Well, you win America. I'm going on a diet.
It's not that I'm happy being overweight. I'm quite unhappy about the way I look. I hate that I get winded when I have to run up and down the stairs for various reasons. The pain in my back, feet and knees tells me that something needs to change, and quickly. I also know that my weight issues can contibute to Diabetes, high blood pressure, and heart attacks, and having two young children, I would like to be around for a while to see them finish growing up, and to not force them to continue that growing without a father. But make no mistake, America, you have made this more of a necessity than previously thought.
For instance, there is a bigotry inherent in this country, propagated by the beautiful people. Every few months, news programs run stories on how fat Americans are getting, showing heavy people in a terrible light. The subjects of these stories are filmed in ill-fitting clothing, eating food deemed "bad", and shown from angles that are less than flattering. These "news" pieces are on par with the films of Leni Riefenstahl, making fat people seem like a blight upon society. And constantly in these pieces, reporters love to get nutritionists and health nuts to give the latest statistics about how many more fat folks there are than there have ever been.
The irony of that is the fact that retail stores refuse to carry clothes for people my size. The major department stores seem to think that everyone falls within a very small range of sizes, and if the clothes don't fit, tough luck. Some still have a Plus Size section, but all too often the fashionable clothing for the skinny folks is conspicuously missing, replaced by button-down shirts with bad patterns, jeans that went out of fashion in the late seventies, and polo shirts in colors that I wouldn't be caught dead in. As my mother used to complain that clothes makers believed that all heavy women wore muumuus, I find that those same clothiers honestly believe that all heavy men want to dress like the participants of a seniors' golf outing.
Now, they can get around this by claiming that there are plenty of big and tall stores out there for us to go to for clothes, and with the advent of online retailers, there should be no issue. However, where I work, I have to wear a white, button-down dress shirt. Such a shirt is easy to find, unless you're a big fellow like myself. And for me to go to a big and tall store means paying more money than I have just to get clothes for work. Unfair as it may be to me, the retailers get what they want: Fewer fatties in their stores making them unattractive to their target shoppers.
I would call for a boycott of those stores, but I realize several things. First is that fact that there are too many items I need to go to those stores for. Second is the fact that a boycott really, in the end, does no good. Sure, if a real movement could be formed, then it might bring attention to the issue. However, they still have the upper hand, because free enterprise allows them to distribute only that which they want to sell. And they know that we'll be back at some point, because we rely upon them.
Of course, there are the reality shows to point out just how much happier we would all be if we were like everyone else. Whether it's something as simple as a makeover show or a competition where contestants see how much more weight they can lose, the experts hammer it into these poor fools' minds that they should change how they are. Yes, there are health benefits, but those health benefits are merely added to make the people behind these shows seem more benevolent. Deep down, they just want everyone to join with them a be a member of their race. Sign up and live longer, healthier...and more attractive to the general population.
So this is it, America. I give up! I'll play your little game. Better eating and exercise, so that I might finally join your exclusive club.
But touch my liquor, and we'll have words.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Walmart, the Internet, and the End of Life as I Knew It
Growing up, I was a bit of a mallrat. For a kid from a small town, the mall was like a city unto itself. If you needed, wanted or lusted after it, it was at the mall. I would spend hours in those glorious temples of the almighty dollar sign, going from store to store in search of that one item that neither I nor anyone else had. I would haunt the aisles of book stores searching through sections that interested me. I scoured racks of albums for hard to find or import albums, or find those bands that I had never heard of. And then there were the video stores, where I could find the movies that were off the beaten trail – b-movies, foreign films, cult horror, all treasures for me to find.
And the most magical part of these stores was one simple thing: The Human Element. While it was pretty common to find the clerks in these stores to be nothing more than a high school kid who would rather ignore you that help you, there were those employees that went out of their way to help you, and had quite the working knowledge of whatever their store sold, be it movies, music, books, or anything else your heart desired. And on a really good day, you could spend hours in a shop talking with like-minded customers who could point you in the direction of new, uncharted ground when it came to underground music, little-known books, or movies that no one else in a three county radius had ever heard of. I could often be found picking up tapes or CDs of bands I had never heard of just on the recommendation of someone else who was of the same mindset as I was, or stocking my bookshelves with new tomes that were sure to appeal to my sensibilities. And I myself was often able to give suggestions to others who might be in need of a little help in finding those hidden gems.
But in the 1990s, Walmart decided that they wanted to be the number one retailer in the world, which meant selling products at a much cheaper rate than specialty stores could. However, the caveat was that you had to accept the products on their terms. Albums were edited for general consumption, so as to not offend the fainted hearted, and the variety of albums was seriously lacking. And their book and video sections only carried titles that were guaranteed to sell, and were again selected for the average shopper, who may file a lawsuit if they were forced to walk past something that may be offensive. While most shoppers went along with it for the convenience of “one-stop shopping”, there were still those of us that were willing to go out of our way for more obscure and unabridged pleasures. We could still go to those stores that catered to our needs.
Alas, the Internet saw to it that those needs could be filled without ever leaving home. Amazon.com rose to become a behemoth in the world of retail, and had everything you could get at those specialty shops and more. Eventually Walmart got in on the act, and now you can order anything you would normally go to the store for hand have it shipped to your house. Then there was Napster and the file sharing craze, which killed so many brick and mortar shops. Now, you can download a new book, album or movie to your iPad, phone or any other electronic device, and never have to deal with those smelly people again. You can make your own playlist of songs picked from any assortment of artists, read your “book”, text your bffs, and enjoy your worry-free day without pesky clerks or annoying customers getting in your way. Really, who wants to have a conversation with complete strangers about any of that anyway?
