Pick Your Poison

Nations, just as the men who comprise them, eventually perish. Although, there’s a distinction in how their mortal conclusions can be reached. While a man may achieve dignity in the manner of his demise, nations always succumb in ignominy.

This principle offers little comfort to an American who notices things and speculates to himself about their future implications. Here are three establishments I’ll admit to patronizing in my hometown: Walmart, The ABC Store and Popeye’s Chicken. Which one would you reckon provides the most pleasant experience?

My Walmart is a bizarre horror show, even on a hot summer day when one would expect the searing sunlight to disinfect the parking lot of miscreants. Inside the box, it’s not unusual to get panhandled by a colored gentleman carrying one of those roast chickens: “Scuse me, suh, you got some change?” A few months ago, I was there to buy prune juice and a DVD player for an elderly family member when one of them inquired if I was Jesus. This was probably because I was wearing a polo shirt and a scowl.

The ABC store is Virginia’s state-owned entity peddling Satan’s firewater. This is the most acceptable venue by a long and lonesome mile. The clerk always wears an expression of disinterest and all the shoppers are gently resigned to their fate as they silently peruse a wide selection of flavored liquors, which I used to assume where exclusively for homosexuals. Perhaps the knowledge that they’re about to go home and self-medicate or commit domestic violence imparts a sense of complacency. It’s an in-out business transaction. Fine with me, I harbor no expectations of Mayberry.

Popeye’s, I’ve learned to avoid along with most other quick-slop establishments. There’s a unique volatility to these places that makes the experience rather unpredictable. For instance, an order can be made contrary to the desired specifications. Or, it can just take too damn long. This period of time is often defined by the short fuse of the customer, who could be featured on the left side of an Ascent of Man poster. Across the counter, the workers often maintain a similar incapacity for civility and restraint. Seven dollars’ worth of swill can quickly spiral into violence under such tenuous circumstances.

The recent furor over the relaunch of Popeye’s spicy chicken sandwich reminds me of why I’ve never even considered a foray to purchase this sandwich, tempting as it does appear. It’s not that I’m worried about getting stabbed or pummeled in the drive-through. The issue for me is that I can’t stop wondering that if this sandwich is sufficient to provoke appalling anti-social behavior from people, what would happen if there’s no sandwich? I’ll avoid graphic speculation, but my surmise is that we wouldn’t exactly be pulling together as a community based on our shared genetics, culture, and Christian compassion.

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