Sometimes one has no other option than to go to "The Worst Place in the World" ( Country Mouse), especially at 8am on a public holiday when every right-minded local bourgeois shopkeeper is enjoying a bacon sandwich in his pajamas rather than opening his shop. Even at that relatively early hour, the aisles were full of waddling Wal-Martians ( Country Mouse), shuffling and drooling like the unholy offspring of George Romero and Ronald McDonald.
While paying for my shopping in the "Express Lane" (so named it seemed because the employee manning the register had expressed her brain out her nose at some point in her distant adolecence rather than for any speedy checkout procedures) I happened to glance up at a large cardboard box next to the cigarettes on a rack behind her station. Written on it were the words:
Such is the influence of Wal Mart's Bentonville, Arkansas home office that it even extends to the English language, it seems. I wonder if in internal memos they refer to shoes as "daggun foot leathers"? Just a thought.