Serfdom at “Wally-World”


Wal-mart. . . . . box-store of enchantment. And number 1 employer of what you and I know as “THE RED-STATE EXPERIENCE”. Never has someone had to show such gung-ho, merry customer service for serfdom as you otherwise have employees in blue-vests singing “Zippity Do-Dah” out of their assholes, “Mousketeer” style– with a kazoo.

Maybe “working for someone else” is merely getting yourself forced along “by someone’s obsession”, be that customer service or the retail mission statement like giddy “Jim Jones” cults for customer savings. Indeed, irony has little place here and even Beetlejuice has to “get with the program”.

Cribbing a bit from the fellow Warner Bros. property, “National Lampoon’s Vacation” you had “Wally-World” standing in for Disneyland with a cartoon moose as company spokesman. The happiest place on earth– open 365 days a year. Only in the movie, the family straggled in to find the park closed for a couple of weeks for maintenance and repair. . . . .

But make no mistake, Wal-Mart is open 365 days a year.

Why not call it “Small-Mart”? Yeah right, the largest box-store of its kind that stretches several football fields in length. You’d better keep Beetlejuice supervised amid all that “moral hazard” and easy thievery.

Smile, you’re on surveillance camera! Believe me, if someone thought of it– store security has set-up countermeasures to stop “shrinkage”. Think of a poster in the break-room of a troll-toothed bulldog brandishing a hockey stick and batting away “free scores” to keep the larger “goal” of staying competitive. Rolllff!

Of course, that doesn’t stop some mischievous cretin to hacking into the intercom system and playing the sound-FX from pornographic-movies while the manager scurries-around, trying to shut-down the public address system.

All sorts of stunts back there in the stock-room. Nailing a wallet to the floor and tricking some sucker into bending-over and straining his back.

Or kicking-around empty boxes like a deranged soccer match as the electronic board side-sweeps “Work is Fun!” across the sign. Tape up a piece of cardboard with work is (F)ucked squiggled in with a marker to give it an entirely-different meaning.

They don’t even have the easy jobs anymore where a retiree sits in a wheelchair and greets customers at the wide front-doors. Instead you have receipt-checkers halting customers to prevent “more shrinkage”. Such, such are the ways of the corporate retail world.

Lower prices, happier savings. . . . . ALWAYS.


Buy American. We send prices down to hell

Serfdom at “Wally-World”

When Hell Freezes Over. . . . .

snow_storm   roach_reverse

Greetings from St. Louis. Either your little piece of “cloud-9” or your mere ice-cube lot besides the cold Midwestern heart of hell.

Yes—we’re frozen-solid down here. Which means—time for blogging!

Trapped in the house—as I can’t help but share this little item from our local alternative newspaper that describes the fickle heart in our “state of emergency”, usually called-off in the due course of things.

Read it, know it, feel it. It’s about all summed-up there.

We have the street department out in force, and Beetlejuice serves his purgatory working for the local street department in the salt trucks. There—sbadowed in the cab and taking a sip from a hip flask of whiskey in a parka—his hair tangled-up in a nimbus as the gray afternoon darkens into nightfall.

As you know, dead souls “die” in whatever smooshed death and pay their dues for the fee of reincarnation. If it wasn’t being devoured by a sandworm, he may as well be gnashed in the teeth of Satan, himself at the very bottom circle of hell—the giant devil frozen in ice who mewls at the bottom of all nightmares.

Oh, well. Instead, this is just an inner-suburb of St. Louis with the overpass, railroad trestle, and corner of bargain commerce. A gas station—a discount clothes outlet in the same expansive parking lot as the American Contacts & Eyeglasses, the DMV, and “Little Caesar’s Pizza” by a little dog-walking park and trickle of a sunken stream by the hilly, wooded houses.

He could do way worse—WAY, WAY WORSE.

The fate of the community lays with men like Beetlejuice and he’s paid well for his 12-hour shift.

No—don’t park there! Pulled across the street from the pool-hall as a prostitute opens the door and climbs in the cab.

Just a slow day—as hell freezes over. Dead season—and cause to stay indoors.

Beetlejuice knocks his gloves together and lights a cigarette under the halo of the streetlight. Just a barnacle on the underbelly of civic business. The night is his home and soon he’ll be alone again with his festering thoughts.


And so long as you’re snuggled in. . . . . . we present you a teaser for the Beetlejuice 2 script BEFORE HELL FREEZES OVER. Pass it out far & wide like the billowing snowflakes across the region. And enjoy it as the dark necromancy of “he-who-cannot-be-named” leans against the tombstone with his ankles crossed. KILLING TIME.

Click on this link here. . . . .


hooverville  raccoon

When Hell Freezes Over. . . . .

