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8:13 a.m. - Thursday, Aug. 19, 2004
Broken in Spirit But Not in Toe
Toe not broken. The podiatrist said the radiologist is a big drama queen. Well, she didn't say that, but it would have been amusing if she had, wouldn't it? Instead of being just a tiring waste of time.

And then I went to the Wal-Mart Super Center. They have cheap-but-not-too-cheesy, nicely scented liquid-soap-type stuff that I like. They have cat litter, cheap. They have bird suet, cheap.

Note to self: it's not worth it.

Every time I go into the Wal-Mart Super Center, I emerge praying that the nuclear holocaust will come swiftly. Deh vieni, non tardar, o gioia bella — come swiftly, do not tarry, come and wash clean the face of earth, come and stop this madness, before all the green fields are covered over in Wal-Mart Super Centers and the earth itself suffocates beneath the asphalt.

You can't drive 10 miles in any direction from my house without running into a Wal-Mart Super Center.

I suppose a generation of people is coming up for whom this will not be a problem, a generation that doesn't know what a field of wildflowers looks like, that doesn't know what silence is and so can't feel its absence, that has never seen the stars at night; a generation whose heart opens up with joy at the sight of a Wal-Mart Super Center the way mine does at the sight of so many things that are disappearing beneath the Wal-Mart Super Centers.

Then I'll die, and so the last unhappy person will vanish from the earth, and all will be fluorescent lighting, blacktop, cheap prices and joy.


On the other hand, at least in the Wal-Mart Super Center the mosquitoes don't eat you alive.


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