THE BORN LESAR

Me, shop on Black Friday? Are you nuts?

(This is from 2014. My views have not changed since then. Probably never will. Just sayin.') Obviously not knowing I despise large crowds as much as a vampire hates dazzling sunlight (sometimes when I really want to stress a point I pull out my make-believe monster analogies), a lady asked me last night if I went shopping on Black Friday. No, really, she did. With a straight face. And she wasn't drunk, I don't think, at least I hope not, 'cuz she was cutting my hair at the time. Oh, well, as long as my sideburns are the same length, no harm done.

Of course, the answer to her question was a simple no, but I sort of emphasized it a bit by snorting through my nose like an asthmatic feral pig and tossing her an 'Are you nuts!?!?' look out of the corner of both eyes (which takes great concentration, by the way). I proceeded to tell her that I'd rather be dipped in melted lard and rolled in bacon bits and set in a cage of underfed hyenas than stand in line outside a department store to buy an iPad for 15 percent off, but she turned on her trimmer and buzzed the fuzz off the back of my neck at the same time to effectively drown out my rant. And here I thought she really cared.

Anyone who really cares about me -- or has spent the longest 12 minutes of their life stuck with me in a clinic waiting room, for that matter -- knows that shopping and me go together like Islamic terrorist suicide bombers and life insurance salesmen. I avoid going into malls and stores and boutiques and markets at nearly all costs, especially when they're open, and really don't care if they're giving away 60-inch plasma television sets or offering free perfume sample bottles to the first 300 people who line up in the dark in sub-zero weather to get a chance to sign up for an Internet coupon for a 12 percent discount on a new line of Calvin Klein clothing that hasn't even been designed yet. Unless, maybe, it's skinny jeans. I mean, as long as I can snap 'em below my pudge point, I think I rock 'em pretty well. No, don't try to picture it. There's really no pay-off.

Although there's already less than a zero percent chance (a mathematical possibility for those of us who think pi is best when warmed in the microwave and served with ice cream), further lessening the likelihood of me being seen within long-range Tomahawk missile distance of a store the day after Thanksgiving is the complicating detail of it being the seventh day of the 9-day Wisconsin deer hunting season, which is only slightly longer than this sentence. Trust me, there is no bargain on this planet that could convince me to leave the comfort of a tree stand for the chaos of a Wal-Mart electronics section with 30 percent discounts on PlayStation 27 consoles, unless somehow a 12-point buck with a 21-inch outside spread is bedded down in the women's lingerie aisle (hey, they don't get to be that big by hidin' in the hunting section). I don't care if it's 30-below and snowing and blowing and the snot is frozen to my upper lip so hard it'll take surgery to pry it off, I'd never leave the woods for anyplace that has a combination of people, lines, marketable goods, cash drawers and shoppers. No, not all shoppers are people, at least not by my definitions.

I've actually never been in a store on Black Friday to witness the mayhem first-hand, but I've seen television images of greedy throngs of shoppers shoving past guards or tipping over barricades and even fist-fighting with each other to get their hands on the last 'Tickle Me Elmo' for $21.50, although that is a steal. After seeing that violence, that lusty rage, it makes me glad that I'm off in a quiet forest somewhere and just drilling a high-caliber bullet through the vital organs of a docile mammal. I mean, geez, who wants to see all the blood and carnage of a shopping mall, especially on the day after Thanksgiving?

Black Friday also doesn't work very well for me because it's scheduled for more than 48 hours prior to Christmas. Oh, sure, I could do my shopping a month before the holiday, when the selection of products is at its best, but where would the stress be in that? I prefer to wait way past Black Friday, almost to the time when the red kettle people pack it up and head home for Christmas Eve dinner, if I can, and then start the annual routine of buying gifts for family members who may or may not still be alive (always save gift receipts in case that lump on Uncle Walter's throat wasn't really an ingrown hair). By that late in the shopping season, many shelves are conveniently empty, so that sweater your sister-in-law wants now comes only in black, which matches her personality anyway. And yeah, so what if she weighs more than an empty refrigerator and there's just one 'Small' left? She can use it for a cankle warmer.

I think Black Friday is overrated anyway, just a gimmick contrived by retail merchants to lure unsuspecting peop ... oops, see there, I almost said it ... I mean, shoppers, to the stores in drooling droves for a few advertised 'door busters.' I think, in truth, there are no deals to be had, because the dollars you may have saved on the remote-control airplane you bought for your son just got added to the price of the 'Call of Duty: Black Ops' video game you snagged for your husband (by the way, ain't he ever gonna' grow up?) Oh, yeah, and that Samsung Wireless Remote Heated 6G Razr' WI-FI Droid phone/electric razor that you just got for 20 percent off, well, guess what, the Bargain Barn Corp. just canceled its sponsorship of the Feed the Starving Refugees Campaign so it could afford to give you such a sweet price. Yeah? You still feelin' good about playin' Candy Crush on that new device while Abu Doobi and his pregnant wife and nine kids eat Syrian refugee camp rat burgers for dinner?

I suppose I should try to not judge those of you who enjoy shopping in the frenzy of Black Friday, for everyone has their own concept of pleasure. For some, I imagine the feeling of getting that one perfect gift for a loved one, that couldn't be afforded without the massive Black Friday discount, is worth the waiting in line and the elbowing in the aisles.

Me, well, I'm different, I don't like the delirium, the fury, the panic when the crowd realizes the supply of discounted gizmos is running low, the push to get to the head of the line, the shoving, the anger, the greed, the get-it-at-all-costs rage, the violence, the bloodshed. No, I just prefer to kill something that day. But that's just me.