Don’t think I am crusader against Walmart. I’m not, really. I actually applaud their stiff arm tactics to reduce waste in fuel and packaging material. I have fond memories of wandering the 24 hour Walmart in Ft. Worth during the witching hour and trying to carry on cogent conversations with the gentlemen behind the gun counter. (Yes, back then you could buy a gun at 2:00am, even as a youth. Sorry, no ammo.)
But alas, Walmart, what is one to do? You pour salt on old wounds. You fan into flame old grudges and you heap plastic garbage on old landfills. By all of this ranting I refer of course to the everlasting conflict between quality and price — craft vs. cheap plastic crap. But how can I stay mad at you? Oh provider of cheep CD’s, warehouse of convenience, store of the working man? Especially in such hard financial times as these? After all, my children need wine.
Are you not, Walmart, merely the inevitable product of the system we have created? How can I punish you for being the most efficient and ruthless at the task I have assigned? No, I will not be angry at you. But, angry I will be. Oh society that has created the need for thee — Walmart, my child, my beast — I will rail at thee, wretched society.
So what is to be done? It appears that long ago we decided that fifteen cheap pieces of crap for a dollar are better than one well crafted equivalent for $15. For the good of the economy, let it be so. But for the good of the world, oh no. (O.k. no more rhyming and I mean it.) Until, as consumers, we can stem this addiction to the crack of consumerism we must deal with Walmart. Until we crave again the bed of our first love we must settle the score with the Madame of mercantile, Walmart.