REASON #112107

I have seen the mouth of Hell its own firey self, and it is the American Girl Place store. Mother wanted to see it and experience it, because she derives her strength from my pain. Grand old bird, mother.

It is such a cold, efficient machination of parental cash removal, that it would make Uncle Walt himself weep blue, briny, anti-semitic tears.

There's a theatrical presentation. There's a doll hair salon. And a Cafe where girls can dine with their outfit-matching dolls. Or, if they are so deeply unloved that they do not own an American Girl Place doll of their own, they can borrow one for the duration of their meal.

I felt the kind of unclean that could only be resolved by repeated viewings of the virulently wrongheaded anti-punk rock episode of TV's "Quincy," which Tivo was thoughtful enough to snizzzzzag for my own fine self. Mmmmmmmmm. Propagandalicious.