Well, dammit, I do! I want to have the option of going into a record shop and having long, drawn out conversations about music, or sit in a book store and have deep discussions about the writings of authors I love, or to have someone personally recommend something for me to read. I want to go into a video shop and have the guy behind the counter point me in the direction of a movie that I might not have otherwise seen, because he knows what I dig, and can relate. Instead, I can go to any website and have automated recommendations, or those annoying “Shoppers who purchased this item also purchased…” lists. Sure, they get it right some of the time, but all you get is a title, and then some customer reviews, most of which read as though they’re written by an elementary student who hasn’t had his Ritalin. There’s no warmth in those recommendations, no love for the product. When I sit and talk movies or music or books with someone, I can gauge their reaction, and I can see the excitement when they talk about a movie or album they really loved and want me to check out. That human experience has been replaced, and we’re a sorrier world for it. As it stands, the only real bastion of community left is the comic book shop, where I have been known to spend hours talking comics, comic book movies, cult movies and television, and might only spend a few bucks on one book. But it’s that conversation that makes the experience worthwhile. True, the big comic companies have always had those who would rather subscribe and have their issues sent to their homes, and now with the dawn of the digital comic, you can download those just as easily as you could the works of Lovecraft or the latest Megadeth album. But I’m not ready to give up that last sanctuary I have left, where anyone can go in, physically pick up a book, and have the guy behind the counter say “If you like this, check this title out”. Because I’m not sure I’m ready to give up all of my humanity just yet.
And the most magical part of these stores was one simple thing: The Human Element. While it was pretty common to find the clerks in these stores to be nothing more than a high school kid who would rather ignore you that help you, there were those employees that went out of their way to help you, and had quite the working knowledge of whatever their store sold, be it movies, music, books, or anything else your heart desired. And on a really good day, you could spend hours in a shop talking with like-minded customers who could point you in the direction of new, uncharted ground when it came to underground music, little-known books, or movies that no one else in a three county radius had ever heard of. I could often be found picking up tapes or CDs of bands I had never heard of just on the recommendation of someone else who was of the same mindset as I was, or stocking my bookshelves with new tomes that were sure to appeal to my sensibilities. And I myself was often able to give suggestions to others who might be in need of a little help in finding those hidden gems.
But in the 1990s, Walmart decided that they wanted to be the number one retailer in the world, which meant selling products at a much cheaper rate than specialty stores could. However, the caveat was that you had to accept the products on their terms. Albums were edited for general consumption, so as to not offend the fainted hearted, and the variety of albums was seriously lacking. And their book and video sections only carried titles that were guaranteed to sell, and were again selected for the average shopper, who may file a lawsuit if they were forced to walk past something that may be offensive. While most shoppers went along with it for the convenience of “one-stop shopping”, there were still those of us that were willing to go out of our way for more obscure and unabridged pleasures. We could still go to those stores that catered to our needs.
Alas, the Internet saw to it that those needs could be filled without ever leaving home. Amazon.com rose to become a behemoth in the world of retail, and had everything you could get at those specialty shops and more. Eventually Walmart got in on the act, and now you can order anything you would normally go to the store for hand have it shipped to your house. Then there was Napster and the file sharing craze, which killed so many brick and mortar shops. Now, you can download a new book, album or movie to your iPad, phone or any other electronic device, and never have to deal with those smelly people again. You can make your own playlist of songs picked from any assortment of artists, read your “book”, text your bffs, and enjoy your worry-free day without pesky clerks or annoying customers getting in your way. Really, who wants to have a conversation with complete strangers about any of that anyway?
Well, dammit, I do! I want to have the option of going into a record shop and having long, drawn out conversations about music, or sit in a book store and have deep discussions about the writings of authors I love, or to have someone personally recommend something for me to read. I want to go into a video shop and have the guy behind the counter point me in the direction of a movie that I might not have otherwise seen, because he knows what I dig, and can relate. Instead, I can go to any website and have automated recommendations, or those annoying “Shoppers who purchased this item also purchased…” lists. Sure, they get it right some of the time, but all you get is a title, and then some customer reviews, most of which read as though they’re written by an elementary student who hasn’t had his Ritalin. There’s no warmth in those recommendations, no love for the product. When I sit and talk movies or music or books with someone, I can gauge their reaction, and I can see the excitement when they talk about a movie or album they really loved and want me to check out. That human experience has been replaced, and we’re a sorrier world for it. As it stands, the only real bastion of community left is the comic book shop, where I have been known to spend hours talking comics, comic book movies, cult movies and television, and might only spend a few bucks on one book. But it’s that conversation that makes the experience worthwhile. True, the big comic companies have always had those who would rather subscribe and have their issues sent to their homes, and now with the dawn of the digital comic, you can download those just as easily as you could the works of Lovecraft or the latest Megadeth album. But I’m not ready to give up that last sanctuary I have left, where anyone can go in, physically pick up a book, and have the guy behind the counter say “If you like this, check this title out”. Because I’m not sure I’m ready to give up all of my humanity just yet.
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