Hey everyone. Today I’m going to tell you about my experiences at Goodwill, as opposed to those of the girl in Teen People whose “crush” found some toilet paper sticking out of her underwear, which I’ll talk about next week assuming I still care.
Anyway, in case you didn’t already know, Goodwill is a very important part of the American economy, which has the ability to get rich white people to give away sneakers so smelly that they must be handled with nuclear-radiation jumpsuits. It’s an ingenious operation, which can be explained as follows:
- First, poor people give their clothes to one of those “Donation Centers” they have, in the hopes of helping the poor;
- Next, Goodwill’s crack team of mentally retarded sales associates slap approximately 10,000 sales stickers on each product they receive, all in special colors so bright that they can be seen at the ends of the Milky Way Galaxy;
- After that, rich people buy these clothes, which they put into the donation box at their church, synagogue, shrine, etc. to give to poor people, and the sales associates pocket the money;
- Next, the clothes, after being placed in the donation box, are given back to poor people.
As you can see, this system gives something for everyone:
- Rich people and poor people get the “good feeling” of giving to others;
- The sales associates get money;
- The poor people get their clothes back.
See? What an amazing cycle! I bet you’re all ready to go out and buy their $15 Betamax recorders as we speak!
Anyway, though, so we went to the local Goodwill on Coors, as opposed to the one on Unser in Rio Rancho, the latter of which has nothing but the old rotten shoes and furniture so old that it would be uglier than the furniture already in our house. This one (the one on Coors) tends to be nice, although we still use approximately one gallon of industrial-strength soap on our hands after we leave, and then soak everything we buy in at least ten gallons of Lysol. This particular time, we didn’t get a whole lot, but once we got a whole chair. I call it “The Governor’s Chair”, and I use it at my computer, playing video games, for party games, etc. It cost $25. It’s a good price, assuming the girl with toilet paper in her underwear didn’t sit on it, although sometimes it tends to give me a rash the size of Delaware.
That is not my point. My point is, I got a good chair one time, and I have to go. Remember to check for the T.P. Girl next week; until then, remember: Working on your computer too long can give you eyestrain!