Overture To Christmas Shopping

Overture:
  ...BILL MOYERS: Let me show you an excerpt from the speech President Obama made on Wall Street last month, September. Here is the challenge he laid down to the bankers. 

PRESIDENT OBAMA: We will not go back to the days of reckless behavior and unchecked excess at the heart of this crisis, where too many were motivated only by the appetite for quick kills and bloated bonuses. Those on Wall Street cannot resume taking risks without regard for consequences, and expect that next time, American taxpayers will be there to break their fall. 

BILL MOYERS: A reality check. Not one CEO of a Wall Street bank was there to hear the President. What do you make of that? 

SIMON JOHNSON: Arrogance. Because they have no fear for the government anymore. They have no respect for the President, which I find absolutely extraordinary and shocking. All right? And I think they have no not an ounce of gratitude to the American people, who saved them, their jobs, and the way they run the world... Coda:
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I was at the malls recently, shopping for Xmas; one a high end mall, the other decidedly not high end.

In the low end mall, there was nobody but us in Macy's for the 2 Day Sale. However, it was early - around 10:30 AM - and maybe more would be there. We had just been to the Farmers' Market looking for boughs of evergreen, and were in a happy, resinous, and shopping mood.
There were about 40 cars in the entire parking lot, and I suspect that the management told employees to park in front to give the impression that things were hopping.

Next day, at the high end mall Macy's, the store was underpopulated: Xmas season at 6:30 PM and 14 people in the restaurant, and in any section we were in, no more than 4 or 5 other people...the corridors were wide open... I was in the Ladies Section.
I need an assistant. I can't buy such things, so She-who-must-be-obeyed came along.
I have a real fear of lumbering around, turning off balance, and piling into an entire display of underwear and brassieres, and generally causing a commotion.

Well, there was a display of what appeared to be sports brassieres - or heavy duty numbers, sort of like the dreadnoughts or iron-clads of the trade - right bloody next to the sales counter, and I did sort of do one of those startled things I do at odd moments, and stepped back from the imperious saleslady who demanded that I fork over the nightgown that "I" ( the marital usage of "I" versus "we" ) had picked out, and where the bloody heck was my Macy's card, eh, buster?!

So I did end up in a kudzu of bras; they were on a pivoting stand, so I was sort of like a lamely decadent Alexander Calder motion sculpture mixed with Magritte: ceci n'est pas un bustier, all with undertones of sophomoric humour.
In short, I was in my milieu and doing what I do best. She-who-etc. was trying to pretend she did not know me, as she always does at high end places.

I ask her exactly which one of her snooty friends she will meet that I would be a cause for embarrassment: Mrs. Vanderbilt, perhaps? If Conny Vanderbilt could see me now, in my Maurice Sendak Where The Wild Undergarments Are Christmas, she would be shocked.
As it was, there were only a few kids of Asian descent to witness this, as they had been standing in front of me in line: they were perfect little brutes of charm and intelligence.
One's name was Brit. I know because he had spelled it out for the saleslady, as well as telling her what grade he was in, what age he was, and the price of bullion on the spot market.

He stood staring at me, mouth open. I guess one should aim for childish glee in this type of Xmas display...childrens' eye wide with delight, not wide with amazed disbelief. Anyway, I extracted myself. "Brit?" I said as I walked by the kid.
"What kind of name is that? Brit's a water filter, ain't it."
He ran to his mum.

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