I would like to take this paragraph to publicly announce that I am now officially 100 percent absolutely positively without a doubt strongly considering not ordering quite as much from J. Crew, unless they happen to be having a good clearance sale.
Yes, that is just how seriously I feel about this. Which is why I, as a concerned taxpayer and receiver of mails, have decided to inform the American Public of my seriousness. At which point the American Public, led by its forefather, John Q. Public (middle name: "Stephen"), will infallibly ask the logical question: "Eric, are you just mad because you are one of those stupid people who buys anything you see in catalogs? Boy, those people are stupid! Ha, you idiot!"
Well, Mister Concerned Public, thank you very much, but I am not one of these people you so insultingly allude to. I AM THEIR LEADER. I will not hesitate, at a moment's notice, to spend hundreds of dollars on things I see in catalogs, and this includes the page numbers. It has gotten to the point where, instead of mailing me the actual catalogs, companies have simply begun sending every single item they manufacture directly to my mailbox, which is fine, except for when Boeing does it.
Here is an actual conversation between myself and a random person whom I met on the street, taken from just over six weeks ago, which should serve to illustrate my point:
Random Person: "Excuse me, Eric, would you like to purchase your own demise, at the hands of ornery sea lions?"
Eric: "Is it in a catalog?"
Random Person: "Yes."
Eric: "Then yes."
Which brings us right to the point of this column: Regardless of how much some of us don't want catalogs delivered to us, we will always receive them anyway, due largely to a person named Emily Woods.
Emily Woods, for those of you not familiar, is the co-founder and chairperson of "J. Crew," who, coincidentally enough, is the co-founder and chairperson of Emily Woods. Emily is a marketing genius, as is evident by the fact that if you so much as set foot in any college town in America, you will find yourself automatically outfitted in J. Crew clothing. It is downright eerie. What is more, as soon as you are able to visibly discern (through eyesight) any single article of J. Crew clothing in the external world, it is no longer in style. Thus, instead of having THIS season's striped wool ribbed turtleneck, in gray heather, you absolutely MUST have NEXT season's striped wool ribbed turtleneck, in gray heather. But goodness, never wear it, or look at it, or make mention of it, or even make mention of Heather, who is (as you should know already if you read the last sentence!) five foot six and three quarters.
Another integral part of J. Crew's marketing success is that, unlike everyone else, ever, J. Crew does not believe in seasons. While many other companies are releasing their "Winter" catalog, so named because it corresponds with -- this is an actual fact -- Winter, the J. Crew people are feverishly working on several thousand catalogs of their own for this exact same time period, subdividing the particular season to the point where each catalog stands for, on average, two or three electrons.
But all of this begs the question. "Please, question, I AM BEGGING YOU, do not send us any more catalogs," it says. Luckily for the world, however, I have already come up with a plan to cut down the number of J. Crew catalogs that arrive, roughly every eight days, via U.S. mail:
a) Put all J Crew catalogs into a big pile.
b) Burn the pile.
c) Burn your mailbox.
d) Burn the printing press.
e) Burn the J. Crew corporate headquarters.
f) Burn the world.
g) After roughly eight days, receive new J. Crew catalog in the mail.
h) Amazing.
If you happen to be the type of person who spends the majority of your time on the internet, and you conduct the majority of your commercial apparel transactions on-line
a) Go outside and interact with people. (Or even lawn ornaments.)
And so, the moral of our story is apparent. The American Public, led by You the Reader, should waste no time putting things into big piles and burning them. In all actuality, it doesn't matter which types of things the American public chooses to put into piles, so long as lots of things burn, and our message is heard loud and clear! And that message is, "We are not going to take it anymore. Or at least not for less than 40 percent off regular retail price, and not if they don't offer it in gray heather." And if the authorities attempt to pick you up for disturbing the peace, just tell them that it can't possibly be true what they say, that sea lion attacks ordered via catalog take exactly six weeks to take full effect.