Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Welcome to Wal-Mart

You probably read or heard about the story recently concerning the old man here in Georgia who told a woman to make her 2-year-old stop crying or he would, and when she didn’t, he slapped the kid around a little bit.

This happened in a Wal-Mart. Well, of course it did. It is yet another example of why I avoid Wal-Mart like I avoid hard work.

Oh, and here’s another reason.

I refuse to go to Wal-Mart. There are three massive ones within 5 miles of my house. You can’t swing a dead cat without hitting one. How much cheap stuff can people buy?

I could tell you that my Wal-Mart boycott has to do with how they have ruined small-town America, and they import everything from China and screw American suppliers, and they have questionable employment practices, and their produce tastes like it was grown in the buttcrack of a buffalo.

But I’m not that high-minded. I just can’t stand seeing the people you see in your average Wal-Mart. Most of them look like they came there straight from a meth lab or a Tennessee football game.

Does this make me snotty? Maybe so. But here are a few tips I’d like to give Wal-Mart shoppers before they head to the store:

1. Bathe.
2. Make sure your clothes have been washed within the past month, and don’t have holes you could put a quarter through.
3. Don’t wear your T-shirts with obscene or vulgar words on them. That’s fine for the family reunion at the trailer park, but not for the public.
4. Shoes – wear them. Even your kids. Especially your kids.

I prefer K-Mart to Wal-Mart, but there aren’t many K-Marts left. I used to actually work at K-Mart, and it was fun, because the store was huge and I could hide for almost my entire shift.

I remember once, a guy got busted for crawling up above the ceiling and looking down into the women’s dressing rooms through the security mirror. I thought this was a very sick thing. I mean, at the time, I understood the urge to look at women undressing. But not women who were trying on clothes at K-Mart. It ain’t exactly Victoria’s Secret, is all I’m saying.

K-Mart was cooler, because they had blue-light specials, where they’d put a flashing blue light on somewhere and put something on sale for a limited time. My mother and father both bought a lot of useless junk because they were blue-light specials. Somewhere there’s a 10-pound barrel of cheese popcorn we never ate.

I don’t care if you go to Wal-Mart. If your conscience will let you, and you don’t mind swimming in the shallow end of the gene pool for a while, go right ahead. Just don’t buy me anything.

4 comments:

Sonya said...

The pics on People of Walmart are hilarious and scary at the same time!

Anonymous said...

I have a downstairs neighbor with the white trash-shaped skinny beard trail, and the tats on the forearms, and the insecurity-fueled I'm-better-than-you attitude. I heard him once tell someone on the phone,, that yes, they could use "the car", cuz I just need to go to walmart later.
I swear the walmart-meth connection is legit as all connections in life go. He doesn't sleep for more than 2 hours I'd say. I once dropped a book on the floor during the day when I first moved in and I got my Welcome doublebang on the ceiling at 3am the next night to officially welcome me.
The worst thing about this under-evolved form oflife is the kitchen cabinet-slamming. And it goes on for hours sometimes taking place at midnight. I think they're constantly re-arranging hiding places for either their meth or meth lab equipment.
I love them, though, for providing a solid excuse to just simply choose the extra expense of a house rental.

Anonymous said...

I posted the last comment on my d/s neighbor. They're moving out at the end of Feb which is officially the end of their lease, but maybe mr. half-wit neatherdal himself, is moving out sooner, since he's not even on the lease and he's being allowed a temporary nest to feed in by his drama-seeking/dumb ho of a girlfriend.
I'm counting down 5 more weeks before I take a 4-day motel stay, and when I get back, they should be almost out, or in the process of it.. and when I hear the moving commotion, it will be easier to psychologically tolerate their b.s knowing they're out within 14 or 21 days.
fun. delight. this guy actually asks me "what did you say" through the ceiling whenever I say something in response to just the tv, or just talking out loud to someone's email or something. always trying to start something with me, because it's the only type of entertainment his cro-magnum meth-head (probably) brain can create.
Even if you don't post this comment, damn, this feels good to tell someone.

Anonymous said...

The third and last post on my ever-entertaining Saga of "Billybob", the name I gave him myself.

They are virtually out. Their furniture is out yesterday during their main move-out.. They're only here on and off for the next 5 days, to clean up.

I'm on cloud F$#%!@ng Nine.

omg

I'm more joy-filled for what I get to enjoy now, the positive, than I am satisfied for the removal of the negative.
I couldn't practice my passion of web development/programming up til now, because this guy was permanently camped out right below my desk, and was constantly trying to stand up to see what I was doing when I typed on my PC. Super F'n distracting.

(didn't have quite the funds for a laptop to allow me to work away from home)

Now I get to practice what Steven Pressfield discusses in his book, The War of Art, peacefully, now.
Check that book out.

(If the next neighbor ends up like the last one (not likely), I will simply just get rid of my massive clutter, and do a permanent road trip, possibly moving out of state for the adventure of it.)