Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I thought you were someone else.
Maybe it's because of all time time sipping soy chai lattes at New Moon, but I believe the Devil (yeah, capital D) is among us. This Devil- a "they" or "gender-queer"- is found under the harsh florescent lights, glowing through the big screen TVs, and nestled between the 48 pack of Crystal Lite at Costco.
I recently went to this super! mega! store in suburban Detroit. A bleary and weary traveler, I had left my cocoon in Northern New England to be traveling along a highway with McDonald's and wacky-wavy-inflatable-balloon-man on every corner.
My mother wanted to go to Costco because I'm home now, I eat a lot, and food is expensive. I walk into this superstore to find 100+ televisions blasting "the game" and kiddies running around, throwing dvds, ipods, and pool toys that we just can't live without.
A salesperson in a hairnet offers me a nip of some new ranch dressing. No thank you, I say. Some woman is being eaten by her pants as she grabs 100 frozen chicken patties in a bag. An able-bodied 50-something is riding around in a motorized scooter, as I contemplate what health problems have been caused by this establishment, how my taxes will have to pay for it, and if I'm really a republican after all.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not above the deals at Costco. Although the bulk food wasn't on my tab, I squealed at the huge jar of almond butter and 4 logs of fresh mozzarella. But just like seeing the same "vintage" floral dress hanging on a rack with 10 other floral dresses just like it at Urban Outfitters, there is something sad, and sick, about bulk consumerism. I don't need to be wearing the same dress as some ironic glasses girl at Indie Party number 346 and I don't need three gallons of soy milk at a time.
There is something satisfying about finding an adorable dress (for $2) in a church basement and there is something sexy- yeah, I said it- about scooping out the fresh mozzarella balls out of the water in the fromage section. While my mother and I were buying feta, spinach, and garbanzo beans (so many!), Costco took the love and humanity out of food.
Costco doesn't use plastic bags and it saves hardworking Americans money. But it is also the poster-child for American consumerism and a complete alienation from local food or food from the land.
Welcome to Suburbia. Welcome to America.
3 comments:
well put, els, my dear.
i've only been to BJ's and they have flat screen tvs at the end of every aisle so you can watch infomercials and immediately buy what is seen on tv!!
so weird.
-m
1. are you saying all gender-queers are the devil? as one, I take offense.
2. a similar scene exists a mere 2 miles from the very New England cocoon you left. fuck.
3. and how do you know the the 50 year old man is able bodied? Who are you, Walter? you should of pulled him out of his jazzy. HJAHAHAAH
4. no one in America, or at least no one who shops at Costco, works hard. Or at least hard enough to warrant this orgy of destructive convenience.
I loled at this item. I had a similar inclination to post my own head explosion at Costco, but it couldn't have been any better than this. the place is fucking gagworthy (esp in vermont, which totally ruined any idyllic presumptions I still held about this place).
The most interesting thing, I find, is that a they do sell organic and "healthy" foods IN BULK! so it's easy for the self-righteous health nut to shop at the same place where people buy 12 pound bags of cheetos. And, they say buying in bulk is good for the environment. However, I spotted a 48 pack of BAGGED APPLE SLICES. that is, pre-cut apple slices in bags. Conclusion: costco reeks of inductrial farming and other terrible things.
Fuck tha superstore.
and, BJs is a hiLARious name.
m, we probably crossed paths at the BJ's in portsmouth while we were buying bulk candy and cola for campers at PEA. i remember thinking that BJ's was an hilarious name around the age of 14.
emle, the 50 year old woman was able bodied, unless being overweight does not make you such. i actually had a similar conversation with H, who indeed, wanted to pull overweight americans out of their jazzies, a la walter "i didn't watch my buddies die face down in the muck..."
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