I'm damn near frozen through and need something to thaw me out (and keep me awake). So I drink Earl Grey. Why? Because that's what Captain Picard drinks.