Talk is Cheap. Hence I Do It Lots.

Money makes the world go round.

So profound are its effects that anymore cranial rapid spinning, causative agent: cash, will centrifuge all remaining goodwill left in me into a pellet of Scrooge-compacted humbug.

Now, I'm cheap. Yes, I'm admitting it. I don't like spending unnecessary money on things I can get for a) free, or b) swindle with no criminal implications attached. And if THOSE fail, there's always Mega Sales to count on.

I mean, seriously. It's a no-brainer. Why would anyone spend a larger sum of funds on something that they basically use for the same duration, exhibiting the same effects? Honestly, a T-shirt from a uber exclusive brand that sets me back onto dollar lunches for two weeks can only get me so far. In the end, I'd probably be so protective over it, that said garment will end up for the rest of it's material life framed in oak over my mantlepiece.

So much so is the logic of the Law of Parabolic Consumption, in that extremes in prices elicit consummate reactions that defy the purpose of action. Couple that with Variables of Miserliness and Outliers of Temporal Punter Insanity, you'll get the perfect cocktail for reasons to be cheap. As me.

Being cheap is synonymous with getting a cut. You must know the golden rule of evasive action against Spending Mines and Bazookas that blow cash out of wallets, pockets, socks and bras.

Have you ever had a paper cut? You know, the little bruise that makes you say "Ouch!"?

Ever notice that how the smallest physical contact with people can often elicit the loudest response?

Try cutting an arm off. Literally. I promise you won't be crying dainty little 'ouches'. In fact, you won't be crying at all. Shock has literally dissolved any semblance of nociceptors you have at your disposal, while your fight or flight reflex gears you up for the inevitable. Adrenaline is coursing through your veins like cheap alcohol in a homeless drunk. Endogenous opoids exterminate fear, replacing them with a bravado that enables you to maneuver out of whatever shit you're in.

But what has that got to do with saving a buck?

Ahhh, young Padawan. You have much to learn. See the huge posters that scream SCAM JOB? Meaning the 'Buy 6 for the price of 5!' or 'Pay 200 bucks per person, and get the 10th person in FREE!'. Those aren't the ones you should be afraid off. Tacky, preying on customer gullibility, the cheapo can dodge those bullets blindfolded.

No. It is not those that Cheap Jedis fear.

Truly fearsome enemies lurk in the dank recesses of places unspeakable, striking when weakness is eminent, backed by the sinister fiend of darkness.

The cheapo does not fear dumbass promotions. The cheapo fears.... HIDDEN PRICES.

Hidden prices, miniscule-print costs. The bane of Cheap shits. The unassuming 500 $ price tag for a dress 70% off, until you ring it up and realize, 500 $ is the price AFTER DISCOUNT. SHOCK. GASP. TWITTER UNEASILY. Or that when you get two scoops of ice-cream for the price of one, you're actually paying a few dollars extra for one scoop on that day, compared to normal days.

We cheap assholes detest those. They threaten our very EXISTANCE.

If we had a choice we would lobby for all sales to be conducted in font size of 89 and above, with production costs tacked underneath price tags using letterheads of 'BEFORE CUT'. Plus, we buy in bulk.

So there you go. Some thoughts by One Who is Cheap, for there will be One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to bind them, One Ring of the cash register to basically scare the crap out of them. It's innate.

We cheapos just can't help it.