The cheapness of all of the cheap crap inspires me to buy yarn, plastic animals & astronauts, lipstick I'll never use, cards I'll forget to give, a shovel that will soon break. Why must the size and girth of your wares perpetually represent the facsimile of so many easy, cheap pleasures, only to leave me underwhelmed, like cheap internet porn?

You suck me and somehow get me to buy into your campaign, like so many presidential candidates and other aspiring dictators. Then, just as I punch my supersecret debit card pin number and approve the purchase, you cease to care about me, like so many voters exiting the poll booth.

The thrill is gone, but you know I'll be back sooner than I think.

You love me and leave me. Why oh why must I repeatedly fall victim to your cheap thrills, like a compulsively overdosed speed addict out for more as soon as the thrill is gone?