Oh, Skymall, how many times have you reduced my airborne heart rate with promising cures for problems I never knew I had? With aesthetics heretofore unimaginable, and the fantasies they provide? Who wants a Garden Yeti? (No, really, who are these people? What are they like? Are they being ironic or sincere? Would I like them?) How will we learn to fly without that soothing cornucopia of absurdity and possibility at our fingertips?

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