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Texas ISD School Guide
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Black Friday
By:C Weaver

Another Thanksgiving meal devoured and here I sit with a back that is thrown out. I would love to be able to tell you that I injured my lumbar region playing a game of full contact football with a large group of even larger men. But that would be dishonest. I could even tell you that I hurt myself doing a touch down dance while watching a football game on the TV after today’s Thanksgiving dinner, but again that would not be the truth.

In all honesty, I threw my back out lifting the afternoon edition of the newspaper. This occurrence did nothing for my male ego, to say the least. However, it is not a matter of me being out of shape that caused this injury, but rather the large amount of after Thanksgiving sales advertising circulars that were encased in said newspaper.

For years, I have prophesized that the busiest shopping day of the year, or “Black Friday” as it has come to be known, would do me physical harm and today the prophecy has come true. It is important to know that shopping is my 976th favorite thing to do. Its rank drops to 3000th when it is done at 5am, and hits rock bottom when the possibility of a physical altercation between myself and a senior citizen over the last bagel toaster is thrown in the mix. Personally I blame the corporate leaders of the stores that put out these ads. It is their intention to bring hoards of overzealous, sleep-deprived consumers into their stores on the off chance that they will actually have one of the fantastic deals that they have advertised.

Your chance of obtaining one of these fantastically low-priced items is about the same chance you have of capturing a live Big Foot, and teaching it to do Minnie Pearl impressions while riding a unicycle.

Even if you do manage to get the super low-priced item you were after, you will usually find that somewhere between the store and home, you have failed to read the fine print. According to the fine print, the item you thought was only $20, is actually $2000 and only becomes $20 after thirty mail in rebates, a two pint blood donation and your agreement to tattoo the logo of the store on your forehead.

After all that, you still have the other shoppers to deal with who are no less dangerous than a constipated tiger. Some may say that I am exaggerating this point, but I only wish I were. All one has to do is read the paper the day after the sales. Every year since I can remember, there has been an incident which includes someone being physically harmed in the midst of the controlled chaos that is “Black Friday” shopping.

This incident will usually involve the hottest toy of the year, a normally placid soccer mom, and a beleaguered store clerk. Invariably, the store clerk will be stocking the hottest toy of the year on a shelf when the normally placid soccer mom comes along and realizes that her child or children will be the object of public shaming if they do not receive said hottest toy of the year.

The toy usually comes in a variety of colors, one of which is the most sought after. The normally placid soccer mom is now a raving lunatic who begins tearing apart the shelf looking for the sought after color. When the toy in the desired color is not found, the raving lunatic (placid soccer mom) turns her rage to the clerk. Somewhere along the way, the raving lunatic’s wiring will get crossed and she will believe that by beating the store clerk about the head and body with the hottest toy of the year (in the wrong color) the proper toy will somehow appear.

Eventually the police will be called, the raving lunatic will return to her normally placid soccer mom state and start a media campaign about how she is the victim in the whole situation and will rally support from other normally placid soccer moms who do not want their children to be publicly shamed for having the wrong color of the hottest toy of the year.

The clerk will live the rest of his or hers days in a place where they serve green Jell-o at every meal and use blunt scissors.

Tis the season!

C Weaver

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