Costco is like a sociological terrarium for the human condition, a giant warehouse filled with 72-roll packs of toilet paper and existential despair. If you ever wanted to see humanity unravel over rotisserie chickens and $1.50 hot dog combos, Costco is your ticket. Because somewhere between the industrial shelving and the $8 gallon of salsa, decency stops being a human expectation and starts being a casualty of bulk purchasing.
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