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Woman Sues Wal-Mart Over Snippy GreeterDecember 24, 2001 |
Cankersore, IN Chelton Rancor Mrs. Wang returning a $5 bill to Walmart customer service because of "unacceptable doodling"
Mrs. Anita Wang, of nearby Uvulaville, said that she had been in Wal-Mart three times in the last week, and that the greeter, a Ms. Diana Dwart, had ignored her on one occasion, greeted her with "just a flat smile and a close-mouthed 'mm-hmm'" on another visit, and was "downright snippy" the last time she went in the store.
"I mean, what do they pay that woman to do? To greet people, right?" asked Mrs. Wang. "Then why doesn't she greet me when I walk in there? Why doesn't she say hello, how are you, or something like that? I've watched her, and she always says ...
frequent Wal-Mart shopper alleges that the woman hired as a greeter at her local outlet is "not very friendly" to her, and is taking the chain to court for restitution for what she terms "mental distress."
Mrs. Anita Wang, of nearby Uvulaville, said that she had been in Wal-Mart three times in the last week, and that the greeter, a Ms. Diana Dwart, had ignored her on one occasion, greeted her with "just a flat smile and a close-mouthed 'mm-hmm'" on another visit, and was "downright snippy" the last time she went in the store.
"I mean, what do they pay that woman to do? To greet people, right?" asked Mrs. Wang. "Then why doesn't she greet me when I walk in there? Why doesn't she say hello, how are you, or something like that? I've watched her, and she always says hello to other shoppers. But when I come in, you'd think I was bringing the plague in with me. She looks the other way, she turns her nose up, and the last time I was there – and this was really the last straw for me – she actually sneered when I said hello first! Well, I just couldn't believe that Wal-Mart would hire someone that rude, but when I went to complain to the manager, he just looked at me like I was crazy. Like it was my fault that their employee was nasty to me! That's when I decided to take my case to court."
Asked to comment, Ms. Dwart said that Mrs. Wang has been a long-time problem at that particular store, and is well-known to management as "trouble with a capital T."
"She's been a burr in my bee-hind for years now," said Dwart. "If you ask me, she's not right in the head. She comes in here every week and complains about something. Last week, she went off about us not having 'blue-light specials' anymore. When we told her that was K-Mart, and not Wal-Mart, she started raising holy heck, and told us she was going to sue us all. The week before that, it was something about the soft-serve ice cream being too soft. It's always something with her."
When informed of Ms. Dwart's comments, Mrs. Wang responded by jumping up and down and shrieking, "She said that? Oooh, I'm going to sue all of them, I'm going to sue them until I own that company, and then I'm going to fire her fat b-u-t-t!" After approximately twenty minutes of this behavior, paramedics were called and Mrs. Wang was given a heavy dose of tranquilizers.
No court date has yet been announced for Mrs. Wang's civil action. Bludney Plud is The Reporter Formerly Known as Wallace E. Watermelon. When announcing his name change, Watermelon/Plud said, to no one in particular, "I know none of you bastards ever gave two shits about me before, but now there's a new Mr. Macho in town, and his name is Plud. Bludney Plud! Let's see how you treat me NOW!"He made a few subsequent comments, but was drowned out by the chirping of nearby crickets.
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Mauve the "in" color this year for pimps in the know
Hotshot newborn "panda" just monochromatic bear
Global warming ruse official resigns; tired of "how's the weather" jokes
Next hurricane may actually clean up Gulf Coast a little
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Media Plugs CIA Leak ne the most potentially controversial stories in recent years was successfully nipped in the bud by the Bush White House and its ever-faithful assistant, the national news media, as the ongoing story of former Cheney Chief of Staff Lewis Libby’s indictment, the first of a sitting White House official in history, was relegated to page 3 by bored news directors and other major Republican-driven news stories. Libby, called “Scooter” by his many enemies, is the first and likely only casualty of the under-covered story of a White House leak, in which the identity of a working CIA operative, conveniently the wife of Bush opponent Joseph Wilson. Wilson’s wife Valerie Plame was outed as a spy by a conservative columnist, and his source was traced back to the White House. While liberals hoped the 22-month investigation by Special Counsel Patrick Fitzgerald would reveal the dirty tactic came from a source as high as presidential counselor Karl Rove, the most the Democrats could succeed with was a guy named Scooter. And the victory itself was short-lived. French Protestors Politely Riot urious French protestors continued to riot over the weekend, gently overturning traffic cones and unleashing salvos of pithy wit at assembled riot police across some of the roughest neighborhoods in all of Paris. The riots began the previous week in the Seine-Saint-Denis suburb northeast of Paris, sparked by what officials believe was a disagreement over food. “Those incorrigible police buffoons know nothing of fine chocolate!” said impassioned teenage rioter Jean Touloc, only in French. The urbane French police were overwhelmed almost before the rioting even began, requiring the French Army to be brought in last week. The army surrendered four hours later, and plans were being drawn up for a transitional government when some joker switched out the treaty-signing pen with a novelty model that laughs electronically when you try to write with it. The rioters, perhaps correctly believing that they were not being taken seriously, stepped up their boisterous chants of “We beg to differ!” and their disorderly milling-about. Serial Killer’s Neighbor: “He just wouldn’t shut up about serial killing.” Heather Graham’s Career Found Dead in Apartment |
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 August 19, 2002
The Child Star Collector's GuideI'm a ravenous collector myself—be it shoes, dresses, slacks, blouses, socks, or jewelry, if you can wear it and it impresses people, I can collect it. But it's not just limited to normal collectible items. I also collect strange and fun items that most people don't know about.
