Several months ago, the United States Treasury decided to put out these spiffy new quarters with individual-state motifs. I’m happy enough with this plan. It’s fun to see what state you got, in a bored-on-the-subway-with-nothing-to-read kind of way.

I must say, however, that I remain deeply confused about the larger concept of marketing money.

What’s the point here?

Is there some alternative form of currency that threatens the US Mint’s domination of the small-change market? Are Treasury officials concerned about a possible incursion of that trendy new euro? Or a sudden return to barter?

Because every few years it seems like we get some massive ad campaign aimed at introducing new money "products," most of which — no, make that all of which — tank.

Remember two-dollar bills?

Remember Susan B. Anthony dollars?

Remember the Sacagawea dollar?

That last one might ring a bell, because it was introduced just a couple of years ago. This is the so-called golden dollar, which features Sacagawea, the 14-year-old Indian guide of the Lewis and Clark expedition.

I’m all for gender and racial diversity when it comes to our coinage. The fact that a world-class Indian killer such as Andrew Jackson appears on our $20 bill is certainly a sick state of affairs in my book.

But I have yet to see, let alone handle, an actual Sacagawea dollar. That is, if you don’t count the ones that stared out from the sides of buses during the media blitz that followed the introduction of the coin. And while I’m willing to grant that there are people who possess some of these golden dollars — and may even use them in everyday life — I myself don’t know any of these people.

Obviously, the folks over at the Treasury are trying hard to make an impression. And good for them. But if Paul O’Neill and company really want to do the public a service, they need to stop creating new coins and start eliminating old ones. At the very least, they should reassess the value of our pocket change based on real-life need.

And here, let me offer my own, uh, two cents.

As for the penny ...

Two words, Paulie: lose it. Love the whole copper thing. Love Honest Abe. But let’s be real here: when’s the last time anyone honestly needed a penny? With the elimination of the penny-gumball machine, the answer is "never." Any form of currency whose most useful application is allowing college kids to trap other college kids in their rooms is begging for a recall.

The same thing goes for the nickel. What a big, dumb, cumbersome coin. I hate nickels. I can’t remember the last time I used a nickel, aside from chucking them at the crows that settle in the ash tree outside my bedroom window and scream bloody murder. The only remotely cool thing about the nickel was the buffalo-head design, and that went out more than 90 years ago. My advice: melt them down and create sculptures we can sell to the Italians.

If you check the US Treasury Web site (something I do with alarming frequency), you will notice two facts.

First: the Treasury has no intention of eliminating the penny.

Second (and more significant): the Treasury has a long record of eliminating coins that didn’t prove useful. Over the years, they’ve done away with the half-penny, the two-cent piece, the three-cent piece, and the 20-cent piece.

So why not just let the penny and nickel go quietly into that good forge?

This would leave us, the coin-using public, with a relatively simple array, which would include the sleek, ever-fashionable dime. Back in my youth, a dime bought you three minutes on a public phone. Or a decent little box of Mike & Ikes. Or half an hour on a parking meter. These days, the dime has become sort of like the penny was 50 years ago — a quaint accessory, still useful in small transactions. So fine, keep the dime.

As for the quarter, I can’t say enough in praise of this coin. I worship quarters. When I go to the bank, I often buy $20 worth just for the cachet of holding them. Their actual value, according to my calculations, is 47.5 cents. (And that’s being conservative. On the open market, I’ve seen quarters go for up to 87 cents — invariably in pennies.) The reason is simple: if you learn to have quarters on you at all times, you will eliminate 90 percent of the parking tickets you might otherwise receive. And this is to say nothing of the joy one experiences when it comes to pay phones, video games, washers and dryers, and vending machines.

In short: the quarter is the gold standard of our small-change culture.

Not so the half-dollar. To me, the half-dollar is like an overgrown nickel. What was the thinking here, folks? Is there some outrageous demand that I’m missing? Actual worth: 10 cents.

The silver dollar: an interesting concept. But again: who’s using the silver dollar? The only answer I can come up with is slot-machine zombies. While I commend them for staying off the street, those of us who don’t play slot machines are at a loss. We keep silver dollars around, feeling vaguely honored, because, well, it’s a dollar and it’s silver — two things we know are valued. But I doubt anyone (save the slot zombies, bless their expendable-income-wasting asses) would notice.

The ugly fact of the matter is that the proliferation of ATM machines and debit cards, along with the steady upward trudge of inflation, has shifted the balance of power from actual money to virtual money.

The fate of the small coins in this kind of bull economy depends on one simple factor: utility.

The time has come to swear off the nostalgia of coinage, and the lame ad campaigns aimed at making minted money seem hip. This may be a sad fact to face for the coin geek inside all of us, in which case I’d recommend a nice relaxing game ... of quarters.

Steve Almond’s new collection of short stories is called My Life in Heavy Metal (Grove). He owns five two-dollar bills. Steve can be reached at sbalmond@earthlink.net