Normally, I stay away from the political stuff. I prefer to keep my writing persona as nonpolitical as possible. It’s what my readers expect, and I try to respect that…. but sometimes speaking out is necessary. Sometimes you have to make a choice. Do you sit quietly while others fight your fights for you, or do you have a responsibility to make a stand? To the folks who read my stuff for the laughs, I apologize for the serious tone of this blog, but something happened yesterday that convinced me today is my day to speak out about something very important to me…
I think it should be illegal for celebrities to wear disguises and work as cashiers in small towns.
Yeah, I said it.
I know that’s not a popular opinion among Americans. I accept that. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Facebook post demanding we make it illegal for celebrities to go undercover as small town cashiers.
I find it staggering that nobody cares about this issue.
When my Betty White experience happened (you can read about it here), I thought it was an anomaly. I thought it was just Betty White being evil.
Well, yesterday I discovered it’s not just Betty White.
There are others.
My wife and I were at the store, picking up groceries. We got what we needed and stepped in the shortest line to check out.
From our vantage point, the cashier appeared to be a friendly older woman.
As people continued to check out, we worked our way closer.
That’s when I saw who “she” was.
I leaned toward my wife and whispered, “You see who that is, right?”
“Brandon, stop,” my wife said. “Whatever you’re thinking… whatever you’re about to say… just let it go. Let’s just check out, go home, and have dinner.”
“It’s Michael Moore in drag!”
Michael frickin’ Moore was running that register.
Yeah. That Michael Moore. The activist guy who makes all those movies and likes to scream at people on the news.
He was wearing women’s clothes and had on a wig, but it was obviously Michael Moore.
Just to give you an idea of what we were seeing, I’ve done a detailed drawing:
So yeah. Totally Michael Moore.
“What’s he doing here!?” I whispered.
“He’s not here,” my wife groaned. “That nice lady is just trying to get through a work day. Leave her alone, Bran.”
“I bet he’s doing some kind of documentary…”
“Please stop. She’ll hear you.”
“He,” I corrected. “I’m telling you, that’s Michael Moore! He did that one documentary about eating fast food for a month. I bet he’s doing something like that about groceries!”
“That was Morgan Spurlock, not Michael Moore,” my wife said.
“Ah-ha!” I said. “So you admit, this is Michael Moore.”
My wife stared at me for a moment, then said, “How did you get that from what I said? Really. I’d like to know how.”
“He who is silent,” I explained, “is understood to consent. Socrates said that.”
“When he said it,” my wife whispered, “it probably fit the conversation. You can’t just throw out random Socrates quotes and pretend they prove your point.”
“I think I just proved you wrong on that one,” I said triumphantly.
We finally got to the counter and Mr. Moore rang up our groceries. It was during the bagging phase that something very significant happened.
There were no baggers there, so Mr. Moore bagged our groceries. He placed one of the bags in the top part of our grocery cart and said, “This one has your bread. Be careful, so it doesn’t get crushed.”
I stared at him, dumbfounded.
I want you to stop and think about what he said.
“This one has your bread.”
Clearly, by “this one” he meant the grocery store. And we all know “bread” is just another word for “money.”
And “get crushed”?
Yeah. I’m sure you understand where I’m going with this.
Michael Moore is obviously doing a documentary in my hometown about how large grocery store chains are devastating (crushing) local economies.
This infuriated me.
I leaned toward Mr. Moore and said, “We have a peaceful town here. We don’t need this controversy.”
He just looked confused. I admit, he’s very good at acting like an innocent cashier.
Behind me, my wife groaned.
Nothing more was said. We took our groceries and went home. I fixed grilled cheese sandwiches.
But I’ve been worried ever since. I’m waiting for the news to break that he’s done a documentary about my town.
The reporters will come and interview our people. The locals will be upset about how it misrepresented us. They’ll probably change the name of our town to Mooretown or something. And there’s nothing we can do about it.
Not a damn thing.
My town is lost. It’s just a matter of time before “Crushed Bread” or whatever it’s called hits theaters. Then it’s media circus time in my hometown.
But it’s not too late for your town. You can stop this from happening again.
We must put forth legislation that makes it illegal for celebrities to disguise themselves as grocery store cashiers.
It’s the only way to stop this. But we have to work together. One man can’t push through change of this magnitude.
So think about it.
Thanks for your time.
Next time, I’ll get back to the silly stuff. I just felt morally obligated to speak my mind about this.
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