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Again with the Theater Of The Absurd. Drawn, like moth to flame, to the gaping maw of commercial damnation. You know, the Cathedral of Cheap Plastic Crap. Son Of Sam's Cl*b. With the Smiley Face of Satan. Small town Virginia leaves you with few options in selection when goin' down to th' sto'. Shopping, that is. There comes those few times when all else fails, and facing the abyss is the only answer when you need drawls. Or about anything else. This was my quest. And, oh, did I have Revelations. Witness... the Aprodite of Cheap Plastic Crap. XXL E*rnhardt t-shirt, worn like a mini dress... see-thru black shorts leering underneath. Belly sticking out further than the "bosom." With this apparition, neither: disrespect the President, make sarcastic remarks about flag decals, or eat sushi in the vicinity. Or Hell Comes To Your House. Descend another level into the inferno.... Past the aisles of Christmas desecratons. On display September 27th. Sweet Jesus. And trip down another level, when peering down upon you is the three-dimensional Smiley Face Of Satan, recreated in foam... jauntily capped with a Santa hat. For only $9.95. Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here. Horrifying, to embrace the remains of the hurricane in the parking lot as refuge. I know, stay out of those places. Because Temptation... Revulsion... enlightenment... these things await. Good thing that town's got the Mother Of All Donut Shops in which to find redemption, and a reason to go on living. If TV's got the Emmys, theater the Tonys... then that bakery deserves a Homer (Bart's daddy, in statuette)... and a pedestal in Glory.
mmmm... Donuts. |
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