Fuck You Too, Target

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So here I am, trying to buy a hat with a brim to go rafting.  Because that’s who I’ve become, a man who not only needs to wear a hat whenever sun exposure is a possibility, but a hat with a brim that goes all the way around.  Like an old woman working in her garden.

There is a modest selection of hats in the Target Men’s department.  By the way, at some point “modest” has come to mean “not nearly enough.”  Think about it.  “I would say his penis is modestly sized.”  Yeah?

So I pick one up, and remembering how my previous year’s hat turned into a soggy taco shell on my head, I decide to take a look.  Lo and behold, same fucking tag.

Where to begin.

Oh, okay, how about we begin with “100% paper”?  How this is even constructed of paper is kind of beyond me.  This is not a drawing of a hat.  This is an actual 3D hat that can be worn on a human head.  How it is possible to construct it from paper is a mystery, to be certain, but the WHY of using papercraft to make apparel is the part that really gets me.

And then we get to “exclusive of decoration.”  Okay, so in the clothing section you have a bunch of hats, and many of these hats are to be considered decorations?  Who the fuck is decorating their home with shitty paper hats sold at Target?  And why?  And can we kill them?  Can we FIND them and KILL them?  Because holy fuck, you’re in an entire store full of things that could potentially decorate your house, and what do you go for?  “I’ll take the paper fedora, thanks.   That’ll look great sitting on the mantle.  Oh, wait.  IT’S MADE OF COMBUSTIBLE FUCKING PAPER, SO I GUESS I’LL GODDAMN FUCKING PASS!  PPPPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!”

Oh, Target.  Don’t think you get out of trouble by saying that the goddamn thing is for decoration.  That’s like me cooking a shitty meal and saying it’s meant for throwing in the garbage purposes only.  You KNOW people are going to wear these shits.  Why make it like this?  Why would you do this to us?

God, dear god do I wish I’d won the chance to take a survey at the register.  Fuck.