Tuesday, December 06, 2005

So I was at the Mall today and I started wondering...

...what the hell am I doing at the Mall? I hate the Mall, regardless of my unnecessary capitalization of the word. And then the glaringly obvious reason struck me...

It's Christmas!
...I mean, Hanukkah!
...Kwanzaa!
...Winter Solstice!
...The Visit of Los Reyes Magos!
...The secular end-of-year Holiday Season!

Yes, that's right, loyal readers. It's that special time of year again. The holiday season that everybody celebrates and nobody agrees on. Except for the Jehovah's Witnesses and your more humorless atheists, who apparently celebrate nothing and disagree with everything.

Ahhh, the holidays. What says brotherly love and good will towards men like bitching about the fact that the greeter at Wal-Mart wished you "Happy Holidays" instead of a "Merry Christmas," the hellbound heathen? I've got news for you, Churchie, if the housewares clerk at Target takes it upon himself to cold-cock you square in the babymaker, then you can go crying to your local powerless media outlet. But if he just fails to wish you a Merry Christmas, you do what any emotionally-mature grown-up is expected to do: suck it up, champ.

It occurs to me that I should be more sympathetic, however. After all, this is the only time of year when the whackjobs on the far right side of the Christian sliding scale get to express their opinions (which, by the way, should also be your opinions, dear friends. After all, we are living in their country). They only get to come out at Christmas. And Easter. And Halloween. And Independence Day. And whenever we invade another country. And whenever a natural disaster occurs. And whenever our court system upholds the Constitution. And whenever we make a groundbreaking new scientific discovery. And whenever a new Harry Potter book is released. And whenever frogs rain from the heavens.

Well, I suppose I should expect to hear from them on that last one. Unless there's a perfectly rational scientific explanation for it, of course.

Where was I? Oh, right. The Mall.

I hate the Mall. I also hate the indigenous creatures who frequent the Mall during the holiday season. You yourself know and revile these people, I'm sure. But I'm going to waste my time and yours listing them anyway. For reference.

1.) The Power Parker: This lazy jackass just knows a spot's gonna open up right in front of Marshall Fields' any second now, and she's gonna be there when it does! You will often spy the Power Parker still circling the parking lot as you exit the Mall three hours later.

2.) Stern-looking Business Man in Suit and Trench Coat: "I'm important and successful and quite possibly on my lunch break. I can't believe I'm deigning to mingle with you commonfolk, but my third wife is going to just love this copy of Dan Brown's hyperpublicized pulp novel, The Da Vinci Code!"

3.) Loud Cellphone Lady: "Hi, Marcie? Do you remember what Alan wanted for Christmas? I'm in the store right now. ... Yeah, right now. ... Oh, you're kidding! ... When did that happen? ... What color did it turn out? ... Yellow?! [raucous, strident laughter follows] ... Anyway, the funniest thing happened to my sister today. She was meeting Nancy at the salon and she brought her that book she's been telling her to read, you know, that one Oprah was raving about?" -- All right, people, yes, I get it, the cellphone is here to stay. And I admit there are plenty of valid reasons to use one. But really, bellowing into a fancy walkie-talkie in the middle of the bookstore about the mundane details of your weep-worthy life is not one of them.

4.) Underage Hootchie Mama with baby in tow: This dance video reject is moderately passable in the looks department if she slathers on gobs of makeup -- which she has -- and wears a glorified handkerchief -- which she is -- and keeps to the far, dark reaches of the Mall where nary a sunbeam falls -- which she won't. Who this little mother-of-the-year is trying to impress is beyond me. She's dressed like a streetwalker, so she wants to catch the fellas' eyes.... but, uh, well, she's also holding a baby. Her baby. That she made after catching the eye (and sperm) of the last fella she met at the Mall. Gee, nothing says "I'm easy and too simple to grasp even the basic tenets of birth control" like a fifteen-year-old girl in fast access lowriders pushing around her goddamned baby in a stroller.

5.) Squirrely Young Punks: Let's be honest. These fine additions to society have had a busy day: First, they had to run up the down escalator and vice versa. Then, they started a straw war at the food court. Next, it was off to CompuGamingTechnoGear Palace to test the latest first-person shooter and mock the guy behind the counter (who actually earns a paycheck for his gaming interests). After throwing pennies off the second floor at the tired parents below, they had to hustle to the east end of the Mall to avoid the Man (read: mall security) who's always hasslin' them. And finally, it's off to Victoria's Secret to oogle the lifeless mannequins, all of which are wearing outfits they will never see on a real, unpaid woman.

6.) That Guy they're looking for on that "Most Wanted" show: Gangly, unshaven, balding, beady eyes, weaselly face, ratty jacket, unplaceable but foul odor.... and always standing right behind me when I'm washing my hands in the bathroom.

7.) Gaggle of Giggling Girls: They're 14, they're perky, and they're tittering like field mice at the sight of everything and anything. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the proud product of the women's lib movement, thank you very much.

8.) Tired Parents: Actually, I'll honestly admit that these poor saps have it pretty rough. So rough, in fact, that they feel it is their god-given right to inflict the obnoxious, squalling result of their perfunctory lovemaking unto us, the non-parent. Fortunately, they will be pelted mercilessly with pennies before the day is through.

9.) Old Man Roadblock: He was here first. In the aisle and on the planet. Old Man Roadblock has discovered the exact geographical center of the smallest aisle that you desperately need to go through and he will stand there looking fixedly at..... you know, what the hell is he looking at, anyway? It doesn't matter. You can't squeeze through and you can't wait him out. He is a living glacier, after all. Your only option at this point is to go elsewhere and make a mental note to bitch about it in your blog as soon as you get home.

10.) Mr. I-Don't-Want-to-be-Here: That glowering, don't-fuck-with-me look in his eye; the grim scowl on his face; the quick, purposeful movements; the rude stonewalling of friendly kiosk attendants; the refusal to linger in any store for more than two minutes; and the fact that he'll end up leaving without purchasing a damn thing are all definite signs that you've got a MIDWTBH on your hands. This guy is a prick. This guy is me.


In closing, the carpet-bombing of malls should not be considered a terrorist act.

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3 Comments:

Blogger The Fourth Earl of Excelor said...

I feel category 8 suits yours truly the best. Can you be tired without being a parent? I'm too old for this shit.

6:05 PM  
Blogger Chuckles O'Plenty said...

You're younger than I am, asswipe. And you're category 10 just like the rest of your damn brothers, Captain Individuality.

9:00 PM  
Blogger mark said...

I think I am more of a category 7.

11:03 PM  

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