I feel like I just read a Dr. Bronner’s soap bottle label.

[Ah yes, a solid B+ troll, using the “are you all right” trope to get a rise out of me. The following would be my “rise.”]

Oh for cripes sake, can you not see I was leaning into your trolling mindset with my first bit?!! Keep fuckin moving the goalpost, y’all are good at that.

[Yes, I clearly suspended my disbelief in trying to see what exactly is legitimate under all of what you’ve said so far. It’s a fascinating occupation you’ve taken on, Professional Troll of Dubious Intent (PTODI), but if even if you actually don’t harbor these shitty thoughts against people, you are literally, actually right this moment making the entire platform of discourse shittier. I guess I should step outside my human brain and understand that some purported humans just want to watch the world burn. Sigh… Fuckin PTODIs.]

Aaaaand now I wonder if you (and your friend) are experiencing a wicked case of DID. Please consult your totally real psychologist on that for more info on how to reign in your diverging personalities. (Wouldn’t wanna have to get your lawyer involved, you know, like if your online troll personality state starts wreaking legal havoc in real life. Who would be to blame? You?! Or you?!!?!)

Serious question. And making the forgiving assumption your “friend” wasn’t just a cover story. This troll business you opened up here, do you you actually believe and stand behind what you profess?

It took me all of 90 seconds to read through your comment history and confirm you are in some kind of pain, the kind that breeds misplaced anger at the lack of stability in your own identity.

You did, however, ponder one valuable bit of insight at the end of your recent AITA post (15 days ago) regarding your wife quitting her job and her not listening to you. Please follow your instinct here. Please do be open to your wife about going your separate ways.

Real talk, she will be better off without you. You act as if she’s holding you back, all the while it sounds like she’s been holding you up. It seems you are the one holding both of you back, and projecting this financial and identity instability onto others is illustrative of your own issues.

You don’t seem like a legitimate troll. You seem like you’re fighting for your own identity and you’re projecting your frustrations by asserting other people are deluded in knowing who they are and somehow insane for wanting a modicum of human respect. Yet I think you and many, many others like you, are those truly struggling.

I think you are currently showing a lack of respect to others because, deep down, you don’t respect yourself. And that is not okay. Needing and seeking help and direction from others, including mental health professionals, is not a blue-haired liberal thing, it’s a human thing. Please consider it.

When you said “check for [spy] bugs,” I first thought you meant literal insecty bugs, and that made plenty of rational sense to me, because who wouldn’t come back with even more potent insecticide to douse those couches, maybe some Super-Potent Fabric-Penetrable Bug Annihilator, one formulated for Previously Penetrated Couches, in order to kill the very particular kinds of creepy crawly bugs that JD seems like he carries around on his creepy crawly body.

You know, I’ve been thinking … There’s gotta be another layer of complexity in all that projection vectored through his hating on “childless cat ladies” nonsense, other than the obvious “I’m scared of happily independent women” business.

Fleas. I’m thinking he has fleas. JD Vance has fleas. You know, because something, something, cats.

Bed bugs would also make sense. Him fucking furniture and all. Bed bugs are, after all, the herpes of the craft couch-coitus world.

Noooo!! You’ve managed to both unlock a core memory about some unnameable PBS show featuring clock-loving clown ladies AND INSTANTLY RUIN IT!!!

wot in the nation of tarn

Alright, so I quite literally haven’t stepped foot into Walmart since June of 2015. The only money I’ve given them since was for two grocery pick-ups during early COVID when it was in a 5% cashback category on my CC. I have no idea of what changes have been made in the physical stores since then, and this sounds … Horrifying. What happens if the price changes before you check out? I would feel duped. Are they going to make you “check in” when you enter so they can give you the price at time of entry? Or are you SOL if you don’t make it to the cash register in time? And wouldn’t that extra rush to get out make them lose money on stuff you pick up wandering around? Or maybe they want you in and out as fast as possible. What a clusterfuck.

I do love telling people about my Walmart-less living when it suits the conversation, and 90% of the time they are shocked, absolutely flabbergasted. “How can you do that?! Where do you get all of your stuff?!?” Well, like many middling American cities home to at least 20,000 people, there is a Target, Walgreens, a regional grocery store, Maurices, and for some reason like 12 auto parts stores right down the street. I can’t recall anything in Walmart, aside from exclusive clothing brands (if you can call them that), that I haven’t found elsewhere in at least some quantity-per-package. I get that people want a one-and-done shopping experience, but besides my routine Aldi stops, I don’t shop that much anymore, even online.

My reasons? I would like to say that I am boycotting them for paying shit wages, being viciously anti-union, and all the other ethical shortcomings that never seem to improve. And that definitely is a part of it. But the main reason, the one setting me on my path toward Walmart Recovery (I should start up a Wal-Anon) was from the experience I had the night I needed to buy a broom, my last night or day in that store.

It was somewhere between 11 and 1 am (definitely after 11) and I had just moved house into a… House. (I was in an apartment previously.) The place needed a serious cleaning, and I simply did not have the correct broom for the job. Picked out the broom and a few other cleaning things, all was well. But shortly before checking out, a group of rowdy youngsters in their late teens sidled by me, laughing about something while also eyeballing my cart with the broom and other boring household accoutrements. I was but 23. I guess I hadn’t shaken the adolescent anxiety of feeling judged about appearances and actions at that point, but the thought that these slightly younger peers were making fun of my broom shopping was too much to bear.

“Oh my gawd, who buys a broom on a Friday night?? Get a life, ya loser.”

“I did. I did get a life! I’m moving on up, bitches! I went from a 500 sqft apartment to an 800 sqft house with fuckin windows on all sides! I can put plants in every room, every nook and tiny-ass cranny! And I can bring my cat! And if that damn house of mine needs a broom at midnight, then my gods, I am going to go out and fucking GET ONE.”

Anyway, that’s my story about how I broke up with Walmart. DM me for requests to join Wal-Anon, we have plenty of seats for everybody! (The room will be free of any and all Mainstays furnishings and the coffee will be served sans Great Value cups, I assure you.)