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Perhaps They Literally Mean "Do It Yourself"

Because having ample savings in the bank is such a humdrum way to live your life, I bought a house earlier this year. Only because my definition of "ample savings" does not match the Bay Area real estate market's definition for "adequate down payment," I bought a fixer-upper. That means I spend a fair amount of my free time working on projects to bring my house up to code. And that means I spend an equally fair amount of my free time at the Home Depot.

Coincidentally, this also means I spend a fair amount of my free time choking down blistering rage.

I hate Home Depot. I hate it with the same fiery hostility I would feel if Satan himself were to spring forth from the gates of Hell and open a chain of big-box retail outlets stocked with shelf after shelf of human misery. I hate the Home Depot's cluttered, overwhelming aisles. I hate its apparent rejection of easily identifiable categorization and easy-to-decipher organization. Because of Home Depot, I now hate the color orange.

But mostly, I hate the Home Depot's television commercials, which -- even by low standards of the advertising industry -- are peppered with lies and false promises.


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