An Ode To Walmart

Mystery Meat

Walmart.

Where else can you walk in and pick up bread, milk, a 25 pound dumbbell, some goofy looking boots, two tubes of fabric glue, all in the same place?

At any hour of the day.

And to top it off, they have self-checkout, so you don't even have to interact with other people to do it.

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You're weird...

...also, Wal-Mart sucks the donkey testicles.

Fred Meyer!

The Northwest's version of Wal-Mart. I mean, "*Walmart." Their new ad campaigns suggest that Butt-Mart (to use a term coined by The Chef) has severed its ties to its roots in the South - or tried to, anyway. Fred Meyer sells much of the same stuff as Walmart, has stores big enough to contain a couple of 747-400's (just like Walmart), and even has a store in Portland patronized almost exclusively by kleptomaniacs.

What's funny is that preening Northwesterners think Freddie's is a "good" version of the "evil" Walmart. Whatever. I shop at Fred Meyer because they have stuff I want. But when they don't, I go to the Walmart a mile up State Highway 303.

I wonder how many of my fellow goofy "buy local" Northwesterners know Fred Meyer is owned by... KROGER! MUAHAHAA!!!

Indeed.

I gotta admit, I feel pretty lame buying stuff at Walmart. Especially the boots--they're for the Cleric getup I'm taking to DragonCon. This was literally my thought process:

"Hmm, those are pretty much what I'm looking for."

"But wait, this is Walmart. Isn't that lame? Shouldn't you go to a shoe store, at least?"

"They're basically what I'm looking for, and they have my size."

"But, it's Walmart. It doesn't matter how good it is, it's still cheap soulless crap."

"Yeah, but this works really well. I want it."

"But, it's Walmart, I mean, don't you..."

"Mind, shut the f@#$ up."

(Yes, I do in fact have debates with my own mind. Sometimes it's hard to get it to shut up, even when it's being condescending and judgmental and telling me I'm worthless.)

Y'know...

... when I write stuff like this, I wonder if this entire site is just a big cry for help that everyone will ignore until after it's too late, or if know just enough about mental illness to slip red flags in when I'm describing my quirks.

Expect it to get worse when my article about THE FAILCHART is published.

Eat the pudding, eat the pudding, eat the pudding, eat the pudding.

Shouldn't that be more like ...

... eatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepuddingeatthepudding.

Butt-Mart is,,,

Butt-Mart is actually just one specific Wal-Mart. The one here. Because it sucks. I prefer to shop at Target, but when Wal-Mart has what I wants, I don't cares.

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