I could have put this in the comedy section but, honestly, who there has ever heard of William-Sonoma, much less gets the catalog every year. Only here, among gourmet mac & cheese comfort food, which we can't eat until it has been properly photographed from every angle, can this piece reach the audience it deserves. Hit the link at the end to read the whole thing.
The 2016 Hater’s Guide To The Williams-Sonoma Catalog
I was on the Jersey Turnpike when I saw it. I was driving my family to New York for Thanksgiving and there, along the shittiest stretch of road in the shittiest state in America, I saw the Williams-Sonoma fulfillment center: a vast hangar that seemed to stretch a mile long, with shipping containers lined up along the side, like piglets feeding on a series of artisanal teats. It was located in a town called Cranbury because of course it fucking was. It made me wonder if Williams-Sonoma chose the town of Cranbury specifically for the whimsy of it, or if they CREATED the town and christened it Cranbury just so that it could match their mission statement of bringing holiday cheer and $75 baskets of glazed figs to the world.
And I won’t lie, it was kind of nice to see the fulfillment center, to see just where the (imported, dry-aged Portuguese) sausage (with white wine and fennel) is made. This has not been a pleasant year. Everyone good died. America is now a bad sitcom flash forward episode. And I got a camera up my dick. So it was nice to see all those trucks lined up in Cranbury, each one getting its marching orders to drive out to some pristine house on some pristine cul-de-sac in some pristine suburb. Call it Peppermintbarkville—a place that the rest of the world cannot touch, where even a nuclear holocaust could not intrude upon the bestowing of gold napkin rings and cheese assortments. Life as we know may end, but the Williams-Sonoma catalog, and the army of little Ina Gartens who have seemingly unlimited cash to spend on its wares, will endure. They shall adorn their houses in the finest garlands and pass around only the choicest amuse bouches, and everything will be PERFECT even as the world burns a mile away. OH, IT’LL BE SO GRAND THAT YOU’LL WANNA PUKE.
So come with me now. Let’s forget about our troubles, crack open this year’s W-S Christmas catalog, and lose ourselves in a tartan wonderland. Will there be mug toppers? Oh, you better fucking believe there will be mug toppers. To the catalog…
http://adequateman.deadspin.com/the-...log-1789529261
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I just stick a straw in the glass and blow. Sure I get weird looks at fancy resturants but I saved $80. 
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