In the 1950s, toasters were made to last. Faulty elements were replaced at home, or appliances were sent back to shops' repairs departments and, once fixed, returned by bicycle delivery boys.
Then, in the 1970s, when the economic growth-stimulant effect of WWII waned - along came planned obsolescence - someone's bright idea to create artificially the constant growth capitalism requires, by making stuff so flimsy that when it wore out, it was cheapest not to mend, darn, tinker or fix, but to throw it away and buy another.
The idea took off. The unsustainable result - the throwaway society - has been disastrous for both planet and people: precious resources plundered, workforces exploited, slave wage-rates exported with cheap imports, landfills full of toxic waste, local manufacturing wiped out, and the very climate allegedly imperilled - all for the umpteen billionth crappy toaster to pay for someone's Lear jet.
Back then I thought, what will they do next when it all turns to custard? Jokingly I speculated, perhaps they'll learn how to sell nothing.
After all churches had done it for centuries - selling answers to prayers, indulgences and salvation - and 20th century conceptual artists - such as Marcel Duchamp who tossed paper scraps off a balcony, and the artist from Verona who canned his navel lint - were onto it too.