Middle-of-the-day drinking is now socially acceptable.
You’re less likely to be run over by a douchebag scheduling a chest waxing on his BlackBerry.
Moving back in with your parents will be like a mini family reunion.
83 percent less “boo-yah!“ in the Lower Manhattan area
The hunch that someone you hated as a child is now ruined
A guaranteed 10-plus years of wrenching new Bruce Springsteen material
63-inch plasma TVs are selling on Craigslist for “warm blanket or best offer.“
High-end hookers are now accepting coupons.
Wall Street misdeeds make your crippling online-poker addiction look not so bad.
Pennies are cool again.
You can notify the African child you sponsor that you’ll no longer be able to afford his daily rice ration.
You can feel rich and powerful simply by virtue of owning sunglasses and a cell phone.
The financial collapse finally gives you something to talk to your grandparents about.
Your 1995 Mazda MX-5 is suddenly hot shit.
The economic apocalypse is the perfect distraction from the environmental apocalypse.
Your ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend is only somewhat wealthier than you now.
The increased probability of a nation-sweeping dance craze
The outside chance the United States will erupt into a Mad Max-style action extravaganza
Living a meager, upper-middle-class existence is slightly less humiliating.