What's so bad about dumpster diving anyway?

I'm going to share a little story with you that could be the end of my career as an even marginally-respected financial writer. Or, perhaps, it could establish my credentials as an uber-thrifty guy. Back when I was in high school, I was walking on the beach at night and stumbled on a nice Nike sweatshirt. It had some seaweed stuck to it and was soaked from the ocean. But it was definitely my style. And so I picked it up, took it home, washed it and -- voila! -- a wonderful, good as new Nike sweatshirt.

It gets worse: fast forward 24 hours. I was working at a candy store in a marketplace not so far from that beach when a strapping young football player walked over to me and inquired about where I'd gotten my sweatshirt. I told him the truth and he asked if I wouldn't mind giving it back. So I was cold that night, having just relinquished my new-found sweatshirt. My boss was standing there watching the whole thing, and actually saw fit to give me a 50 cent an hour pity raise, he said: "So you can buy your own sweatshirt!"

But in Germany, they're taking thrift to a whole new level. I'd probably fit in well. According to The Wall Street Journal, sifting through your neighbors cast-offs while they wait for the dump-truck is considered perfectly normal -- admirable even. As one man put it, "Consumption is nothing good. It brings evil into the world."

Couldn't have said it better myself. In any case, thrift is a wonderful thing: It saves money, keeps us out of debt, and it's wonderful for the environment.

So now I'm not ashamed of my trash-picker ways. It doesn't mean you're poor or trashy: it means you're smart.