The Wal-Marts are all the same
A couple years ago, I wrote about a weekend at home that featured a trip to Wal-Mart:
We walked inside. Immediately, my eyes took in an interesting coincidence: every man in the store was wearing a tank top. (I am trying to get away from the usage of the obloquy "wifebeater" for while I appreciate the negative light it casts upon the article of clothing, I find the term rather misogynistic.) Most had hairy backs and deformed, twisted tattoos that used to resemble something on their flabby arms. All wore mesh trucker's caps and several were accompanied by homely, obese wives and unruly children with either fittingly unruly hair or a mohawk-in-the-making.
This ismy hometownthe place where my parents live.
Flash Warner found not much has changed, and they're really excitable about shoplifters:
"I headed to Wal-Mart... There are times when my desperation knows no bounds."
It's worth the read.
