Just Pondering

My friend Gary drives a truck for a living. Once or twice a week I get a call from him on the road and the conversation starts like this. "Hey, I've been pondering and...." and then he'll go into some subject like TV antennas or gas mileage or frog farming (yeah, once he pondered about frog farming) and it's always an interesting conversation. Sometimes it's pretty weird, but that's cool.

Anyway Sal and I were in Sam's Club yesterday and I got to pondering myself. Now looking around in the store you can see folks that obviously are running a business and are there buying food supplies or cleaning supplies, etc. You can tell by looking at their cart... and I'm a genius and stuff, so I can surmise this without much brain strangulation. But the rest of these people, like Sal and I... we're just wandering around buying huge quantities of merchandise and food that we normally wouldn't buy because.... because why?

I don't know.

I pondered upon the fact that we came home with something like 73 pounds of butter, a double tube package of Preparation H (seriously...wtf?) 5 pounds of grapes, a package of AA batteries so humongous Sally had to get me to put it in the cart, and a 75 pound bag of dog food for our 2, 12 pound cockapoos.

I don't know.

I pondered on the man wandering around the store in the too short cutoff jeans. Looked to be about 70, knee brace, cane, full beard, dirty cap that just said "RETIRED"... followed by his wife pushing the cart with nothing in it but 4 ginormous bottles of cheap whiskey. I told Sally I just found D.B. Cooper and it looks like he's hit hard times. And then I pondered on why he was here. In Sam's Club. Buying whiskey.

I don't know.

I watched the Asian man going to the checkout with nothing else in his cart except prepackaged blueberry bran muffins. About 15 packages of 25. I pondered why a man would need that many blueberry bran muffins, or ANY kind of muffins in that quantity. Was he feeding a bunch of kids with sympathetic constipation problems? Was he hoarding them for some unknown blueberry bran muffin famine that I was oblivious to? Why?

I don't know.

I pondered, as we walked out of the store... what if the old guy that counts the crap in your basket and then makes the pink mark on your receipt... what if he doesn't like what he sees? Would he radio in for support? Would he blow a whistle? Would I make a break for it? Would there be handcuffs involved. What happens if all that looking around at my stuff in my basket and pink marker business didn't coincide with what the old guy is pondering. I'm just guessing you'd go to jail. And that right there is most likely reason enough to carry a gun when you're shopping in Sam's Club.

I might be wrong on that one. I don't know...

And while I'm pondering (this has nothing to do with Sam's Club) where the hell did the term "Royal Dipshit" come from? Sentence form: "Good grief... that guy is a royal dipshit."

I may need my friend iNDefatigable mjenks to help me out with this one. Jenks is a genius with Latin and it's obvious to me (and should be to you as well. :-) ) that royal dipshit has Latin roots.

I don't know.











.