If People Can’t Push a Shopping Cart, Why Should we Expect them to Drive a Car?

I was going to save this for Sunday’s “A Week in Review”, but this needed to stand on its own…

This afternoon graced me with an unforgettable trip to Costco, you know, that ginormous (ooh, a History Channel word!) warehouse where you can’t buy a normal box of cereal, and have to settle for a behemoth twenty-five pound crate of Fruit Loops. So anyway, I really noticed something this time more than any other. It’s always been there, but on this day, it started screaming at me, alerting yet another monumental masterwork of stupidity by the human race. Have you ever been in a packed store and looked closely at the customers pushing their carts around? No, they don’t just push from aisle to aisle picking up items they need, they wander around aimlessly, staring up towards the heavens looking at the bright lights that shine down. We know humans are enamored with shiny objects, namely flashing lights, which is why traffic slows to a standstill even when two cars get into an insignificant fender bender, but even store lights seem to captivate the masses. The day I start a religious cult, I will suspend myself from the roof of a building with a spotlight attached to my head, only to be lowered down into a golden shopping cart. But back to the moral of the story…

During the twenty minutes I was there, I saw a woman push her cart so close to the edge of an aisle that it scraped along and knocked out items all over the floor, after making this screechy sound as the metal rubbed against other metal. She walked about ten feet before she even realized what she did. But that’s okay, she was on her cell phone and probably couldn’t concentrate on walking while talking, let alone pushing a cart filled to the brim with red meat and dish detergent. Then there was another woman on her cell phone, screaming at someone. I think it was in English, but I could not tell. I am leaning towards yes, because she looked American and even Americans can’t articulate a real language aside from T-9 anymore.

Near the end of my sojourn through the bottled water section, I was almost run over by yet another woman on a cell phone. One thing they all had in common, besides making themselves seem dumber than a fifth grader, is that they were all morbidly obese. I am not a small guy myself, even with the 31 pounds I have lost since my New Year’s Resolution, but I must have been the skinniest person in the place, small children aside, who were busy taking advantage of the free samples of unhealthy foods at the end of each aisle. It was here that it hit me dead in the face. These people, these walking containers of fluids and carbon, could not even push a cart in a straight line, and now, when they are done murdering each other for the last frozen Pad Thai, they are going to get into a car…and drive…on the road…at 50 miles per hour…with other people! It’s no wonder we have so many accidents. People should have to pass a walking test before they are even allowed to take a driving test. Think this story is amusing? Next time you are in a store, go take a look.

Not to attack women here, but let’s face it, they are the worst drivers, the three most severe cases being young girls in red cars, rich cougars in luxury SUV’s, and soccer moms in mini-vans. Men have their moments too, but women are ahead of the game here, especially when it comes to shopping carts. I would be a full proponent of attaching bumpers and blinkers to these carts, and maybe even putting yellow lines on the ground just to give them some extra practice. We can even have small carts for the children, because they are our future, after all.

This is all leading to me having an immense fear of becoming a recluse, because I am beginning to feel afraid to leave my house. Every time I step foot in a store I wonder if I will be coming home alive, and not traumatized by some idiot who is hogging up what is left of the dwindling oxygen on this earth, because we have decided that trees are annoying. Before you know it, I will become just like J.D Sallinger, only I won’t be famous for um…well…not wanting to be famous.


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