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22 December 2023
One is a certifiable genius. The other is Vinnie. Together, they are two of the most brilliant inventors in all of Pangaea. Wayne recognized this, and has given them a column to share with you the wonders of their progressive, modern minds.
THIS PART WAS WRITTEN BY #716
Ah, December. An entire month-- one twelfth of the year-- seemingly devoted to frenzied, ritualistic consumerism. Immediately following the clearing of the Thanksgiving table, we as a nation gather up any and all spare savings we have left and head out to our country\'s unending chain of shops, stores, and retailers. The vast horizon of temples to America\'s true god, the Almighty Dollar, spreading wide across the fruited plains and... purple... ummm....
Fuck it. I\'m trying to wax poetic or be profound or something, and all I\'m getting down is a string of trite clichés. Me and Vinnie went to the mall.
So I spent the first thirty minutes of my whirlwind shopping trip standing at the North Entrance (capitalized, like all proper nouns), waiting for my red-headed accomplice between the Build-A-Bear store and Spencer\'s Sex Shop & Electronic-Fart-Noise-Device Boutique. It was only after several glances at my watch that I realized two things: Vinnie was definitely running later than usual, and my watch had stopped. Fortunately for me, solutions to both of my problems were just a stone\'s throw up the hallway-- a rickshaw-shaped cell phone stand waited for me just outside of Watch Batteries Et Al. Since mall security frowns upon the actual hurling of rocks within the building (anything goes in the parking lot... remember that), I pocketed my emergency throwing stone and made my way to the old-timey mobile phone stand.
After purchasing a portable device with a suitably sodomizing twelve-month contract, I decided to hit up Vinnie on his two-way to see where he at. No answer; big surprise. I chuckled to myself as I mentally compared my new phone to Vinnie\'s outdated celly-- as far as I knew, his service area was limited to a thirty-foot radius surrounding his house. And for whatever reason, it never worked during a blackout. I\'d try him again later.
Time picked up speed as I made stop after stop for every line on my list: Disney Store for Fphatty Lamar, Bath & Body Works for Wayne, Babbage\'s for Staff Member #716. And yet I never did come across Mr. Baggadonuts that day, despite repeated attempts to reach him. Did he maybe misunderstand my message to meet him at the mall? That seems so uncharacteristic of this column....
THIS NEXT PART WAS WRITTEN BY VINNIE
Man, #716. I can’t get over how much malls have changed. Granted, I haven’t been to one in almost six years, but this is pretty overwhelming.
I mean, I kind of expected a little more from our nation’s capital. Like walls, for starters. What fun is a two-mile walk in the cold? It’s more like a strip mall than a shopping mall, only minus all the stores. No Gap. No Abercrombie & Fitch. No Orange Julius. Just a bunch of museums and stone monuments. How in the hell can I buy my dad a sweater from a stone monument with a marble Abe Lincoln in it? I can’t! Way to go, mall of Washington, D.C.! Your diplomacy is dick-lomacy! Your stupid business decision to replace all your stores with statues and museums means my family won’t be getting jack or shit for Christmas.
Do you want to go there and wipe the tears from my little sister’s broken-hearted eyes? Do you want to tell my little cousins that they can’t sit on Santa’s lap, because there is no Santa at your mall? That he’s been replaced by a \"Constitution\"? Are you going to let them sit on the Constitution’s lap and tell it their Christmas wishes? No. Why? Because the Constitution doesn’t fly all over the world and deliver presents to all the good little girls and boys! It can’t! It has no arms... or reindeer!
God, Washington. Your mall fucking sucks.
artid
3468
Old Image
8_4_vin716.jpg
issue
vol 8 - issue 04 (dec 2005)
section
stories