I recently found an anti-Walmart piece by an author I respect, for publication in my zine. In fairness, ideally, I’d like to put in a pro-Walmart or rebuttal piece (Walmart is a big deal here on the Harbor). So yesterday I’m telling my parents about my desire to find someone to write an article I could put side-by-side in the publication.
“You know…” I say, “Someone who can tell me some positives or a piece by a Walmart supporter.”
“Problem is, they don’t know how to read or write,” my dad snorts.*
“Oh come on,” I roll my eyes, annoyed with the put-down and wanting real conversation.
“Gap-toothed hicks…” he’s continuing on, mostly to himself.**
“Um,” I say, “As opposed to your gaps, and all the metal, and the pieces coming out like a messed-up drawer of silverware?”
He draws himself up with dignity: “A missing tooth isn’t a gap,” he imparts, offended. ***
* I hope the fact he’s currently dying from cancer alleviates some of my readers’ annoyance at his asinine, snide nature.
** No really. I am so sorry. He’s terrible.
*** My father did indeed stop being a jerk and come up with the idea to publish a call for a rebuttal or feedback, in case I don’t find someone to pen the pro-W piece this time around.