It’s official. The Christmas season is upon us. I know this, of course, because homes and storefronts are decked out in shiny lights and plastic garland, advertisers are imploring me to buy expensive jewelry and cars for my loved ones, and this past Friday the national blood sport known as Black Friday took place.
Class and dignity are overrated. But cheap crap? That stuff’s priceless.
Oh, Black Friday how you simultaneously amuse and sicken me. Each year millions of people lineup at ungodly hours outside of box stores for the privilege of purchasing shit they don’t need at rock bottom prices. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m all for buying shit I don’t need, I just refuse to stand in line at 10pm on a holiday to do it. Call me an elitist, but I’d much rather stroll leisurely into my corporate chain of choice at a reasonable hour and pay a little extra for my sweat shop produced goods. That’s just how I roll.
In addition to the moral superiority I feel by not taking part in this annual commercial clusterfuck, I also get the added pleasure of remaining somewhat human while millions of lesser people turn into Darwinian savages in order to get their hands on a $38 blu-ray player.
Think I’m being hyperbolic?
Compare the feasting vultures…
…with the Walmart shoppers at the 1:25 mark.
The only difference between Black Friday shoppers and these avian scavengers is that the vultures clearly have a more dignity. After all, they need to fight each other off and ravage that downed beast to survive. It’s what they do. It’s what they’ve always done. Human beings, on the other hand, don’t need IPads and Xbox games to continue on. Not to mention we live in an abundantly glorious age in which hand-to-hand combat is not required in order to procure goods and services.
So this year I once again chose not to take part in Black Friday. Instead I watched the carnage unfold via news reports and YouTube posts, sat on high and piously judged the throngs of people who marched into stores for underpriced merchandise. I accept that my point of view might make me a self-righteous asshole. But on the bright side, this self-righteous asshole will never have his ribs broken while fighting off a horde of blood thirsty bargain shoppers for a 50-inch TV.
Mr. Sunshine 