I'm tired and I'm sick, so I'm not going to write a novella today. Instead I'll leave you to ponder this thought.
Who goes out in public in matching mother-daughter outfits of cut-up-to-here ragged cut-off blue jean shorts and Confederate flag tie-dyed T-shirts that say - in very prominent letters - REBEL B*TCH - right across the stomach? And yes, it was the full word for a female dog - in letters two inches high.
When did American taste go right past the gutter and take the first handbasket on the expressway bound for hell?
And it wasn't like these two were going to be a catch for any man. The mother looked like a body double for that old woman in "There's Something About Mary" -- but with more wrinkles and fewer special effects. Think crocodile after ten years of an African drought. The daughter was an elephant trying to fool everyone into thinking she was a gazelle. Muffin top, thou art no woman's friend.
I'm all for freedom of expression, but I'm still just not quite sure of the taste level there. But hey, it's just the Wal-Mart.
What were they returning you ask? A car sun visor - too small for their Ford F150.