I posted yesterday on the phenomenon of the Paris Hilton fan, wondering aloud how human beings can have so little of a life as to so describe themselves, or permit themselves, by their actions, accurately to be so described.

I brought this up at the dinner table. Now, my wife sells jewelry over the counter at a large department store whose name is an anagram of “Tord and Laylor.” She: “Huh! You don’t know the half of it! I see the same people mooching around the store day after day. Not street people, well-dressed, middle-aged people. They spend hours in the store, just looking at stuff. Once in a while they buy something, though as often as not they return it a couple of days later. If you want to see people with no life, work in a department store.”