WAL-MART IS RUINING MY MARRIAGE

Psychologist I. M. Phoggie is conducting a session in his office with new patient, Simon Shutout.

"It's nice to meet you, Simon. Mind if I call you Simon? We like to keep things informal here."

"It's OK, Dr. Phoggie."

"Well, Simon, what are you here to see me about?"

"It's my marriage, sir. It's going to hell in a handbasket."

"Tut, tut, Simon. That's not very scientific. People don't use handbaskets anymore. Today it's purses and wallets and totes."

"My marriage is in trouble, going to hell in a tote, if that suits you, sir."

"What seems to be the trouble, Simon?"

"Wal-Mart is the trouble. Wal-Mart is killing my marriage."

"Wal-Mart? I don't understand, Simon."

"Not Wal-Mart exactly, sir. But all the stuff in Wal-Mart. You know."

"I don't know, Simon. I have never been inside a Wal-Mart."

"Well, Dr. Phoggie, you should, just to see what it's like."

"What is it like, Simon?"

"Too many clothes selling at too low a price. It's like selling Ecstasy for a penny."

"You mean to say that your wife is hooked on Wal-Mart's low prices?"

"Yes, sir, and that's not the half of it."

"What's the other half?"

"She can't throw anything out. She still has her high school gym shorts."

"Simon, I still don't see how this causes you trouble in your marriage."

"Sir, she goes to Wal-Mart every week and buys armfuls of clothes, takes them home and tries to jam them into closets that started to overflow during the Carter administration. Then she starts yelling at me about my being too cheap to buy her a bigger house with more closets."

"Simon, she won't throw anything out? Donate to charity or something like that?"

"No, sir. She says she loves every stitch she has ever bought. She feels her clothes are like her children."

"Simon, you could solve the problem, at least temporarily, by buying her a bigger house."

"A bigger house, Dr. Phoggie? I already have a house with six bedrooms and six baths and we are empty nesters. Buying a bigger house would be crazy. All my friends are downsizing into condos."

"My, my, Simon, that is a big house. You must be well fixed."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"What I am getting at is, you could afford some renovations which would help solve you marriage problem."

"What kind of renovations, Dr. Phoggie?"

"You could convert a bedroom or two into giant walk-in closets."

"Convert bedrooms into closets? That's a fabulous idea, Dr. Phoggie."

"Will that help things out, Simon?"

"Well, I figure each bedroom could take a year and a half's worth of clothing buying, and with four bedrooms to spare, that would add up to six years of peace and marital happiness."

"That's sounds about right, Simon. Oops, now why are you frowning again?"

"What do I do six years from now, Dr. Phoggie?"

"Simple, Simon. Tomorrow you schedule an appointment for your wife, and within six months I'll have her donating everything she owns to Goodwill. You house and your marriage will be safe forever."

"God bless you, Dr. Phoggie."