The Artists

I should probably start a regular feature called "Adventures in Walmart". It might not make for good reading, but it would give me more crap to blog about (as if you aren't up to your neck in crap already from visiting here).

So, there I was getting some provisions, including more Jack Link's All American Beef & Cheese snacks, crackers, and Vienna Sausages, and making my way through the tumble and jumble of yet another Walmart store going through a "remodeling". This location is only a few years old, yet they've got it torn apart inside, with whole aisles blocked off and maze-like structures everywhere. There were a couple of ladies looking fruitlessly (well, naturally, since they weren't looking for fruit) for eggs, which you normally find in the refrigerated section, but not last night, no, the eggs were missing, along with my old friends, the hot dogs! Outrageous! You could still buy milk and frozen pizza, though.

Everything else was moved around, with whole sections, like the greeting cards, moved to the opposite side of the store. I sometimes wonder if these kinds of periodic changes are just a way for the really big managers to justify their salaries and prove how valuable they are and that they're "on the job" doing something important. I've no doubt that in a few years the whole process will repeat and I'll have to search again to find out where they've moved the beef jerky this time.


Anyway, when I was ready to leave, I found myself behind two kids dressed like they were pretending to be something they weren't. One was just a little boy in a tie-dyed t-shirt, not more than 10 if he was that, and the other was older, dressed in shorts and sandals and skinny as hell and, well, it wasn't exactly a kid, it was a woman with a goofy face and wearing glasses, a retarded female Woody Allen. They both had in their hands several cans of spray paint in various colors. The "woman" was acting nervous and odd, and the boy had cash in his hands for the purchase. When they reached the cashier the goofy one said "We're artists".

The cashier smiled and said something, maybe "That's nice." Then she told the woman that she would have to pay for the paint, as she couldn't sell it to the boy. Now, the kid was quite normal looking, and didn't appear capable of pulling off a major episode of graffiti vandalism, while the woman who was "allowed" to purchase looked like a total psycho who might do anything.

It got me thinking about all the nanny-state laws on the books, with more added each year as more idiots declare "there oughta be law" about their latest pet peeve.

If you're "underage" you can't buy cigarettes, alcohol, or spray paint. I've told before of how my sister and I used to go down to the corner store and buy smokes for our step dad. It was no big deal back then, and certainly not "illegal" for the store to sell them to us. Now they outlaw things like "strike anywhere" matches, which were really convenient, but now are limited in their utility as you must "strike on box" to light them. Too easy for a kid to find a match and set the building on fire I suppose, huh? Just don't get lost in the wilderness with some "strike on box" matches in your pocket but no box!

Yes, thanks to your friendly government, many states have outlawed them as "too dangerous" and have labeled them "hazardous material".

I'm tired of the state interfering in my life, but by the act of being born in a certain geographical area, I agreed to all this nonsense (that's the "social contract" and according to Bret "Ginx" Alan if I don't like it I should just go off into that wilderness and start my own country-only no government would let me do even that).


I'm pretty sure my precious Jack Link snacks are next, and will soon also be labeled "hazardous material", which come to think of it, they probably are, but I like 'em anyway.