confessions of a deleterious mind ... it's immaterial my materialism ...

10 seconds down. Running through the aisles of Target. Collecting my addiction. Collaborating with the devil.

Absolutely no sympathy.

Feeding this addiction is tough work. It takes $25 a trip. It takes $6.34 in gasoline. It takes 35 minutes. It takes 10 seconds.

And this happens, almost, every week.

For what it's worth, I can't stop. I won't stop. So, it's no use having an intervention.

You can't tell me to stop buying DVDs. CDs.

I have to have them.

Playstation games.

I keep getting them.

And this is, by far and away, the worst month. The climax of us materialists. With our iPods. DVD players. Laptops. Plasma screens.

Team America. System of a Down. Dave Chappelle — regardless of his emotional state. nine inch nails. Star Wars.

It's like a stoner finding an ounce for $40.

You cannot pass this up.

There we are. In Best Buy. In Target. Even Wal-Mart. Strolling through he aisles. Waiting in line. Browsing the action figures. The $5 bin.

Looking for our new fix. The special collector's edition of Raging Bull.

The prize.

Kill Bill volumes 1 and 2.

The latest piece of our collection.

Ernest Goes to Camp.

The step-children of history. The middle step-children of history.

A generation that can't live without the Criterion Collection's Rushmore.

What will become of us? What will we do next?

25 years from now.

"Hi, my name is Charles. And I'm an addict."

"Hi Charles."

"I knew I was an addict when..."

10 seconds is up.