2/25/01-The Wal-Mart sideshow

  First of all, I was in the house for most of the day, doing nothing again. Well that's not quite true, I was thinking about all the things I could be doing if I had an ounce of ambition, so I wasn't in the optimal mood to enjoy the cornucopia of lameness that is the general public. It was a rainy Sunday so I'm thinking the nascar couples and mullet heads will be swarming all over Wal-Mart like America on a catch phrase. To my surprise, the parking lot is pretty empty, "sweet Jeebus!" I say to my self, "I may just be able to walk down an aisle without having to dodge frenzied bargain hunters like your drunken grandma trying to do the macarena at a punk rock wedding."

  As I walk in I'm confronted by not one, but two handicap greeters, as if there was a support group meeting being held right there next to the dog collar vending machine! Now don't get me wrong, I have nothing against cripples, but I think there are probably some people who might be a little uncomfortable with the idea of Johnny thalidomide bum-rushing their children with a roll of smiley faces clutched in their flipper whilst drooling out some half hearted welcome. Then there are the people, like me I guess, who couldn't care less about a persons physical state, but just doesn't know how to act around the physically challenged. (Physically challenged?! As if someone dared them to go through life like that. "I betcha can't get real job if I take away half of your spinal cord." "You're on!") So here I am trying to be nonchalant and not stare, "Hello!" sticker boy says, with all the gusto one could expect from someone that needs the concentration of a monk just to stop doing a really lame Katherine Hepburn impression. "Howdy" I say smiling, as I confidently look him in the eye, then twitching mouth, then shriveled up hand "oh god!" I think, "I'm smiling!" "He's gonna think I'm laughing at his little kid arms!" "Quick!" "Look somewhere else!" "But Where?!" "Over there, look at that guy, he's O.K." "Oh god another one! And I'm still smiling! Just keep walking." Finally I'm through the flipper man gauntlet and I can get on with my abject consumerism safe in the knowledge that there's probably a limit to the number of cripples that can be on duty at the same time, you know, the Wal-Mart cripple cap.

  I finally make it to the electronics ghetto, (or is it more of a gated community?), I head towards the video game section. I'm just rounding the discount CD rack (You know, where that "who let the dogs out?" CD is headed as we speak.), when I'm almost run down by some legless Dale Earnhardt. (He's what?....OOPS.) Anyways, as I'm sidestepping, all I can think about is not his rudeness, but whether or not he thinks I'm showing off with my fancy "legs". It made me think of the time one of my athletic high school buddies who developed knee problems said to me "You have perfectly good knees and you don't even need them!" The theory being, if you don't play sports you're just wasting your knees. Well he didn't think about all the rogue wheelchair pilots I'd have to dodge now did he?

  I'd have to give this little show 2 out of five stars, while dealing with cripples can be entertaining, I think a little goes a long way. Plus........ It was fucking Wal-Mart!

Rev. P. Jack Hankering

03/18/01 Comic Book Guy

    Sometimes life makes you think, "cartoons are so real". Case in point, if you've ever watched the Simpsons you're familiar with the Comic Book Guy, (I think that's his actual name) and his attitude of superiority based on his knowledge of comics culture, even though he's an aging, overweight, balding, demi-virgin (wait a minnit!........nah, I'm not balding.). Anyway, last week I ran into the personification of comic book guy, and boy, It couldn't have been more accurate if they had taken the character straight from this guy's ad on the Marvel Comics Super Matchmaker™ website. He even had the "skullet" in full bloom (Balding with a ponytail for those of you not familiar with all the permutations of the mullet.) and the crappy little beard.

   Now there's nothing wrong with comic books, and most of the adults who read comic books, or even "collect" them, are reasonably well adjusted, productive members of society. But there's a small, fanatical, fringe group of basement dwellers who's very existence seems to hinge upon whether or not they change artists for the latest X-Men title in mid-story, and this guy and his, "not quite a caricature" buddy, certainly fit snugly into that group.

   M.C. Rhossis had told me there was a decent comic shop in New Haven so, since I was on vacation and he was out of work, we decided to check it out. As we walked in the first thing I noticed was how small it was. The racks are all the way up to the ceiling and filled to capacity. Being so small, it's inevitable that if someone is talking above a whisper, you're gonna overhear their conversation. Then I noticed comic book guy's voice; it wasn't loud, just at a level where the word jackass comes to mind. Like he wanted to be sure everyone knew his opinion about Herb Trimpe's stint as artist for the Incredible Hulk. "I met him at Comic-Con in 88', He's a hell of a guy, and the only guy besides Jack Kirby who could draw the Hulk right." He said to his eagerly nodding companion, who from here on I shall refer to as "suit-boy" as he was wearing some crappy suit and that's the only thing I really remember about his appearance. "Yeah." Replied suit-boy proudly, "I met him at Comic-copia 91', he signed my copy of Hulk, issue number 181!" "The first appearance of Wolverine, sweet!" Retorted Comic Book Guy. "Now here," Comic Book Guy said, as he picked up an issue of Green Lantern, "Here's a book that really changed comics." "Exactly!" Suit Boy affirmed, gleeful in the knowledge he was about to score points with a line from the aforementioned acme of comics' culture. "My ward is a junkie!" he quoted. "You know, I don't even collect comics any more, I just buy the ones I like to read." Comic Book Guy pontificated, as he gave the clerk his money for a case of mylar bags to keep those "just for readin' comics" in. "Yeah, my dream is to get my collection down to 10 or 11 boxes." Suit Boy said, thinking his boasting wouldn't be perceived as such. "10 boxes!" "I wish I only had 10 boxes!" Comic Book Guy replied smugly.

   After about 15 minutes of this kind of banter, I decided that I didn't care for comics anymore and that I would pursue more "mature" hobbies such as fly fishing, or spousal abuse. "You ready?" I asked M.C. Nodding affirmatively, he and I exited. As we got outside the first thing I said was "Did you hear that crap?" "What, those guys?" He responded. "Yeah," I said, "Holy fucking Simpsons characters!" "Yeah, no shit." He agreed, and we walked away knowing deep in our hearts that we were better than them, no matter how many hours we would spend later that day in front of the television watching re-runs of Moesha.

   There are people like this in every group involved in a particular pastime. From gear-heads that argue about the best after-market fuel pumps in line at the auto parts store, to the punks who are more than happy to explain exactly why the band you like is not punk enough. And the beanie baby collector who, when presented with an obvious (only to him or her) knock-off beanie laughs openly in your face, or the computer geek who sings songs about his friends lack of knowledge regarding HTML. Usually they are easy to spot and avoid, but sometimes your worlds collide, and then, Satan help the innocent dabbler.

Rev. P. Jack Hankering