For quite a few years now I've collected valuable birth control pills. It's a peculiar market that takes a lot of time and effort to learn about, and I've expended the time and effort. My agent even jokes I've spent so much wasted time on my hobby I could've been taking acting classes or pursuing more auditions—he's a terrific kidder.
Birth control pills become collectible when they're not taken and result in pregnancy—obviously birth control pills that are taken cannot be collected, at least not without grotesque invasive procedures. Birth control pills that are not taken and have no consequences are plentiful, especially when taken by people who are not having sex. The real diamond out there is the birth control pill not taken and ends with a baby. I started out collecting them after I found out my mother said she already had one, though she never told me the full circumstances of how she got it and how she knows it resulted with pregnancy. Since I already had that one to start me, I started seeking out other valuable birth control pills to start a collection, not only for fun, but to provide some financial security in my golden years, 35-40.
It's a hard...
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I'm a ravenous collector myself—be it shoes, dresses, slacks, blouses, socks, or jewelry, if you can wear it and it impresses people, I can collect it. But it's not just limited to normal collectible items. I also collect strange and fun items that most people don't know about.
For quite a few years now I've collected valuable birth control pills. It's a peculiar market that takes a lot of time and effort to learn about, and I've expended the time and effort. My agent even jokes I've spent so much wasted time on my hobby I could've been taking acting classes or pursuing more auditions—he's a terrific kidder.
Birth control pills become collectible when they're not taken and result in pregnancy—obviously birth control pills that are taken cannot be collected, at least not without grotesque invasive procedures. Birth control pills that are not taken and have no consequences are plentiful, especially when taken by people who are not having sex. The real diamond out there is the birth control pill not taken and ends with a baby. I started out collecting them after I found out my mother said she already had one, though she never told me the full circumstances of how she got it and how she knows it resulted with pregnancy. Since I already had that one to start me, I started seeking out other valuable birth control pills to start a collection, not only for fun, but to provide some financial security in my golden years, 35-40.
It's a hard market to get in on, I know that from experience. People look at you like your crazy when you ask them if they have any valuable and rare birth control pills for sale—by my best guess they either don't know the market or are hoarding their own private stock. But a few guys, who at first glance seem pretty unreliable and swarthy, in fact have a great collection that they're occasionally willing to part with, for the right price. From one guy I got six different pills of differing value, one resulted in the birth of Freddie Prinz, Jr., and several others led to the births of the members of O-Town, though they're obviously not as valuable as, say, the birth control pills that caused N*Synch—birth control pills both despised and priceless.
The most treasured in my collection—and I'll never tell where I keep it or how I got it, though a drug addict down the street hooked me up with it, that much I'll tell—is the birth control pill that failed to prevent the birth of Prince Charles of the Whales. It's a real rare and old birth control pill from early in the century, back when they made them to look and smell like Altoids. And I got it real cheap from the guy. What a sucker!
My birth control pill collection has grown so much that I had to give up some of my other hobbies to concentrate on it, namely my collection of Who's Your Daddy? memorabilia, which office nerd and financial wizard Ramrod Hurley actually said is worth quite a lot of money now. Still, it didn't mean as much to me as my new collection, although I hate the idea of all that lost money.
