Chuck Norris to God: "I can hurt you."

Has everyone else been laughing about all those Chuck Norris 'facts' floating around? I know I had a great time with the drum group last weekend as they passed around a fact or twenty. I also saw a clip on the internet of Chuck Norris reading these Chuck Norris 'facts'...he seemed to like all of them except for the one that said "Chuck Norris wasn't 'born', he merely punched himself free of the womb."

You want to know how my February was? Neither do I. No that doesn't make sense, and yes I did know something...but it wasn't that.

If your brain didn't explode from trying to comprehend that sentence, read on.

*Warning: Pessimism and Night-incalculable Negativity lies ahead:*

I saw a toddler with a Skullet.

Yes friends, I had to do a double take to make sure my eyes did not deceive me, but I can assure you 'tis no fiction. And where, praytell did I see this white trash youngster? Where else but Walmart!?

It's been quite awhile since I had a good old fashioned rant about Walmart, and after witnessing that little freak of nature I had no choice but to express my feelings internet-ically.

I'm at Wally World quite a bit, and every time I'm there I'm still somehow surprised at the people arround me. Seriously, Walmart makes Ripley's Believe it or Not seem like Petticoat Junction. Maybe it's just my completely undying hatred for human beings in general, but the people who brush up against me there make me want to crap in rage. Not only do they still feel it neccesary to grope the fresh fruit like an underage prostitute with their mucous-covered tentacles, they let their dirty kids run wild in the lingerie section, having bra fights while calling each other names that would make George Carlin blush. Clad in mullets and soiled sweatpants, these patrons decide it's their sole purpose in life to cut me off while I'm trying to shop and walk at a pace that, if measured in IQ points, would make Corkey from Life Goes On look like Albert freaking Einstein, all the while gabbing away about subjects like 'Pricilla's latest baby conceived out of wedlock' or 'That squirrel I cooked last night sure does give me gas'...and why is it ALWAYS my luck to get into the express lane behind someone who wants to pay for $150 of groceries in individual food stamps, old people writing checks, or of course checkers who are as incompitent as the guy who botched the Gorbachev assassination?

I tend to avoid this one particular checker like the plague (which I'm sure he carries): First off, he's a smelly hippie which as you all know is major points off. He really is a hippie too, he always wears a tie-died shirt thats four sizes too large underneath his pastel blue Walmart smock, he always smells like Dom DeLouise's bathroom after 'all you can eat burrito night' at the local eatery, and he has a pony tail that hasn't been washed since Franklin D Roosevelt had the use of his legs. I consciously TRY to avoid him when I go but somehow through the infinite mysteries of the cosmos (or karma), he unfailingly hails me over to his checkstand, or takes over for the checker who's line I had been standing in, so they could go on break. I bought a couple bags of M&M's for my birthday party last month and he felt the need to tell me about the Reeses Pieces that just came out that had peanuts instead of peanut butter inside the shell...apparently he can't eat chocolate (probably because his mother drank bong water while he was in the womb) so it was a good alternative to peanut M&Ms for him. I stared at him blankly while a twenty-foot line of people formed behind me, of course blaming ME for having to wait and to heft their industrial-sized cases of Pabst Blue Ribbon and three ounces of baby formula, all while attempting to keep their soiled sweatpants up around their waists. I go to Walmart to save money, not to check out the local freakshow or to engage in philosophical conversations with freaking hippies about why chocolate gives him wandering spleen syndrome.

Call me a bigot, call me soulless I really don't care...I'm not putting myself on this pedistal, thinking I'm better then any of those people shopping at Walmart...all I'm saying is that the next time the guy who looks like Louie Anderson wearing a huge diaper cuts in line (leading to the freaking hippie I always seem to be destined to associate with), I'm going to freak out and genetically cleanse the store. Actually what will REALLY happen is that I'll take it with silent good humor, since my bad mood will wear off as soon as I go to sleep tonight.

Ahhhh the good old-fashioned pointless, poorly thought out rant...the ZCCNL back at it's roots.

This is Zach, indifferently mentioning "Don't add me to your block list".