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Bourgeois existence.
The polar bears, frustrated with their bourgeois existence and ready to check out, had traveled to the desert. They deliberated among themselves about whether it would be appropriate to leave a note or if that would be too cliche. But a note is so limiting, it ties you down to your last words. Why not leave everyone with a bit of mystery?
This condition, living a life that is easy to sum up, being cut from the same cloth as everyone else, is the perpetual fear of the intelligent bourgeois, not material status anxiety. Sinclair Lewis almost got it right, but he tried too hard to make his novel comic and Babbitt was not smart enough to really grasp his condition. All of us want some desire, something that moves, the sense of electricity running through the body that everybody has in adolescence. The first time somebody you liked touched you. Will it ever be like that again? Does it matter?
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