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(he doesn't drive anymore [stroke], but owns a car and likes to know it's ready to go -- "just in case")... I made the mistake of going to Wal-Mart. Here's the thing... I never have as many violent thoughts in close proximity to each other as I do when I'm in Wal-Mart. Idiots seem to collect there. There is always some fat ass lady standing in the middle of an isle deciding which coco crispies brand to get her idiot 12-year-old, of course not letting anyone else get through the isle while she completes this strenuous task. Then theres the lady with about 14 screaming babies in her cart. She's numb to the brain warping screeches that endlessly rocket out of the mouths of her vial spawn, but god help her, she won't give them a bitch slap for the rest of us! And NOW, the Wal-Mart minister of propaganda has to shout at me while I pump gas?! SCREW THAT. I'm going back to the place that smells a little like livestock, and where the guy with the turban and the thick beard looks like he wants to stab me in the neck every time he says "Thank you, come again". Seriously, it beats Wal-Mart. --Mike
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