Bookstores are for smart people. And Alex.

Walking through the bookstore on our coffee break, Richard stopped, turned to the rest of us, and pointed to this month's Architectural Digest.  It had gold embossing on the cover, declaring this issue the "Architecture Issue."  Richard said nothing.  He just kept looking at us, his finger pressed on the words “Architecture Issue.”

     Alan:  Nah, I'm waiting for the Video Game Issue.
     Jason:  That's like FHM having a Mindless Crap Issue.

To my left, I saw a rack of 700 quilting magazines, 233 of which were named "Quilt", 233 named "Quilter", 233 named "Quilting", and one named "Patchwork Quilting".  As I was commenting on the craftiness of the names, Erin approached, wearing her shawl.

     Richard:  Speaking of quilts, there's one with legs!

Worried the rimshots might be bothering the other patrons, we made for the door.  On the way out, we saw that Microsoft Encarta is now available in paperback form and, in this form, is known as "The First Dictionary for the Internet Age."  Richard asked me to look up "software", suspecting there might be a Microsoft-leaning slant.  Sadly, the definition had no bias at all:

    software (n) -- programs and applications for computers.

Since reading this definition instantly made me stupider, I can’t remember what all we said.  I think we discussed the ambiguous use of “and” for a moment, and maybe we wondered if this definition was intended for those who know that software is “programs” but don’t know that it is “programs for computers.”  In any case, I’m back at my desk now, so we must have left the bookstore.  I sure hope I paid.  For the coffee, at least.