Yes, it’s true: the Cleavers can’t make it on Ward’s salary anymore. What can be done about this dreadful situation?
Answer: not a farging thing.
[T]his is not to say people don’t spend too much money on things they don’t need. It’s just not my place to request the state to keep them from doing so. In any case, I suspect that the impulse to bring all these untidy unhelpful examples of flagrant individualism under the steady hand of the Ministry of Rational Allocation has something to do with that fretful busybody insistence that people are simply not living right. If we had Star Trek replicators in every house that would conjure goods and meals out of boundless energy produced by antimatter teased from a three-micron fissure that opened into a universe populated entirely by unicorns who crapped antimatter in such abundance they were happy we used it up, and used their shiny pointy horns to poke more of it through the aperture into our dimension, columnists would bemoan the disconnect between labor and goods, and the soul-corrupting influence of endless ersatz vegetables. You can’t win. Because you shouldn’t.
This makes a great case for Omaha Steaks as the ultimate Christmas gift: it will piss off the maximum number of the Perpetually Outraged. (Especially if you order the Spiral Sliced Ham.)