While making my way home sleepily following a Tryptophan-laced gorging of Herculean proportions, my wife and I passed by the local Wal-Mart at an ungodly hour and I remarked that the parking lot was filled to capacity. "Black Friday," she mumbled drowsily with just a hint of world-weary condescension. I then looked more closely and since I saw no fires blazing or police barricades set up, I let it go at that. This morning's Drudge Report revealed the maelstrom that had been reported scant hours before: security guards maced, customer's robbed, a Victoria's Secret in shambles -- presumably by the softer gender seeking the clothing of love -- and the assorted arrests and bad blood that comes from coveting that which resides in thy neighbor's cart. I suppose anything short of seven people being shot to death in a Nebraska mall is a measured victory for merchandisers and security staff that have grown wise to what inevitably occurs when material scarcity fails to achieve parity with demand for iPhones, Elmos,....
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