I lived in Daytona years ago. One day I noticed a new store had appeared in a strip mall near my house: they sold nothing but Super-Whippers, plastic whisks that sold for $1. They had two display racks in the window, one with white Super-Whippers and one with black. They were never open and there was a hand-written piece of paper taped to the door that said “sorry, we’re closed. If you want a Super-Whipper, the nail salon next door has some.” The store was less than a thousand feet from three dollar stores and a Publix, all of which sold plastic whisks.
I thought I had never seen a more pathetic example of a money laundry, but perhaps Daytona is just filled with really cheap husbands.





“Can’t find a better man.”