Amazon is going to start charging Minnesota sales tax, and folks don't like it. I don't like it. My reasons consist of a nuanced blend of arguments about the difference between online merchants and traditional retail outlets, as well as the questionable power of the state to tax you for something shipped from Oregon, but basically, I'm cheap, and all my arguments are excuses.

Local brick-and-mortar stores are rejoicing, because they think this will level the playing field. Not so. Amazon will probably be cheaper, even on things like bricks and mortar. (Free shipping!) But there are other reasons to shop online.

The other day I got a box from Amazon, and it had: a pair of shoes, a record player, a highly specific cord for a piece of electronic equipment, and a few other items. Let's go down the list.

Shoes. Men hate buying shoes, in general. Do you have this in a 7 and a half? And the clerk goes back to the Mysterious Vault of Shoes no man has ever seen and lived to tell the tale, and comes back sad. No, and they don't make it in that size, because the designer doesn't want to think of his creations worn around town by elves. They have it in a 12, in case I want to put both feet into the shoe and hop around.

If they do have your size, you have to sit there like some sort of king, Ethelred the Unshod, while the guy who is not paid enough money for the job of bending over strangers' feet puts it on.

Then you walk around, and you have that conversation: "It's a little tight, but it'll loosen up, right?" And he wants to say, "No, contrary to your lifetime of experience, the shoe will gradually contract until your extremities resemble an illustration from a history of Geisha-girl foot binding. YES, OF COURSE they will loosen."

There's a problem with buying shoes online, of course. The reviews are no help. Five stars: "Best fit ever! Like they're made of butter!" One star: "Melted off my feet on first hot day. Made of butter." There's a Q & A section, written by customers:

Q. So are these shoes actually made of butter or what?

A. The uppers are made of a synthetic protein derived from whey and casein, so while they are in the dairy family it's not technically butter. The laces are made of titanium fiber that will slice through your fingers if you tug the knot too tight unless you apply mineral oil first. The soles are made of post-consumer glass.

I bought them. They fit.

Next: the record player. I recently came into possession of some LPs from the late '40s, many of which are by obscure artists long gone and forgotten. Albert "Toothmouth" Brown and his Hot Five, that sort of thing. I feel obligated to record them and put them up online, so I bought a record player.

The reviews were all over the road: "Sounds great!!! My husband loves it. I place it on his grave and play our favorite songs," or "You would get better sound if you fed the records to a donkey and tied a microphone to his tail to record the flatulence." I figure, the price is right.

Well, it didn't work out. Returns are easy, but I'm out 10 bucks. This wouldn't have happened if I'd gone down to the neighborhood electronics store, listened to some turntables, taken the salesman's advice, and made an informed decision.

But there aren't any, because people like me shop at Amazon.

Next: obscure electronic cord made in China, shipped from Amsterdam, and cost $1.93. What a world. If I'd gone to the charmless geek-stuffed warehouse store that sells these things, I would have paid $3.29 in gas just to get there.

More to the point: There's no store in town where I can walk in and say "Shoes! Record player! Retractable RCA-plug cord! Collection of Mickey Mouse 1930s Sunday color strips! My house, two days!" and walk out.

Hence the advantage. But. The reason Amazon is charging tax has to do with the requirements of the law: If they have a facility here, they have to charge, and they're building something. They're not putting up a Port-A-Potty with an Amazon sign on the door so they can help out state revenues.

The stories suggest it's Same-Day Delivery, because waiting a day or two for something makes people twitchy and irritable. (An amusing development for those of us who sent away for things advertised in comic books, and were prepared to wait "4 to 6 weeks." I ordered a Spider-Man plastic pillow once and it came in three weeks, and I felt like I got windburn when I opened up the mailbox.)

Maybe same-day will be for groceries. You're making supper; you discover you're out of fennel, because no one has ever said, "You're going to the store? Stock up on fennel," and no one ever looks at the spice row at the store and thinks, "Are we low on fennel? Better not take a chance." You call up Amazon on your device, order fennel, ignore the credit card offer, marvel for a second at the part of the page that says "People who bought fennel also shopped for … " and it's jock straps and pillow cushions. Amazon dispatches a drone, and the fennel's at your door in an hour.

That's the future, if the FAA allows drone flights for such reasons. And I look forward to all the grocery reviews on Amazon from people who need a place to vent their depthless unhappiness with life.

UGH! ORDERED BUTTER, ARRIVED IN 20 MINUTES, BUT TASTED LIKE A SHOE. ONE STAR.

jlileks@startribune.com • 612-673-7858