(thanks again, Good Old Days Returns!) 

Wait, What? “CHECK YOUR HUSBAND??” OK, right! Yeah, you WISH that mall near you or five states away offered this particular service. You’d be dragging that battle-axe out every other day to peruse some shoes just so you could pay a dollar to get tagged, shuffled into the back and woman-handled for a bit while your wifey-poo gets her Blahnik fetish taken care of. And if there’s an artist side of your better half, a trip out for some Secs in the city with a little baggage room squeezin’ on the side? Certeza, porque não? (Você só vai entender essa piada se você falar mal traduzido Português, pela maneira… Obrigado, bing!). I don’t know what film this is from, but I can see this taking off fast in some states where a handful of wealthy fatcats make more than the entire middle class in their area and feel entitled to do endure such treatment on a regular basis. That’s one sure way to make an economy boom – make everyone giddy because those who have the money are making it rain down on those who don’t…

Yeah, right – that trickle down stuff only happens when some drunk bazillionaire “accidentally” pees on his chauffeur who’s trying to extract him from the back seat of that hideous stretch Bentley or has done so, but is trying to keep him away from the koi pond…