I Loath and Love Wal-Mart
Wal-Mart is a place where I love to go and watch people. Nowhere else, outside of a damaged food auction or a trailer park swap meet, can you see such undesirable people. I’m not talking about your standard down-on-their-luck individual or unfortunate physically-impaired person, but your complete don’t-care-what-they-look-like or how-poorly-they-represent-the-species kind of human being. And I’m using “human being” loosely here, because there are some creatures in Wal-Mart who clearly prove Darwin wrong: Organisms so faulty that to have had them exist within our reproductive population simply mocks our genetic future. Add to that your average Wal-Mart employee, usually the illegitimate offspring of mentally handicapped siblings or of such a broken spirit that they wouldn’t even pull the fire alarm if the food court started serving Molotov cocktails, and you have a perfect storm of horrible shopping pleasure.
The loath part of my relationship with Wal-Mart is much more complicated. Wal-Mart, being the powerhouse of retail organizations that they are, slowly destroys all of their competition – much like kamikaze termites eating the last tree in the forest – thus occasionally leaving them the only place in town for certain immediately-needed items. So while I love to visit the freak show that is the Made in China headquarters for the jingoistic, I loath having to actually buy anything from there.
Thus it was that I found myself standing in the Toy Department the day before Christmas looking for a last minute gift for someone that both Kela and I swore the other had bought a gift for well over a month ago. It took three customer service representatives and a call to a different store before I was finally able to get a definitive “doncurrydemnomore” from someone wearing the nametag of (and this is the honest truth) Slappy. Slappy went on to explain that Wal-Mart stopped carrying the item November 30th due to lack of demand (nooneboughtdemnomore).
Horrific national and localized economic damage aside, Wal-Mart does usually provide me with some positive benefits. I know where to go to feel better about myself, I know where to go to find people who will vote against their own self-interest just to feel like they belong to something that they never will, and I know where to go to should I ever find myself in need of a singing large-mouth bass the days before Christmas. At least, I did until November 30th.
My blog contains a large number of posts. A few are included in various other publications, or as attached stories and chronicles in my emails; many more are found on loose leaves, while some are written carelessly in margins and blank spaces of my notebooks. Of the last sort most are nonsense, now often unintelligible even when legible, or half-remembered fragments. Enjoy responsibly.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Being a father I'm finding it increasingly hard to contrast the sudden feeling of pain creeping up upon me: a chilling fear, but also a realization, that certain moments must pass. One second of absolute and perfect happiness - one of the ten to twelve that comprises a whole life - with the fact that in one of these happy moments life could easily be comprehensible, but is ultimately fleeting. It is in that flawless moment of time where I am not sure to rejoice or mourn. Maybe it is both.