I had it all, too— Who's Your Daddy? bedsheets, Who's Your Daddy? pressurized cheese, Who's Your Daddy? "cast sings the blues" CD, and Who's Your Daddy? birth control pills. Too bad I couldn't cross over that collection with my latest in some way, but those damn things work too well, from what I've heard. Anyway, that stuff was so rare that some of the items fetched a price between $100 and $2,000, so I almost wish I had held on to some of that stuff. Instead of selling it to Ramrod Hurley. But hey, a collector's pride is in adding the rare and hard-to-find to your collection, not in financial payoff. At least for me. Ramrod Hurley seems happier with his new Lincoln Towncar. º Last Column: Wearning to Pway Guitahº more columns
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|  December 8, 2003
Volume 57Dear commune:
I want a new ten-speed bike, not a Huffy or a kid’s bike or anything, but one with real handle brakes and everything, something glossed up and ready to go. Something really cool looking. If you want to throw in a helmet or some neon-looking biker shorts, all the better, but I’m not holding my breath.
I also wouldn’t mind a bunch of DVD movies and a new DVD player. I realize the one I got for Christmas last year is still pretty new, but something about the way the front panel lights up—I don’t know, kinda faggy. I’m just saying.
I would also like an electric guitar, whatever you pick out should be fine. I don’t know how to play but I know if I got one I would take the time to learn, no matter what my dad says. Everything does not just end up in the garage gathering dust.
If you could bring me this stuff, which is not a lot to ask, I won’t even ask for anything really big and ridiculous, like having all my bills paid and getting a girlfriend who doesn’t sleep around at the drop of a hat. Oh, but I do want to ask for world peace. Partly because I really want it, partly because I feel like a total asshole if I don’t ask for at least one thing not entirely just for me.
I realize you are not Santa Claus, and this letter did not come to you by mistake. I stopped writing to Santa Claus because Christmas came and I ended up with a big lapful of nothing. I like you guys, you seem like the kind of...
º Last Column: Volume 56
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Dear commune: I want a new ten-speed bike, not a Huffy or a kid’s bike or anything, but one with real handle brakes and everything, something glossed up and ready to go. Something really cool looking. If you want to throw in a helmet or some neon-looking biker shorts, all the better, but I’m not holding my breath. I also wouldn’t mind a bunch of DVD movies and a new DVD player. I realize the one I got for Christmas last year is still pretty new, but something about the way the front panel lights up—I don’t know, kinda faggy. I’m just saying. I would also like an electric guitar, whatever you pick out should be fine. I don’t know how to play but I know if I got one I would take the time to learn, no matter what my dad says. Everything does not just end up in the garage gathering dust. If you could bring me this stuff, which is not a lot to ask, I won’t even ask for anything really big and ridiculous, like having all my bills paid and getting a girlfriend who doesn’t sleep around at the drop of a hat. Oh, but I do want to ask for world peace. Partly because I really want it, partly because I feel like a total asshole if I don’t ask for at least one thing not entirely just for me. I realize you are not Santa Claus, and this letter did not come to you by mistake. I stopped writing to Santa Claus because Christmas came and I ended up with a big lapful of nothing. I like you guys, you seem like the kind of people who can get shit done. You make good on this stuff and I’ll spend 365 days a year worshipping you guys. I’ll also set milk and cookies and a little orange juice with vodka out for you, if you want to come down the chimney. A.J. Ridenhaus
Great Valley, N.D.Dear A.J.:
This may surprise you, but we here at the commune were all touched and inspired by your letter, so we decided to do as you asked. Expect us from 9:30 to midnight on Christmas Eve, though we still have to talk someone into making the run to your house—it’s a little out of the way. But what the heck! It’s a damn shame when you do everything you can to change the world and find it’s the same sad-ass place it was when you came into work this time last year. If we can make one person happy, we’ll consider everything squared. And this year, that lucky person is you.
Of course, the bike won’t be quite what you asked for. Ramrod Hurley bent the frame pretty bad, which is why he doesn’t ride it anymore. And we’re not quite sure if Lil Duncan’s biker shorts will fit you right. And DVDs are a little expensive, so we’re substituting some free thousand hours of AOL discs we acquired. But the electric guitar we can do, enough failed attempts to start bands around here have left us with a pile of them. As for world peace—shit, good luck on that. It’s a scientific fact most people are only happy when other people are unhappy, so there’s no way everybody can live in peace and harmony. But we have an old VHS of Woodstock ’94 we’re passing on to you instead. See how much fun it is when people riot and mosh and exploit the hell out of other folks, then tell us if you still think peace is such a groovy thing.
By the way, all the time and money we’re spending on you this year is what we usually put towards buying and delivering Christmas gifts for local orphans. If they happen to call and ask us why Santa didn’t come this year, we’ll just tell them Santa had to cater to a self-absorbed Gen-Y prick this Christmas. Suck on it, Ridenhaus.
the commune
Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for the over-commercialization of Christmas. Nor are we responsible for the real downers who want to over-Jesus it up either. In fact, between those two warring factions it’s no wonder we’re shit out of holiday spirit already.º Last Column: Volume 56º more columns
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Quote of the Day“Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you're near? Bitch, you stink like birdseed.”
