Thursday, July 27, 2006

Wal-Mart Can Kiss My Ass in Macy's Window

My friend Nikol Lohr (a.k.a. Disgruntled Housewife) moved from Austin to an old school in rural Kansas last year. Recently, after driving 45 minutes to pick up some photos at a Topeka Sam’s Club, the manager refused to make prints of this photo from the cover of her upcoming knitting book, Naughty Needles.

This sudden spurt of decency emanates from a store that sells both R-rated movies and swimwear for pre-pubescent tweens cut way more revealingly than the one worn by Nikol’s admittedly foxy pin-up model.

Apparently, the only kind of sexiness allowed in Waltonville is the mass-produced, pre-chewed variety. Haven't those pasty, freedom-hating bastards ever heard of Alberto Vargas? Without the sweet release he gave our fighting boys in Europe and the Pacific, we'd probably all be speaking German with our mouths full of sushi.

I already have plenty of reasons to never give money to the evil Wal-Mart empire, but I can always use another.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I'm sure that it's the irony that's bothering them more than the cheesecake; the fact that there's something going on with the photo that they just don't get. I've got midwestern relatives who get defensive about things that merely appear to be "hip" or "urban(e)", like Target commercials, NPR or salsa. Wal-Mart's reign of terror will end badly someday like any other petty despot. I saw you walking along Lamar last Tuesday morning, congrats on the house Greg. - Jennings