"Well, Little Red-Headed Girl, I'm here at the Christmas tree lot because I want to numb myself to my feelings of hollow existential dread by demanding that a living, growing thing that has never done any harm to me or mine die a slow, agonizing death after having its vital organs removed with a handsaw. Then I can feel authentic and superior to those crass, commercial sheep who make up the bulk of humanity. Anyway. Would you like to go get some hot chocolate later? Wait! Where are you going? At least tell me your name!"