Hey Japan! What the hell gives? Three bucks for a goddamn apple? No, it's not $3 for a bag of apples, or for a Swarovsky crystal-encrusted apple. It doesn't shoot lasers from its core or bring you root beer when you're thirsty. It's just a regular old apple. Plain Jane, meet Dull Jack. The very same kind that threw Newton into a raging pissy fit. Hell, I'd rather spend my Marunaka grocery money on things that matter. Like $3 on gourmet potato chips, or towards a book that shows me how to contort my own spine, so as to lick my own butt.
Now there's three dollars well spent.
Oh yeah, and as found in the news the other day, who the shit pays these people? You call that "research"? Cripes, even I could have told you that. And you know what else I could have told you? That men like exhaust fumes and red meat, pancakes, and root beer, and having their shoulders rubbed while they play video games.
I should probably stop researching, otherwise somebody could be out a pretty penny for my front-page 'findings.'