Monday, November 26, 2018
On Black Friday my wife and I were out at The Mall of America.
"Why?" You may ask.
I answer a lot of questions here on this blog. Many of them are very advanced answers that maybe should have been shared with your Senators, Bob Dylan, your local Library Director, or your loved ones. Though they probably weren't.
But this isn't that kind of answer.
We were at Black Friday Mall of America because we had some random shopping business to take care of, and sometimes the timing works and sometimes it doesn't, and we don't quail from a difficult situation.
I mean cumulatively we don't. I always quail some.
They had plenty of Christmas trees at the mall, Santa was there, hidden by an elf. Oh, and there were millions of people, just gobs of them, all over The Mall and in great big, occasionally mysterious, lines. The rest of the city was a ghost town. And all these people at The Mall were buying things so amazing and fantastic that it boggled the imagination. Extraordinary things, one-of-a-kind magical things, all towering enchantingly in their arms.
For myself I got two pairs of socks.
But then I'm an iconoclast.
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