Likely Normal

If you can’t find it on Amazon, it probably doesn’t exist. Need a gallon of pickles? A life-sized garden gnome? A toilet paper holder shaped like a T-rex? Congratulations, with just one click, it’ll be on your doorstep in 48 hours—possibly before you’ve even finished questioning your life choices. Amazon is like a magical bazaar run by a slightly unhinged wizard who took customer obsession way too literally. “You want a 12-pack of inflatable unicorn horns for cats? Say no more, fam.”

The sheer variety is mind-boggling. One minute you’re browsing for a phone charger, and the next, you’re deep in the algorithmic rabbit hole, staring at a mystery box of discontinued snack foods from Japan like it’s the answer to a question you never asked. And don’t even get me started on the frequently bought together suggestions. Oh, you’re buying a shovel? May we interest you in a ski mask and a copy of ‘Forensics for Dummies’? Thanks, Bezos, but I swear I’m just gardening.

Then there’s the reviews—the unsung heroes of questionable purchases. Who among us hasn’t been saved by a brutally honest stranger’s takedown of a self-stirring mug that allegedly doubles as a blender The thing sounds like a dying helicopter and only works if you hold it at a 37-degree angle. One star. Meanwhile, the five-star reviews read like fanfiction: “This garlic press changed my marriage. My wife no longer fears my cooking. Worth every penny.”

And let’s not forget the existential dread of same-day delivery. Wait, it’s already here? Did they have this inside my house the whole time? Is Amazon just a front for a teleportation experiment? At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if they started selling actual magic wands—next-day shipping, free returns, and eligible for Prime Wardrobe so you can try out your wizardry before committing.

So here’s to you, Amazon—the place where impulse buys and surrealism collide. You’ve made the impossible possible, the unnecessary irresistible, and my bank account perpetually nervous.