Couple things. First of all – Tryptophan. It’s real, as the endless morsels of turkey slid to me under the table so surreptitiously by The Bipeds drunken Thanksgiving guests now attest. As such, on this national day of avarice and materialism, I am rendered prostrate and deeply apathetic as bipeds across the land thrill to the prospect of paying half-price for one more needless widget previously marked up by 50% of it’s normal cost. Bipeds – ya gotta love ‘em.
But really, who am I to judge? In the spirit of crass commercialism, I’m duty bound to remind you that this delightful sweatshirt and corresponding T-shirt will no longer be available as of this coming Monday. Unlike the useless dreck you’ll stand in line to pay for at whatever retail pit of despair you favor on this day of unbridled cupidity, these timeless collectibles will be shipped directly to your door, and give you the self-satisfied glow that can only come when you know a portion of your hard-earned gelt will benefit a truly worthwhile cause. The details are here, and happily, well-sequestered from my farts, which appear to be one more unintended consequence of consuming my weight in turkey.
Good night, and good luck,