Jesus.
These people just outside of the Costco parking lot. Filled their SUV with so much crap they don’t need – that no one needs – and now they’re pulling over. Pulling over because they have so much shit that it’s shifting all over the inside of the goddamn truck and now they have to re-optimize their load, right here on the median of the road in between the warehouse store and the big ass “fashion centre” where everything can be purchased but a soul and some fucking sense of self-restraint.
These people – still stuck here with their hazard lights on while the panicked bald dad-unit frantically arranges things through the open tailgate so his precious products don’t tumble all over the place – consumered so damn much that they can’t get a handle on it. Can’t contain their $5 roast chicken and their 60 rolls of toilet paper and those four patio chairs that are almost but not entirely unlike real Adirondack chairs (but will look oh-so-perfect next to their $800 grill) and their 50 pounds of cat litter and their cases of La Croix water and their sleeves of fat-and-carb-packed bagels and their dozen toothbrushes and everything else. So much crap that they can’t possibly keep it contained in the 74.7 square feet of cargo space that their folded-down seats in their giant, inefficient compromise of a car provides for them.
When the revolution comes I know who goddamn well will be the first ones against the wall. When the apocalypse comes I know who the first sons-a-bitches who will be asking their neighbors for help because they can’t possibly figure out how to survive without a 72-ounce cheesecake, a three-pound bag of almonds and a box of 140 frozen mini-quiches, fresh for them at their convenience. These assholes, that’s who. They’ll probably resort to cannibalism before figuring out how to go out into the world and fend for their fat, privileged selves.
Oh, wait. That was us. Pulling over on the way home from Costco yesterday because we were worried that the chicken would fall onto the Adirondack chairs and, possibly, the 60-pack of toilet paper.
Bring on the revolution. The wall looks comfortable, actually.
