Ah, Christmas in America. ‘Tis the season for adventures in commercialism…
Yesterday I received a holiday brochure in the mail. The front looked like this:
Elves bowling. What could be more “Christmasy” than headless Elves bowling? The back of the brochure relayed a very exciting supplemental message, sure to please anyone interested in holiday bowling and every attorney with some time on their hands:
How great is that? The two hours of unlimited bowling doesn’t really excite me, but two whole hours of unlimited shoes? Who could pass that up? Not me.
So tomorrow I am taking my family, friends and neighbors and we are all going to descend, en mass on our local bowling alley and demand two hours unlimited access to all of their shoes. All of them. For two whole hours. That’s what the advert says, and that is what I expect.
I anticipate resistance from either the proprietor or his staff. They may not want to provide me with two hours of unlimited shoes. I anticipate him or them saying that the advert promises two hours of unlimited bowling, not unlimited shoes.
But that makes no logical or grammatical sense. First, all bowling is unlimited. You pay your money and you get to bowl. There is no way to limit that, so offering unlimited bowling is meaningless.
But shoes are always limited – one pair per customer. So, I believe that it is reasonable to construe the advert as promising unlimited access to shoes, and that is something worth paying for.
I want to get a new pair every five minutes. I want five or six pair near by “just in case.” I want them to give me shoes being worn by other bowlers. That’s right – when it comes to shoes, I want it all. I want unlimited shoes for two hours.
And why am I restricted to bowling shoes? The advert doesn’t say “bowling shoes.” It says “shoes.” I want a pair of Manolo Blahniks.
I want my shoes. Keep ’em coming.
Merry Christmas, everyone!
This entry was posted on December 24, 2010 at 12:46 p12 and is filed under American Decline, Early Elizabethan Knock-Knock Jokes, Paying Attention, Small Town America, The Wilhelm Scream, What are you sick or something?, Why do people in other countries talk funny?. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.