new world shopping

I dread going into town, leaving the safety of my paints and the animals, braving the hairpin turns still patched with ice from last weekend's freak snowstorm. The only reason that I make the trek is almost always for my Guinea Pig's needs. Everyone else makes do as I do or fends for themselves. The way I see it is the Guinea Pigs are trapped in a cute little world imitating nature that isn't natural to that which their bodies, responses and abilities are designed because imperialist invaders denied them freedom on the Andes Plains by taking many of them as booty back to their home countries where they were overbred and bloated into exotic trophy pets. Compared to us, my Guinea Pigs have it pretty good.

My first stop then was the feed store where they are down to one employee and no longer order our needs in bulk. They had nothing I wanted. The employee remarked that this town's two other feed stores closed their doors this month. I went across the road to the ridiculous pet supply specializing in various pet fashions and melamine tainted treats to find not only do they not carry hay anymore for the live, tightly caged rodentia on sale there, they refused to exchange, credit or refund a faulty dog collar I'd purchased only a week ago. Hmmm, I thought, tough times indeed.

Continuing on, I passed up the surcharges at the convenience postal store and headed to the real post office. It wasn't the latest ruling on sealing tape or the new fees that got me, it was the mood in the parking lot, no one bothers to look behind them when they back out of a spot anymore. Its a sort of thuggish "get out of my way" driving style en masse that could cost you heavily if you know what I mean.

Next was the big metal box store, a bizarre job lot of mixed merchandise such as high-end toaster cozies and off-brand electronic toys that they like to shove out into the sticks. I was looking for parsley seeds to grow my own for the Guinea Pigs. Why they wanted my email address to make a 79 cent cash purchase is unknown to me. I declined which would have turned into a lengthy discussion leading nowhere with the hypnotized cashier except my horoscope that morning advised me to remain cool for the day. It appeared to work. Yes, I felt sorry for her, nothing else to do, the entire cavernous space devoid of consumers, no doubt she's got deeper concerns.

Outside the window wall was a person in a turquoise satin Statue of Liberty costume looking like the wired-up, bad apple victims, waving around a huge "hot pizza cheap" sign to no one, no one at all.

OK, last stop was the food megaplex. I don't need to tell you what has happened to the prices in the span of one week. I will merely remark on the sudden disappearance of cashiers causing thirty or forty carts to jam up at the three attended registers. What happened to Customer Convenience? What happened to the music? I used to stroll down these very aisles label-reading to the muffled mellow strains of Human Touch. And where are those TVs at the register lines that used to soothe the savages with Harriet Nelson instructions on preparation of processed meals for your busy loved ones? Did you know that the magazine covers are now featuring photo lineups of the "stars" with headliners Guess Who's Pregnant? I must not be the general public, I thought, UFOs were more interesting...

The roads are growing weeds in the pavement. Massive construction projects abandoned. No endearing scenes of grazing cattle because the ranchers went broke and redistributed their pastures. Lands sit fallow at the height of planting season. Skeletons of almond trees tremble in the breeze.

We are now less than pet Guinea Pigs trapped in a faux reality. We will continue to deteriorate until the situation is addressed with truth and dealt with realistically. It is simply not possible to return to that which was impossible to sustain. Its over. Gone. Done. Even if the truth is shouted from the headlines of every media outlet, the People have lost trust. What comes next is going to be the real proof of the American character. Will we wimp out in dungeons? Try to make do borrowing soap in tent cities? Walk the back roads of what once was, all alone in the dark looking to nest for a night or three? I've got that old feeling you're leaving ...