Let’s be frank: working retail can be a bitch sometimes. The hours are long and the wages are small. You’re on your feet all day, and if the customers are having a bad day, they take it out on you. The work is tedious, prompting an existential crisis when you’ve heard the same Elton John song on the radio twice in one day and wonder what you’re doing with your life: “Should I go back to college? Were my parents right? What if I die tomorrow and this was it? What if I die when I’m 80 and I’m still working here? Who is this ‘Tiny Dancer’ and where can I meet him?”
All of those things are awful, but the worst part of any day at a retail job is when nuclear family comes in with out of control children. For a moment, things are peaceful, and then it strikes. Maybe it comes in the form of a crying baby, screaming and shrieking with the intensity of a small mammal caught in a bear trap. Or perhaps it’s an over-energetic toddler running amok, shouting and messing with the display you just built.
Regardless, it’s always a waking nightmare when some ugly baby comes in and ruins your work day, especially when the parents are just letting it happen without any consequence. That’s why I applaud the heroes at this shop who are taking a stand for all retail workers that are tormented by hyper-active children and their lackadaisical parents.
One of the big losers in Tuesday’s runoff election was wannabe politician Paul “I Was Never In The KKK” Blair.
Not only did the pro football player turned vending machine owner turned hate-spewing bigoted church minister lose his runoff to political newcomer Adam Pugh by a 55% to 45% margin, but he responded to the defeat by issuing a ridiculous letter via his advocacy group “Reclaiming America For Christ.”
Here’s one snippet that particularly stood out. Via Non Doc:
Dammit, it’s over. The Olympic flame in Rio is no more. If you want to feel the true emotion that the end of the Games of the XXXI Olympiad leveled on me, be sure to turn your volume to the maximum before you view that last link. Now let us Americans destroy comradery and get back to our deeply, divided politics. You know, the American way.
Rio somehow pulled off the unthinkable and hosted the games without many glitches. With the threat of collapsing buildings, toxic beaches and something Munich-esque transpiring, the worse moments to emerge were the water of a diving pool turning green and a jackass American swimmer and his cronies urinating at a gas station, but not in the bathroom. Tokyo definitely started the ball rolling correctly for the next summer games by dressing Japan’s Prime Minister, Shinzo Abe, as Mario as he emerged from a green pipe during the Rio’s closing ceremony.
Luckily for us, college football’s opening day is next week. If it wasn’t for that, I’d be done with everything and begin riding the rails in a hobo life, searching for who knows what. Maybe a meaning for life, or for the next Katy Ledecky, Usain Bolt or the phenom who can bring the United States the gold medal in water polo.
Thanks college football!
Here’s your Friday Night in the Big Town….
When we last left Louis, he was plum tuckered after an exhaustingly unironic day at Silver Dollar City and an exhilarating night seeing the incomparable Shoji Tabuchi in concert. Tucking himself tightly in with the highly expensive comforter on best bed he’s ever slept in courtesy of the Village at Indian Point, Louis drifts off to slumberland, dreaming of fudge and cookie cutters and American pride…
Come Back to the Five and Dime, Louis Fowler, Louis Fowler
Have you ever been in a whirlpool tub?
I have and I have never felt so clean in my life. Those high-powered jets blast-washed every nook and cranny while I just sat back and relaxed, thinking this is what s must feel like to be Prince Akeem of Zamunda. I’m sure you can guess why.
Today’s activities in Branson started with a morning trip to Dick’s 5 & 10, 103 W. Main St., a massive take on the classic “dime store’ model that feels like an over-stuffed mixture of Hobby Lobby, Spencer’s and that one room in your grandma’s house filled with the remnants of her secret shopping addiction shame—seriously, do you need a weather vane that says “Live, Laugh, Love”? How many ceramic pig chef cookie jars does one person need? Didn’t you get your fill of cookie-cutters at Silver Dollar City yesterday?
Of course, I say that and then I come upon their shelf of Beatles merch. Being an absolute Fab Four obsessive, I was tempted to splurge on Christmas ornaments (forget I never have a tree), coffee mugs (forget I don’t drink coffee) and…uh oh…a 27 by 40 art print where the moptops from Liverpool are anachronistically conversing and eating pie with Elvis, Jimi Hendrix, James Dean, Dale Earnhardt and Princess Di in a 50s-style diner.
“Boy, I sure do wonder what they are talking about in this picture…” I said to myself, mentally formulating the outline for some sort of fanfic piece, as I handed the Dick’s clerk my credit card.
Duck and Run
Earlier today, a petition requesting Mary Fallin change the name of Durant, Oklahoma to Westbrook made the rounds on the Internet. So far, it has over 300 supporters.
Here are the details:
Ladies and gentlemen, the great state of Oklahoma has been betrayed. As many of you know, Kevin Durant has left our state, torn out our hearts, and left our beloved Oklahoma City Thunder in depleted shape. All of this after even being offered a cabinet position for the State of Oklahoma. It is because of this heinous action that I believe the State of Oklahoma has a responsibility to change the name of the City of Durant to Westbrook, the man who is loyal, whom we believe in, and who will lead our team to glory. Yes, it is understood that the city Durant was not named after the evil Kevin Durant, but it is just another hideous reminder of what happened to our community. Support the Cause. #WestbrookOK.
This is a great idea! While we’re at it, I say we petition the Governor to change the name of Picher to Singler. We should also try to convince Cameron Payne to change his name to Cameron Wayne-Payne. He’d instantly become my favorite player.
Because we live in an over-sensitive world where dumb people can’t spot a joke, some folks are upset by the idea:
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