I like to shoplift.
No, I’m not poor. I can afford this stuff easily.
I shoplift for sport. For the thrill. For the challenge.
The problem is, it takes bigger and tougher challenges to get that same thrill.
Once, I’d be on cloud nine after smuggling a candy bar or a nudie magazine out of a convenience store.
Now, I’ve got that shoplifting jones on my back five seconds after I pull the three Weber charcoal grills out of my pants.
It’s not grand theft auto if I smuggle a car out of the dealership in my pants, is it?