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At The Mall July 19, 2002

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Bob balked at squeezing his sensible, mid-sized sedan between the fat 44-inch tires of a shiny red hydraulic Toyota pickup truck and a sweltering, oil tanker-sized SUV. But the overflow parking was a half-mile away. “Fine!” Sandi snarled, slamming the passenger door on their vicious argument. “Get heat stroke.” He finally found her in front of Frederick’s of Hollywood. She’d bought a scorpion to even the score. It came with an informative care sheet. ‘Caution: Scorpions will eat until they die.’ It warned. True, Bob concluded later, after tossing a multitude of crickets into the terrarium while his wife napped. That evening she wrapped the bug’s bloated body in a paper napkin and buried it in the garden, next to the tarantula.

Formal Notice of Another Dot.Com Failure: July 10, 2002

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…So then I go, no way! And they’re all, y’know, negative and stuff and go, yo…way dude. So then I go like, bummer, man. I’m sure you all understand…