I've Been To Hell and Back

(Don't read this, Maureen)
Today I broke a taboo. I entered that cornice of hell to which I vowed I'd never go. I was told that a piece of hardware I needed was available at Wal-Mart (yes- Wal-Mart). Since I was unable to find it elsewhere and needed it before I went on vacation, I decided to check it out. It was Easter Monday and the hoi polloi were frothing at the mouth for half price hollow imitation chocolate bunnies. The parking lot was a precursor of what was to come. Unspeakably ugly people who should have had their drivers' licences yanked were performing a strange vehicular ballet in the overcrowded lot complete with honking and hand gestures. I slunk past the greeter, half expecting the hypocrite alarm to sound. I found the gardening department right away. It had an awful odour about it and a clerk who, seemingly overwhelmed by the customer he was serving, hollered for help. When back-up arrived he pointed at me and said (very, very loudly), "She needs help." I denied needing assistance (realizing how false I sounded) and fled the department, not wanting anything to do with these denizens of Hades (to describe them would only give rise to accusations of discrimination of one sort or another - name your prejudice). I wandered briefly around the store and, honestly, I have never seen such a pile of cheap crap in my whole life - kid's clothes made of a fabric that made one hope their parents were nonsmokers, others that looked like Halloween costumes (hey, maybe they're on sale from last October?), packaged food with enough carcinogens to guarantee that customers who eat it will probably die after only a few visits (that sounds like bad business, doesn't it?), all of them made by cheap slave labour. If Wal-Mart is giving us what we want, God help us. I slunk out as empty handed as I arrived.

More Nag rants on Wal-Mart here, here, here, here, etc.