Has Mother Goose gone to the dark side? That was my first thought as I saw the grocery store sign out of the corner of my eye.

Has Mother Goose found a portal from fairy-tale land to Minneapolis? Is she trafficking in exotic meats? Or even other fairy tale delicacies, like mushrooms from beneath the Hookah Smoking Caterpillar or Miss Muffet’s whey or Three Bears Porridge? Will unicorns become extinct even in fairy-tale land?

I must admit that Mother Goose Meats and Purveyor of Rare Delicacies does have a good marketing ring to it. What magical things might Mother Goose procure? Jack’s Bean Dip, the infamous stone soup, Minced Three Blind Mice.

We seem endlessly fascinated by rarity. Rare is good. Rare is even better if you happen to be in possession of said rarity. You become the lucky beneficiary of the laws of supply and demand. Rare painting, rare coins, rare almost anything.

We seem also to often think that rare is synonymous with quality, as if the objects rarity is some inherent part of its nature, as if its rarity is value in and of itself. Not unlike the average hipster who thinks obscure is synonymous for good.

Maybe it’s not a quality issue at all. Maybe that’s just what we tell ourselves. Maybe it’s an ego issue, a transference issue.

My ownership of a rare object or piece of knowledge distinguishes me from you. I have used the rare object to set myself above you, to elevate my ego.

So think twice before you buy the Mother Goose Jumbo Golden Eggs. Who are you buying those for? You or your ego?