-DJ Qwik BitzFortune 500 CookieThis is really going to be your week: You will be held personally responsible for everything that happens on the world stage this week. Try bathing with Comet instead of soap for a change, trust us, it's just as good. Your lucky haircuts: Duck's Ass, Ant Hill, Elephant's Crotch, Bill the Cat, Baker's Dozen, Louisville Doosey, Bung Wipe.
Try again later.Top Five Worst Things to Hear in an Iraqi Prison| 1. | "Oh, wow! Hold still, let me get my camera!" | | 2. | "From now on, the conduct of corrections officers will be supervised by Private Pyle." | | 3. | "Looks like we're going to be here a while. Good thing I brought my harmonica." | | 4. | "These tattoos? Aryan Brotherhood." | | 5. | "And another thing—you jokers have cried 'Rape!' once too often. I'm not falling for it anymore." | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 4/29/2002 Hey there, America the beautiful! Ready for another go at the bucking bronco that is this month's batch of new releases? I didn't think so. Thankfully for you I'm getting paid to write the column and deal with this crap so you can just sit back, relax, and feel the entertainment love. But before we get into all of that, how about a healthy dose of Ask Roland?
Q. Roland, what do you think of the resistance by American audiences to the obviously superior world of French cinema? Will American "film-goers" ever tire of the endless parade exploding buildings and anti-gravity bosoms and recognize the work of the true masters: Godard, Truffaut and Chabrol? Also, if you were doin' Elle Macpherson and Reese Witherspoon at the same time, who would you pour the hot fudge...
Hey there, America the beautiful! Ready for another go at the bucking bronco that is this month's batch of new releases? I didn't think so. Thankfully for you I'm getting paid to write the column and deal with this crap so you can just sit back, relax, and feel the entertainment love. But before we get into all of that, how about a healthy dose of Ask Roland?
Q. Roland, what do you think of the resistance by American audiences to the obviously superior world of French cinema? Will American "film-goers" ever tire of the endless parade exploding buildings and anti-gravity bosoms and recognize the work of the true masters: Godard, Truffaut and Chabrol? Also, if you were doin' Elle Macpherson and Reese Witherspoon at the same time, who would you pour the hot fudge all over first?
Steve Thomas, Winding Oaks, VA
A. That's a good question, Steve. And the answer is simple: Catherine Zeta-Jones.
Q. Are you as sick as I am of the reprehensible practice of studios doctoring film critics' reviews in order to market their movies? It seems that one can judge the quality of a film to a high degree of accuracy by averaging the number of words in the review quotes they flash during the television commercials. The better films tend to quote entire sentences from a review, while most of the obvious stinkbombs distill a review down to a single word that is taken out of context and could mean anything. A film critic can write that the latest teen toilet-fest is "An astounding display of poor acting, poor directing, and a script that may very well have been squeezed out of a tube," only to be quoted in the commercial as saying the film was "…ASTOUNDING!!"As a film critic yourself, how does it feel to have your work regularly manipulated into misleading sound-bites?
Ted Fanly, Beer Grove, KY
A. …EXPLOSIVE!! –Roland McShyster, the commune
And now for the reason you put up with all of the snide comments about your wardrobe, the movie reviews!
In Theaters
Murder by Numbnuts
Sandra Bullock is on the trail of Jude Law, an idiot who may have killed someone accidentally while cleaning a crossbow he found in the trash. Or is he really a diabolically crafty killer hiding behind the mask of a buffoon? Nope. He's the real McCoy, but Bullock still has her hands full trying to outguess a killer who's next move is always ten times stupider than what she'd thought he would do. The film is successful as a comedy-thriller that keeps you guessing and raises the interesting point: could a total dipwad be the perfect killer?
National Lampoon's Gene Wilder
Following in the footsteps of other National Lampoon classics like Animal House, Vacation and Airwolf, this rather formless comedy attempts to mine comedic gold from the everyday bumblings and fumblings of frizzy-haired funnyman Gene Wilder. A script would have been nice, as would have been some pants for Mr. Wilder himself, but I guess that was supposed to be the big joke, everyone reacting to him not wearing any pants. Whatever. I thought Airwolf was funnier.
