Malls

I hate malls. I know that probably sounds elitist, but I hate malls, they are the opiate of the people, the poppy-gum of the plebs. My idea of Hell is to be sentenced to spend all Eternity in a mall at Christmas. Just imagine listening to "Jingle bell Rock' for literally the billionth time. Everytime I hear "Jingle bell rock" I hear the dirty lyrics that are not infrequently sung (what rhymes with rock, gentle readers?). Malls are a denial of humanity, temples of ugliness, big machines for wringing spare cash out of the poor. It's no coincidence that Santa is an anagram of Satan. Sit on his lap, the old pervert? No thanks, look what Santa's got in his trousers for you little girl, eeew. And don't forget to go completely manic trying to have the perfect Xmas. You've heard of Bridezillas, what about Christmaszillas, rushing and pushing, scouring the city for the perfect present, the perfect foods, the perfect decorations and the perfect table settings, women (it's nearly always women) with drawn tense faces, desperate to show to the world that they can cope, that they are In Control, that the Perfect Christmas is only a little more effort, a little more expenditure away.
Here endeth today's rant.