Je deteste...

I went out on Friday morning, rolling into the shopping melee that pretty much passes for a cultural event in America these days. This was not because I'm a masochist, or an Uber-shopper, but because I needed to try and find a computer part and I was going to my parent's in the afternoon. So, morning trip it was.

I didn't find the part, so I wandered over to Kohl's (a midwest store that used to be all about groceries, but is now all about clothes and other department store stuff...an odd transformation if ever there was one...) to see if I could grap a new pair of Levis. I actually need the Levis, it wasn't entirely because I didn't want to do laundry.

I got into the store, put my head down and blasted over to the men's department. Grabbing the jeans, I turned and for the first time saw the utter ridiculosity (I was a sports writer...I'm allowed to make up words...) of the situation.

The line snaked to the back of the store. Fatties as far as the eye could see...clutching their doorbuster deals tight to their corpulent selves. Not an ounce of joy slipped from any of those porky lips. (At this point, I should tell you that I'm really not playing up the extra pounds for a laugh. The majority of the people in line - mainly surly looking women, I might add - were obese.)

The jeans were left somewhere between the men's department and the door. I fled...

I would further describe the horror, but this guy does a much better job of it. I refer you to him.