The Scorpion King
Easily the most poorly-informed Jim Morrison biography picture to date, trumping even past disgraces like Jim Morrison and the Hell's Angels Save Christmas and Drrrruuuuuuggss Ayeeeaaaaaghh!!! for sheer grave-spinning velocity, a feat which many thought impossible. But, if you're twelve and are willing to believe that Morrison spent his free time freeing the slaves in Egypt and twirling a battle-axe around when he wasn't busy dropping a mork onstage, then I guess you can find some kicks here. Especially if you've got a thing for highly-detailed codpieces and mansweat.
Star Wars 2: Attack of the Blondes
Most people scoffed when they announced the title of the latest Star Wars film, but I for one was glad to hear that the series had finally got back to it's big-haired bimbo roots. The recent films had really been way too full of space muppets and little kids to be of any use to anyone other than kindergarteners and the heavily stoned. Any filmmaker worth his weight in salt knows that the future's greatest gift to us will be form-fitting spandex outfits, and here Lugosi finally gets it right.
On Video:
Band-its
Camouflaged as an ensemble comedy about life's little cuts and bruises, this clever indie scam is actually a product-placement smorgasbord for the adhesive bandage also-ran brand Band-its. This kind of thing is getting so common lately I wonder if Hollywood directors are ever going to turn the tables and start sneaking movies into commercials.
Life is in tha House
The producers would have you believe this is the feel-good urban movie of the year, which really isn't a crowded race since the only competition in that grouping has been Thug Parade and Stone Cole Baby Killaz, but it still manages to fail, unless for you "feeling good" involves retching while you chew up broken glass. Don't get me wrong here, it's not that I think every urban movie should be about drugs and mayhem, but no movie should be such a smarmy wad of platitudes that you spend the film's entire running time hoping for a drive-by. And I don't mean in the movie, I'm talking about in the theater.
The Man Who Wasn't There
It's long been inevitable that Guns 'N' Roses videos would eventually get so long and bloated that they'd have to be released theatrically as feature-length films, so the appearance of this picture didn't exactly surprise me. What I didn't realize was that to this day, Axl is still obsessing over rhythm guitarist Izzy Stradlin leaving the band, as he spends this entire film pondering if he somehow drove Izzy away, either through a lack of communication, halitosis or that one time he set Stradlin on fire. While the films psychoanalytical undertones allow for clever movie review titles like Welcome to the Jung-le, they film really isn't worth much beyond that.
Original Sink
Look folks, just because Bob Vila can act and Bob Vila can produce, and maybe he can swing a hammer pretty good too, that doesn't mean he can write or direct. It's the same mistake they made with Bob Ross, and I don't think anyone who saw Snow Falling on Cedars would ever take that chance again.
Television:
The Has-Beens (M-TV)
Who'd have thought the best mid-season show would be on a channel that once showed music videos? M-TV brings us the bold reality series where a "family" of has-beens are grouped together under one roof to see who can make the big comeback to television, while the losers are headed straight toward infomercial hell. Erik Estrada, Florence Henderson, Todd Bridges, and Soleil Moon Frye are a rich mix of fun and wisdom, proving again the old adage, "United we stand, divided we collect unemployment."
Ali McBeal
Instead of highlighting the new shows on the air, all of which should be gone by the time I finish this paragraph, I'm taking this spot to say adios to the unexpected underground hit with women 18-35 with severe emotional problems or developmental disabilities. Something about this trash-talking rail-thin female lawyer touched a nerve with the nation, and just won't quit touching it. But now, thankfully, it's about to rest in peace as the flavor of the month changes to talking babies and M-TV reality shows. Goodbye, show—I'm sure everybody who watched you will miss you.
Video Games:
FIFA World Cup Soccer (Sexbox)
Before you rush in thinking this is a great soccer game, you should be warned that "Fifa" is Scottish slang for "fairy". Accordingly, the game designers follow that spirit in making some of the goofiest, gayest-dressed soccer players this side of real soccer players. Whether you enjoy soccer or think it should be pantsed and
humiliated by real sports ought to determine what you think of this game. I'm indifferent since my Sexbox is broke and I can't play anything.
Chessmaster 5500 (PC)
From the people who brought you "Wine Taster 2002" and "Extreme Book Club" comes another venture trying to sucker the stuffed shirts and fancypantses of the world into the video game arena. Unfortunately, the game revolves not around real chess, but around trying to disguise the fact you're a champion chess player of your high school until you can get out at 3 o'clock, or else the bullies will run your underwear up a flag pole, with you in them.
And that's an Entertainment Police! No more, no less. It's a Zen kind of a thing, really,
like the sound of a stagehand getting the clap or a tree falling on James Woods. I'll let
you ponder that on into the afterlife, or at least until next month when we'll be back
like an ex-girlfriend boomerang. Until then!   |
