This piece works well as a study in the absurdity of Dustin Curtis's thesis. That said, I can't help but observe myself leaning to The Best in some areas and Th

This piece works well as a study in the absurdity of Dustin Curtis's thesis. That said, I can't help but observe myself leaning to The Best in some areas and The Worst in others. For example, our cutlery drawer is full of decent, generic Ikea cutlery - except for a few random pieces that we have accumulated over the years, including an oddball fork and a couple of oddball spoons. I find myself actively avoiding using those oddball pieces because I don't like how they feel in my hand or my mouth. To that extent, I can appreciate just how much hedonic benefit comes from using cutlery that feels "right". On the other hand, my bicycle is well over 20 years old and looks like a piece of garbage. In fact, it was actually retrieved from the garbage several years ago by a friend, who passed it on to me when he heard that my bike had just died. It's heavy and ugly, but these are features, not bugs: the heaviness means I get a better workout riding it, and the ugliness means it's less likely to be stolen when I park it downtown. In short, both approaches to choosing consumer durables have their uses, and it's silly to elevate either to the level of a philosophy of living. ---- See also: http://www.jwz.org/doc/worse-is-better.html http://www.jwz.org/doc/worse-is-better.html