Rock & Roll Star

lydia_contour   puke

Rock & Roll Star

Modern Commercial Folklore

meetmrproduct   noni_christmas

If we not otherwise told fairy tales around the knee of our mother or taking part in a local village festival, homegrown culture is a rich, organic thing.

However, things really took off with the advent of modern advertising. The creation of brands and logos—and mascots—that all told a back-story or legend about a product.

Say, you see “The Quaker Oats Man” made popular by the illustration you know what that immediately connotes—or even if you see Ronald McDonald everyone knows that stands for “a good time, great taste” AT MCDONALD’S.

Like “the pure essence” of an idea—how just a symbol conjures up a vast world of associations. This stuff borders on “casting magic spells”,

if you think about it. Dr. Pepper is “weaker” compared to the full-borne majesty of Coca-Cola as power comes in billboards and sponsorships.

A franchise is not just a product—but a monopoly on AN IDEA where people ward off each other with word-games and idea-projections like summoning the very spirit of an idea and impressing each other. Much of this involves the subconscious or deep brain-structures many are barely aware of—as you might as well be casting demons inside a mental soul-space of extreme projection.

It all lives up in our heads—and some take it a step further.

You have Lydia Deetz, who I envision as “a witch in her own right” with a fascination for design and imagery. Or changing the world—one copy-machine at a time. She’s a little trickster adept at word-games and inverting the order of pictures to tell a larger, subversive story. Some people blindly follow and may never pick-up the difference while her young brain hyper-fires on all cylinders like Harry Houdini willing his way out of “a question-box”.

Punk culture exists to be obnoxious and explore the possibilities of working inside your bleak, ordinary environment. It’s why people put out their own “homebrew” fanzines and web-logs, mostly to keep themselves entertained.

For it’s “Lydia’s Trunk of the Strange & Unusual” like the most sordid, uncanny collection of relics and old throw-aways as she casts back a hand to her forehead, there in her shapeless rags and presumes to amuse, enlighten—if not entertain in the pale blue moonlight of her gothic affliction and tribe of motley friends.

Television and advertising becomes the shared culture, like old Saturday morning t.v. recorded on video-tape. Such a silly-string explosion of disposable whimsy as it beomes an item of midnight cult-recital to sing these jingles and repeat those catch-phrases.

For what is life but shared appreciation? FOR TELEVISION-HELL.

And how all those ideas and brands and mascots exist in their own “spirit-world”. You wonder about the netherworld of ghosts and restless, departed spirits maybe only one cemetery over in the bone-yard of ideas. Ready to spring loose—as Beetlejuice will hit the biggest vein of product-placement paydirt ever.

As they say—it’s hard to be original—and what are ideas but standing on the shoulders of giants and stamped with a copyright symbol? Lydia asks about “fair use” in collage and montage as there’s a whole argument around “copyrights” and “copywrongs”.

But if you write-it-in, in a flattering way—maybe you can get some kick-back’s from some branded sponsors. Slyly, the whole movie would be a running commercial poking fun at itself in a clever way like a long-form joke. . . . . better than the bare 30 seconds most commercials last to establish a premise, a problem, AND A SOLUTION.

So yes, creativity and commerce can mix. I wouldn’t even call it “A SELL-OUT” except we sold out of movie tickets for an audience paying to laugh at itself and the commercials it watches—all while selling a story and advancing BEETLEJUICE.

Very “Meta” or even “metaphysical” but we’ll take it.

Wouldn’t you?

enjoy_capitalism  lydia_toothesome

bat_bat_ruleth  wpid-wp-1444570636018.jpeg

Modern Commercial Folklore

Halloween Birthday Omen

Winona Ryder was born on this day, two days before Halloween in 1971.

What a tribute, more fitting– than her cameo appearance in the wacky, rockabilly video that ended up getting banned on MTV. . . . . None other than “Debbie Gibson is Pregnant with my Two-Headed Love-Child” which is about the kookiest thing you’d ever seen.

There, with mischievous energy like a Romanian punk princess in fairy tales “funking-out” in a wedding dress and a Spuds McKenzie look-alike, the dog from Budweiser commercials. Mojo Nixon, The Dead Milk Men, Tom Waits, and The Replacements are some of her favorite acts as it speaks to alt/indie cred like cerebral noshing on guitar riffage and authenticity.

Two-headed, like a sequel. . . . . . a labor of “love”, right?

To her unconventional graces, we salute her birthday. She turns 44 is was always “a big kid, at heart”. She’ll return in “Beetlejuice 2”, surely as folks live their alternative death-rock lifestyles well into later years. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

A link– to the essential core of her movies, best known. . . . .

winona_arms_crossed   wpid-wp-1444570645969.jpeg

Halloween Birthday Omen

Halloween Make-up Tips

When you wish upon a star. . . . .

Halloween Make-up Tips