Friday, September 7, 2012

Dear Walmart Shoppers

Dear Walmart Shoppers,

I realize the intrinsic appeal of a good deal; believe me, I do.  I shop at Walmart sometimes because the selection is outstanding and the prices are competitive, if not ridiculously low.  I get this.  I understand that sometimes, in the middle of the day, you NEED to load up all six of your screaming kids (under the age of 5) to get cheese puffs and Natty Lite.  Whatever.

But there are a few things I don't understand and that leave me shaking my head, such as:

The mullet.  Is this required for the special secret Walmart Rewards Card, or something?  Because seriously?  I see an inordinate number of people walking around (both men and women) sporting the exact same Joe Dirt haircut.  It's disturbing.  Is there a little Clone Capsule at the back wherein you enter looking normal, and exit looking like a Hee Haw extra?  That's OK Walmart... this is one special club I'll opt out of, thanks.

Overalls.  Again, WTF?  Last time I checked, this was not a farming community... people don't roll up in the parking lot in their John Deere's, or their horses and buggies.  So WHAT'S with the overalls, people?  Oh, and a side note:  wife beaters are never attractive, and they are even less appealing (if that's possible) under a dirty pair of bib overalls.

Vehicles.  1992 called... they want their Geo Tracker back.  Ditto the souped-up Civic with tinted windows and pink details.  Just say no.

Tattoos.  What's the minimum these days, six?  Seven?  How long until they start performing body checks at the door and I'm not allowed entry due to my paltry little ONE?  With the amount of body art showing up, Walmart should start charging admission to that shit... just sayin'.  Move over Ripley's... there's a new freak show in town.

Tweety Bird.  Why is every third person in Walmart sporting something bearing the likeness of good old Tweety?   I don't get the appeal of wearing your Tweety Bird flannel pants to run out for Boone's Farm and Pork Rinds.

Bras.  The lack thereof - need I say more?

I don't understand, people.

I get wanting to pay as little as possible for household items and food; after all, them manicures and Fendi bags ain't gonna pay for themselves, and you got little ones to feed, hon.  I get it.  But for THE LOVE OF GOD, at the very least lay off the overalls, slap on a bra, and give Tweety a rest once in a while.  I beg you.

Sincerely,
Blinded By The Horrors

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