“Daddy’s Gonna Pay for Your Crashed Car” is a quirky U2 song from the Zooropa album (1993). It’s always struck me as a commentary on greed and excess, but the recent economic stimulus plan has really helped me see it in a specific context. As with many U2 songs, this one has taken on a new life and a fresh interpretation due to a particular situation.
Millions of Americans received their stimulus rebates today, over a hundred million more will receive them in the coming weeks. The story that is being lived out is almost surreal: here’s some money, go out and spend it so that the American economy will be healthy. Not a very hopeful story. Nor is “Daddy’s Gonna Pay.” Check out my previous posts if you’re interested in some theological problems with the government's “big give.”
You're a precious stone, You're out on your own
You know everyone in the world, But you feel alone
Daddy won't let you weep, Daddy won't let you ache
Daddy gives you as much as you can take
A-ha sha-la, a-ha sha-la, Daddy's gonna pay for your crashed car
The economic stimulus plan was designed by Washington to infuse the economy with $168 billion dollars of buying power. The message: be a good American and spend, spend, spend. The government says the answer to our economic anxieties, high gas and food prices, and deflated home values is a little extra cash. “Daddy” will watch out for us, take care of us, reassure us. No room for weeping or aching here. Contentment and moderation have no place in this story. Three thousand advertisements a day work to reinforce the notion that pain is bad and that happiness can be bought. Get as much as you can take.
A little uptight, You're a baby's fist
Butterfly kisses up and down your wrist
When you see daddy coming, You're licking your lip
Nails bitten down to the quick
A-ha sha-la, a-ha sha-la, Daddy's gonna pay for your crashed car
Remember that experiment with Pavlov and his dogs? He learned that dogs salivate even before they receive food; this is a conditional reflex associated with the mere presentation of food. The stimulus in our situation is money, the response is the irresistible need to buy something. In fact, that is exactly the response Washington wants. The economy is a junkie searching for a fix. Gratification comes in the short term, but the health of the organism is certainly in jeopardy. So we wait for our checks, salivary glands working over time, licking our lips.
You've got a head full of traffic, You're a siren's song
You cry for mama, But daddy's right along
He gives you the keys to a flamin' car
Daddy's with you wherever you are
Daddy's a comfort. Daddy's your best friend
Daddy'll hold your hand right up to the end
A-ha sha-la, a-ha sha-la, Daddy's gonna pay for your crashed car
Isn’t it nice to know that our government, both Republicans and Democrats (there’s no difference on this issue), is with us? The political spin on the stimulus package is strong. Congressional representatives feel our pain; our president has only our best interests in mind. I never had so many best friends! It’s good to know that no matter how stupid or self-indulgent or materialistic or in debt I am, “Daddy’s” gonna pay for my metaphorical crashed car.
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday's alright...
In one of Jesus’ parables he tells the story of a very self-righteous self-confident man who found great success and had acquired vast wealth. The man said to himself, "You have plenty of good things laid up for many years. Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry." (Luke 12:19, NIV). There is a kind of arrogance in this man’s perspective. He believes he is immune to the troubles that plague those without money and resources. He is a self-made man. It’s the same kind of arrogance that prods, “Just be a good citizen and spend your rebate check at Sears or Best Buy, and everything will be alright.”
If you want to experience, and not just listen to, the song, you must watch it on the Zoo TV tour from Sydney. Bono plays Mr. MacPhisto, that decrepit persona of a has-been rock star who bears a striking resemblance to Mephistopheles. It’s not a coincidence that pyrotechnic canons shower the crowd with paper play money just when the boys sing “Sunday, Monday..., Saturday's alright.” Hmm, a shimmering devil offering monetary rewards to a blindly addicted populace only concerned with their own addictive materialistic cravings…. Sounds vaguely familiar. See MacPhisto sing “Daddy’s Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car” here. See MacPhisto’s speech following the song here.
People of the former Soviet Union
I've given you capitalism
So now you can all dream of being
As wealthy and glamorous as me
-MacPhisto