It’s no wonder we’re in a recession, really. How much money, do you suppose, the big food companies put into retooling all their big machines to give the public what we never wanted in the first place?

I suppose poptop cans perform a useful function for soft drinks, if you like soft drinks. But I can’t remember the last time I said to myself, “Gee, I sure wish I had a poptop can to wrestle with when I’m making supper, that will resist all my efforts to pull it open, until my most vulnerable moment when it unexpectedly gives way, spurts open, and shoots a stream of vegetable juice, or soup, or anything with tomatoes in it all over my sweater.” Really. Do you remember the last time you said that? I didn’t think so.

Still, they insisted on giving them to us, and, like so many other things we never asked for, they’re a disaster, really. You have to work out with finger exercises for three weeks before you can even start to open one up and then your cleaning bill could pay off one of your credit cards every month. (But only one.)

Which reminds me of the next thing I can do without, except, of course, I won’t, and that is my credit cards. I try to pay them off every time, but, still, they do tend to spring nasty surprises on you at the end of the month, which is a time when you can least afford nasty surprises. Just once, I’d like to spring a nasty surprise on my credit card company, but the only way I can come up with is to close my account. Somehow I don’t think they would mind that nearly as much as I would. Have you noticed how difficult revenge can be these days?

Here’s something else I’m going to stop using in 2009, and that is those little shopping carts at Martin’s. Oh, they’re cute and handy, I give you that. And they can raise your miles-per-hour by half at least, in place of those lumbering old elephants, the regular shopping carts. But here’s the catch — they have a narrow-gauge wheel width that constantly gets in the way of my feet, which I tend to lift with every step. Probably if I wore in-line skates to push the carts, I’d have no problem, but I doubt if the store permits them.

I’m probably the only person in the world who would like to get along without my next item — T-shirts. What is it with T-shirts, anyway? They are all ugly as sin, but people adore them. I know some people who would wear a T-shirt to their own funerals, if they had the choice And, reader, if I ever complimented you on one, I lied. I do not know of a single person in the history of the world, including Cleopatra and J-Lo, who could ever possibly look her/his best in a T-shirt. The neckline is unflattering and the fit is atrocious. When you think of all the poor little cotton plants that are sacrificed to make this country’s hu-normous backlog of T-shirts, it’s enough to make you weep. Me, anyway, for I am very sensitive.

I’m getting tired of shows that give prizes to show biz folks. Oscars, Golden Globes, American Music Awards, Emmies, is there any end to these stage awards for people basically doing nothing but showing off? (And I say this as one who enjoys showing off whenever possible myself.) I don’t know any other profession that offers such a huge amount of self-recognition to its top earners, and it’s getting to the point where I don’t even watch the first half hour to see the fashions anymore. The clothes are looking about as tired as everything else.

Finally, let me emphasize that I am not trying to be insensitive to the culture of our time. I mean, at my age, I have lived through three or four of these cultures, and you get used to it. You might not like it but you get used to the multiple rings through multiple orifices, and tattoos, and even beards and mustaches, which some of my own nearest and dearest are deeply convinced are becoming. I don’t know about that, but they are, at least, endearing, giving the impression of little ungroomed puppy dogs, and you know I love puppy dogs.

Let’s look at the history of hair for a moment. Hair, it seems is a hallmark of mammals, and has been found in archaeological digs from as far back as 210 million years ago. (This was in the newspaper some time ago, honest.) So, would I disapprove of anything with such a lengthy pedigree? Of course not. What I do disapprove of is stopping hair in its tracks — but only just. What really annoys me deep into next year is — stubble.

Every man I see with stubble looks like Jesse James to me. (For half my readers, who is under 50, that was a famed criminal of yore — very yore.) And how do they do it anyway? Is there a razor that purposely skims off the top, like cream from milk, and leaves the rest? Maybe they just use really bad razors. Or do men who sport stubble have to think ahead so carefully that they shave, say, 24 hours before the required hair style is called for? That couldn’t be right because they would have to stay out of public sight for 6-12 hours until the proper depth of five o’clock shadow develops when they want to look their “best,” which would call for tricky planning.

However they do it — and despite the finished product, you have to admire the dedication — they always end up looking like really nasty customers. At my age, folks, I just don’t find that very exciting.

Anyway have a Happy 2009. Preferably, without stubble?

Maude McDaniel is a Cumberland freelance writer. Her column appears on alternate Sundays in the Times-News.