A Trip to Wallmart
As always, let me preface this entry to my online diary (blog, if you will) with the sincere apology for absence. Holy crap, keeping a blog takes time… not only that, but I find myself struggling (at times) to find something to talk to you all about.
This blog started as a means of recounting observations about the shift to rural life, though I would say that statistically speaking there have been more baseball posts (2) than any other specific theme.
In an effort to avoid baseball metaphor (something I naturally sway towards) I have found myself creatively barren when it comes to blog posts… that is, until the trip to Wallmart.
As of last week, 33 years of my life had gone by without entering a Wallmart. This, certainly at first, was not a statement against large conglomerates and box stores, but rather that I had lived, for most of my young-adult and adult life outside of the United States of America. Even when I did life in the confines of the USA, it was in New York City. Thusly, there was no real opportunity to go to such a box store even if I had the burning craving to do so.
After a time, (and the acquisition of a moralist credo in my 20s) the mentality had been that if I had made it this far, why not just see this through: no Wallmart for me. Easy. 33 years, no Wallmart… done. I would sooner flush my money down the toilet than give it to those bastards.
And then I got lethargic.
Last week, while on a mission for the Depot Theatre, my travelling partner mentioned that he needed to pop into a Wallmart in Ticonderoga to pick up some supplies.
What do I do? Do I sit in the car and wait for him to do his shopping? I certainly entertained the idea. 33 years is a long streak to break on a whim. Do I go against all my political scruples and venture into the Evil Empire?
Then I remembered that I don’t really care that much. I went in. I broke the proverbial seal.
It was a pretty underwhelming experience, actually (as though you are surprised). It’s basically like a crappy version of Target. Lots of overweight people in spandex clothing wandering around looking at auto-parts.
I was looking forward to the descriptions of the super box stores. Picking up a gun… or something equally inappropriate for a department store. But no.. it was just kind of lame.
I did buy something though. For the pithy sum of $17.96 I was torn (see photo) between a box of 100 sci-fi films and a box of 100 westerns. Ultimately I went with the westerns citing the distinct lack of Tom Servo/Crow commentary as something of a deal breaker for shitty sci-fi.
Ive watched one of these films (terrible). I will write something to the nature of the progression of the mediocre western in a coming blog post… I have some thoughts.
Anyway, what can we learn from this experience? Apathy always wins. When placed in a situation where I am forced to stand up for beliefs or pick up a box of 100 westerns… I went with the movies…
I think that speaks volumes to my (lack of) moral fiber…
