Monday, January 05, 2004

Wal-Mart = Satan's Home on Earth (not a liberal rant)

This rant is not structured in any way, it is nearly a stream-of-consciousness essay

I can't stand Wal-Mart, in fact I hate it so much I'm not going to put the stupid dash in between the words anymore. Walmart, Walmart, Walmart. Although I, like all others, do frequent this "store" I do so with every intention to leave as soon as possible. There are so many things wrong with this franchise its almost unholy. First, the parking lot is larger than a football stadium's, and it is always totally full. The only open spots are literally on the highway so one is forced to tread through garbage, flocks of crows, and cart-jockeys for what seems like miles. As soon as you walk in the door you are faced by a greeter (and I use that term loosely) who is usually half-asleep or is so old that they can barely speak. They mumble something as you try to skirt by, on your way to the heart of the monster. Walmart is the dirtiest store I have ever been in: the floors are caked with some sort of black substance native only to Walmart's vast plains of linoleum. I believe it is the very manifestation of the store's dire nature into a solid substance which seems to evade cleaning of any type. Being open 24 hours a day, the shelves are constantly in a state of disarray, being picked through by shoppers like vultures at a decaying corpse. Although Walmart has everything under the sun, it never has what you need. Seeing its self as a bastion of "family-values" Walmart carries only edited CDs, censors the types of games it carries, and offers a limited selection of magazines ranging from Home Landscaping to Low Rider Monthly. The electronics section is a disaster area. The CDs are arranged as if they were randomly shuffled and dealt to the shelves by a card dealer. Walmart is the only store I know of that advertises on its HDTVs and other high-end items: "Cash Your Child-Credit Tax Refund Checks Here!" Don't bother asking an employee for help with anything, by listening to their futile attempts at sounding knowledgeable, they actually corrupt and displace some of your own knowledge. Only in Walmart can your cashier be a middle-aged man named Rusty sporting a pony-tail.

Only in Walmart, while in Rusty's line, can you hear this conversation between a very large woman and one of her children (true story):

-Child: "Mommy, what kind of shorts are these?"
-Mother: "These aren't shorts, these are new panties."

Walmart's clientele is equal parts nursing home, trailer park, NASCAR fan, Flea Market goer, and dazed middle-class family, all drawn like zombies to the "Everyday Low Price". Walmart is evil. Thank you, that is all.


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