A: Crystal or crack?
Q: What are our corporopolitical leaders smoking?
Is Wal Mart evil? No. At least, they're a damned sight less evil than any other God damned corporation.
I bank at Town and Country bank - for now. I won't for long.
I was at the Evil American company Shell (oh wait, that multinational is a Dutch company, ain't it? And with a multinational company does it matter?) and picked up a jug of windshield solvent when I paid for my incredibly expensive gasoline, none of the expense of which goes to health care like it does in civilized countries.
I left it on the counter. "Three fucking dollars? Are you people out of your tiny little skulls? This shit was seventy nine cents last time I bought it!"
"It's that price everywhere" the middle aged poverty-stricken minimum wage worker behind the counter who certainly feeds his children with food stamps because Shell, with record profits, is allowed to pay its workers starvation wages said. "I just use water in my squirters".
I threw Lucy Furr out again. She had been nice to me. "Lucy's" real name is Tami; the "Lucifer" is a joke between us. I've been letting the 42 year old fat woman stay at my house while the 28 year old alien she's married to is in basic training for the Illinois National Guard. Her "Stimulus check" came and she spent quite a bit of it on me. "I owe you so much," she said, "there's no way I could possibly repay you for all that you've done for me."
Meanwhile I don't know how I could have gotten through the vitrectomy without her. And she's been cooking and cleaning and washing my clothes, and she's come up with a shitload of food. My pantry is full and I haven't bought much food at all.
But my youngest daughter is visiting from Cincinnati (holy shit, mcgrew spelled "Cincinnati" right) for her sister's birthday and Father's Day and she needs her bedroom back while she's visiting,
Plus she doesn't like Tami at all.
So Tami's at some other friends' house while Patty is here. She filled my car and bought some household items like toothpaste and toilet paper right before she went. She'll be back, as the termination machine said. Her belongings are all in my basement, where I'm likely to be tonight if we have tornados.
She had been waiting with bated breath (if you're waiting with baited breath, go brush your teeth) for that check. She had gotten a letter from Uncle Sam saying to expect it last Friday, and it didn't come. Her mail is forwarded to my house, so it got there Tuesday.
I'd let her use the car, and an hour before quitting time she excitedly came to my work with her check signed over to me, and one of my deposit slips filled out and ready for me to sign. I signed it for her and she drove off.
She was back at quitting time, and she was PISSED OFF. My bank woiuldn't accept the check. "They said the policy was that both people on the check had to be there", she said. "They said I had to talk to a manager but they were all in meetings the rest of the day".
"Don't worry" I said. "We'll go tomorrow on my lunch hour and straighten it out."
The next day at lunch I drove home and picked Tami up and went to the bank. The manager was at lunch.
We ate some fats food at Mcdonalds and I took her home, telling her I'd take off at two. And no, that wasn't a typo.
For quite a while I've wondered why they call it "fast food" since it's never fast and it's barely food. I can go to Top Cat's (or could if it wasn't so far from where I work) or Track Shack, sit at a table, have my order taken and my food in front of me faster than I can wait in line at McDonald's, even if I use the drive through. Fast? Huh?
But then it hit me: the whole purpose of this type of food is for underweight people like me who are trying to gain weight. It tastes so bad because it lacks nutrients; but lacking certain nutrients will cause you to think you're hungry when you're really full. The taste of this food is an undesirable side affect of its purpose. It isn't fast food nor does it claim to be. "Fast" is the typo. It's really fats food.
Unfotunately I'm having to go off my "supersize me" diet because it's affecting my health. I had a really bad case of the runs the night before last and yesterday, followed by gas and constipation.
At two I left work and got Tami, and went back to the bank. The unpatriotic manager of the unpatriotic bank understood that there was no way for the man in basic traing to be there to cash his stimulus check but unfortunately it was bank policy.
Leila's DVD player had Leilashe doesn't have one eye in the middle of her forehead and "Leela" is the illiterate spelling of "Leila" rather than the other way around; leila has been alive a lot longer then Futurama. Otherwise Futurama got her right. I cashed a check at the bank where the manager had pissed me off by refusing to take a government check that there was no chance of bouncing.
"You only have eighteen dollars in your account", the teller said.
"I just deposited fifty from my savings this morning" I protested.
"Oh," she said, "here it is" and gave me my cash.
Traveling down Macarthur from the bank there at Ash, Tami said to stop by the gas station, where she bought beer and sixty dollars worth of gasoline. Then she wanted to go by Ralph's, because she'd owed him thirty dollars for a very long time. She gave the elderly WWII vet forty, and we left for WalMart.
I headed to the electronics section while she headed to Customer Service. I bought a DVD, and she walked up as I was leaving the checkout.
"They cashed my stimulus check for me!" she said.
WalMart served as a better bank than my bank. "I want to get a few things" she said, and bought cat food and cat litter for Patty's cats, and a jug of windshield washer fluid.
Ninety four cents for the washer fluid that Ayerco and Shell wanted three fucking dollars for.
This morning is Thursday, and a new Illinois Times is out. That's the free Springfield weekly newspaper, a left-leaning independantly owned rag that kind of balances the right leaning corporate State Journal-Register.
Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Forget Hollywood - the true story of a fabled relic, and its owners, is weirder than fiction
I went by Shell, where gas had been $3.95 the day before yesterday, because I'd picked up a nail this week and they're the only ones with a real air pump - you know the ones, the old fashioned kind that you don't put quarters in that actually work and will, unlike the ones that cost seventy five cents, fill my 45 psi tires. I was going to put another twenty dollars in just for having the air, but gas had shot up to $4.14. I put five in.
The minimum wage guy wasn't there; the fellow behind the counter looked like an owner or manager.
"Five bucks on pump, um, the one on the end. Oh, and Walmart has your three dollar washer fluid for ninety four cents."
"I don't have WalMart's supply chain. I can't sell it that cheap."
"You could sell it for a buck and a half."
"I can't buy it for a buck and a half".
"Buy it at Wal Mart" I told the fucking moron.
I'm so damned sick of these brainless so-called "businessmen" these days I could scream. I wish these morons would go into rehab and give up the crystal. Or is it crack they're smoking? Greed and stupidity are side effects of cocaine, after all. Crystal as well, I think.