Black Friday, Blue Monday, Chartreuse Tuesday

Back in the days of yore, when I was knee-high to a grasshopper and a bushel of dimes only cost a nickel, 'Black Friday' shopping injuries were things that only happened in distant, exotic lands such as Newark and even fabled Oklahoma City.

Last week's Black Friday resulted in a knife fight in our very own Walmart.  I am told that the combatants were locked in a bloody struggle over a discounted set of bedsheets.

Yes.  Bedhseets.  I have to wonder, what battle cry does one shout when charging into a life and death struggle over bedsheets?

Do you yell "Percale!" and then wade in, blade flashing?

Even if you know, don't tell me.  I've never felt very passionate about bedsheets, even if they are selling at a <gasp> fifteen percent discount.

The knife-wielding linen enthusiast will be enjoying the dubious holiday charms of the Lafayette County Detention Center, where I seriously doubt any of the guards dress as festive Christmas elves, at least while on duty.  There, the accused may ponder the error of her ways, and perhaps resolve to shop early at Dollar Tree next year (or in two to five, whichever the judge deems appropriate).

I do not partake in any sort of Black Friday shopping.  Face it, people, aside from a half-dozen strategically-advertised electronic gadgets, the stuff on the shelves is priced the same on Black Friday as it was Routine Thursday and as it will be on Just Another Saturday.  People line up at all hours for the same crap they could have ordered two weeks ago from Amazon without missing a single moment of sleep.

This is why, if I was a betting man, I'd put my money on the cockroaches versus the humans in any kind of long-term existence bet.  You don't see bugs camping out in parking lots because they might save a whole twelve cents on a set of cheap bedsheets.