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It will come as no surprise to frequent readers of this blog that I'm writing about this indigo shop coat from Kapital, because it's right up my alley. It's so far up my alley I had to contact the Department of Sanitation to schedule a bulky item pickup, but was subsequently caught in an endless call tree and now refuse to use any form of phone. Why is it so hard to throw shit out? Why must I be punished for buying, using, and eventually replacing a couch? Why don't I just start setting all my refuse on fire? Everybody loves fire, right? Right? I only ask because I don't have time for proper sanitation procedures. All my free time is tied up in writing about Japanese-made belted shop coats -- an admittedly narrow pursuit, but a noble pursuit all the same. Assuming you disagree with that last statement, I invite you to imagine waking up in a world in which I'm not writing some tangential nonsense about expensive garments: is that what you want for your children? For your children's children? For your friend's children, whom you pretend to like, think are cute, and definitely not despise with all your being? Tell me true, is that the reality in which you wish to dwell? Tell me. We stand on the precipice now, you and me. Don't look down. Think of shop coats. Focus. Don't look down. Think of -- I said don't look down! -RB
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