The Wal-Mart Effect - Cosmology On Aisle 7

Yeah, Wal-Mart again. I know, it's like eating potato chips or picking at a scab. I just can't quit, even though I know I should.

Anyhow, I've observed and written at some length about how it is that certain classes of people tend to shop at Wal-Mart in clusters. I don't know if they send out an email or what, but some days are "Flip-Flops and Back Fat" day,

She Likes It From Behind (Shudder)

some are "Dress Like A Rock-n-Roll Slut" day, or "Stereotypical Cartoon Trailer Trash" day, or "Non-English-Speaking TWA (Third World Assassin)" day, or "White Boy Slouching Around In Ghetto Gang Shit" day (AKA "Wiggers Day".).

A Group Of Wiggers (White Boys Who Think They're Black)

I've never been copied on the memo, so I always assumed that my assigned role in the overall plan is to observe and laugh at all the above who are apparently performing for me. Turns out I may have been wrong. I don't know whether it was on purpose or not, but I got a glimpse behind the wizard's curtain, and I think I've figured it out.

Today was "Pretty Girls In Cut-Offs and Tank Tops" day, one of my favorites.  The Next Of Kin and I were rolling up and down the aisles, getting stuff, and around every corner there was another one or two or three, often in clusters. Even The Next of Kin noticed.

CO&TT Day
(Always Good For A Smile)

"Lot of pretty girls in here today," she said, "wonder what's up?" I told her I didn't know, which I didn't, but I did know that it just happens sometimes, and it's best to just enjoy it and not worry about it.

Now, Wal-Mart is divided into two parts - the "Food" part and the "Other Shit" part. If you've ever been on a trip of some sort and stopped in at a Wal-Mart in a strange town, you already know that, because every single Wal-Mart in the universe looks exactly like the one in your town. It's almost disorienting to leave the store and discover that you're still in Billings, MT instead of just down the road from your house.

Anyhow, we'd started in the "Other Shit" part, but after getting what we needed and cruising the DVD section for a bit, we headed across the big aisle to get some groceries - and were nearly struck by a gigantic (we're talking 350 lbs plus here) sloppy-fat transsexual dressed in black, sporting a wispy beard and heavily applied goth/emo makeup, pushing his/her/its wobbly-wheeled cart with one hand and growling into a cell-phone with the other.

He/She/It was closely followed by another sloppy tattooed freak. I shrugged and continued shopping for a bit before I noticed the other shoppers around me - and then it occurred to me.


Wal-Mart had suddenly transitioned into "Freak Show" day - all the pretty girls were gone. I stopped in my tracks and turned around to look back across the aisle - nothing there but freaks. My sudden change of direction nearly got me run over by a forty- or fifty-year-old, scabby, orange-haired crack-whore with a two-year-old in the grocery cart seat who was wearing a camouflage tshirt that said "I'm Proof My Mom Likes To Fuck!" in large orange letters.

"Uhmmm...what happened?" I asked the Next of Kin. She knew immediately what I meant.

"I don't know. Did we cross an unmarked international border somewhere or something?"

And suddenly, just like that, I knew The Secret.

Wal-Mart is the center of the universe.

That's why all Wal-Marts look the same, no matter where you are - they ARE the same, they're the same store. When you walk into a Wal-Mart, you are entering the nexus of the universe, the crossing point to everywhere - or at least everywhere Wal-Mart is known to exist. Which is everywhere.

And this one time, the membrane that separates MY universe from the others thinned a bit, and it was possible to cross over. Was it a deliberate experiment by the Wal-Mart overlords in Bentonville, Arkansas? Or was it accidental? I'll probably never know, but I suspect the wormhole was right at the main aisle which separates the "food" part and the "other shit" part.

Here's a diagram of what has apparently occurred:

The Wal-Mart Effect
(The Cosmology of Aisle 7)

I've been exploring my new universe all day. So far, it seems to be exactly the same as the old one, which is a good thing, since I apparently can't go back. Trust me, I hunted all over the store for cut-offs and tank-tops, but they were gone.

As a side note, all this hunting for babes in tank tops seemed to annoy the Next of Kin. She was singularly unimpressed when I explained about the wormhole - seems like a discovery of this magnitude would rate more than a slap in the back of the head and an admonition to "keep it in your pants." For my money, it was a pretty undignified response to scientific inquiry.

But even though SHE didn't buy it, you can take it from me - be careful when you're dicking around at Wal-Mart.

I guess there's no PRACTICAL difference, although I am curious what the subtle differences between this universe and the other really are. There must be some.

Oh, well, I guess as long as I still get to entertain myself by arguing that right-wing nutjob Archer back from the fringes now and again and all the women following me here continue to lust after me with the wild abandon I've become accustomed to, I'll be too busy for it to matter one way or the other.

In Our Next Episode: I explain to the Next Of Kin why I've moved this refugee from our home universe into the guest room in order to watch over her. Least I can do. Poor little thing's not handling the transition very well.