In the name of all that's logical

The other day at work there were singing, dancing mice. There were aging gymnasts offering me beet stew-soup ("It's good for you, you will like it") and foxes jumping over lazy brown dogs. But the oddest thing, the weirdest thing was the little Buddhist monk sitting on the bench outside, chatting on a cell phone. When she got up, she wandered into Victoria's secret.
I was left wonder what, in the name of all that's logical, could a little Buddhist monk possibly want from Victoria's secret? Are they having a sale on Saffron underwear? Incense-scented perfume (it would be a vast improvement on their usual scents)?
When she came back out, I asked her what, in the name of all that's logical, she could want from Victoria's secret.
She smiled, and her eye twinkled and she said, "It does well for one to do charity for others, so I take it upon myself to get rid of all the ugliest items in the store so no one else has to deal with them. And anyway, the ladies at the convent like them."
Who was I to argue?