When faced with an eternity of waiting in line at the grand auto parts pavilion, any sane person must conclude that a good book is a valuable commodity in the fight against boredom. Any text will provide images to limit the onslaught of entropy, detailing an almost limitless number of wonders within its pages, marked by one of many distinct voices. One faced with the proposition of reading a new book may ultimately crumble under the breadth of choices; who among us can choose between the history of debit cards and recent case studies in Irritable Bowel Syndrome? Even more difficult is the choice between Jane Eyre and a manual concerning the erroneous consumption of toothpaste. You may approach the choice by enlisting the aid of an avid reader–pick their brain and hope they have suggestions based upon what they know about you. Ultimately, you just met them in this line, and they won’t make a better choice for you than you would after sufficient exploration of a public library. It’s too bad you’re stuck waiting here, and all you have in your clutches is a trifold pamphlet describing the acquisition and treatment of genital warts.

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