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There are two places that serve to reinforce the fact that the masses of America are mindless fucks: the Mall and Wal Mart.

Huh-wha?

I avoid the mall near my house like the plague. It’s filled with over-entitled teenage zombies, shuffling along with their faces glued to their phones texting their moronic friends across the hall. Oblivious to anything other than themselves and driven completely by hormones and FOMO they move en masse through the temple of consumerism like packs of feral dogs, stopping only when they hit sensory overload, or Starbucks. The Mall is nothing but an artifice of reality where everyone is made to believe they are special, yet lacking. It simultaneously inculcates a sense of envy and inferiority and drives the psychic engines that make people want to buy. Plus it’s noisy as fuckall.

The unwashed masses with their offspring shuffle up and down hallways pushing their oversized strollers as if God made them the Queens of the road. The women push the strollers while the men are dragged along like Kunta Kinte, checking their smartphones for the latest scores for the Game of which there is always one to follow. Dead behind the eyes from bringing home the bacon to their ungrateful brats, they long to be at a breastaurant or drinking beer in front of the teevee wasting brain cells in the name of supporting the team. It’s a horrible place filled with nothing but bourgeois terror and tweenage curs, although it could be worse, it could be Walmart.

Walmart makes me want to run amok with a machete. If the mall is geared toward America’s future repeat offenders, Walmart is for those who have already arrived, and are damned proud. Walmart may be convenient but shopping there is like being beaten with a bag full of hams. It’s always crowded and chronically understaffed which only adds to the “experience” and that experience makes me want to kill just about every motherfucker in there. 

Walmart is the place you are more likely to see a Tranny than anywhere else and I’m not sure why. In a lot of small towns, It's the only thing they have going, so putting on a wig, lipstick and size 13 heels to go there seems like the thing to do. It’s a place where the workers seem to have been hatched from some bio-engineering program that removes any sense of self from them. They look at you, coal-eyed from dealing with the idiots that shop there, only taking short bits of time to acknowledge you exist. Target isn’t like this. Is there something I don’t know about Walmart?  Do they have a special room in the back of each store where a voodoo doctor administers Scopolamine powders to the workers at the beginning of each shift? I want to know.

But the workers are only a small fraction of the equation. It’s the people that make me want to kill. Take for example the twentysomething  mouthbreather with his shirt proclaiming “Don’t Sweat my Swag.” Really, how about I sweat your swag by holding your head in a deep fryer? Or maybe the bubbleheaded woman who is stopped on the wrong side of the aisle and repeatedly ignores my attempts to get her to move. Finally a young man on the correct side moves his cart and apologizes. I loudly proclaim that he is not to be blamed and proceed to mutter loudly to the effect that the fat motherfucker should have moved. People just don’t give a fuck about anyone but themselves. Parents let their brats run wild in the store tearing shit up while they gaze at their phones unabated. The store near my office is the worst. Filled with the sweepings off society’s floor it looks like a scene straight from Idiocracy. Fat and tattooed, the inhabitants roam around looking at the latest Tapout t-shirts whilst yakking to some unseen being about how drunk they were the other night and how they are going to kick somebody’s ass, and those are the women. Unfortunately this is the new normal. A fetid, stinking, sun-baked corpse of a civilization rotting from the inside, the smell of which rivals that of any declining empire heretofore.

But at least the prices are low.