Previously on Genial Black Man Goes to Spencer’s Gifts:
Good lord, I wish I knew. I wish I knew what was in that needle.
Oh: someone that would buy this. (For LAFFS?)
What would become of a human race that shows their humor in crass plastic toys and their aggression in poorly-worded clothing? And will I be able to reclaim my sanity?
I found myself at Arizona Mills mall in Tempe, AZ, disheveled and confused. It had been nearly 2 years since I remembered my faculties, the reasons for my breakdown unknown. I stumbled past kiosks of cellphones, crude merchandise and bad decisions before the sight of a faux-graffiti sign triggered feelings of fear in me. I had known this feeling before.
I had to know why I dreaded the sight of this store, what with its loud imagery and shifty characters populating its insides. I tentatively stepped inside of its boorish walls. And it all came flooding back. ALL THE ANGER.
Knowing that people either still bought Ted merchandise or that this store thought this was 2012 further befuddled me as to the current date. The overuse of profanity and pro-drug use messages seemed so weird for what looked like a cuddly teddy bear. Must be aimed at immature boors, I thought.
Aside from the fact that this was aimed at women with alcohol problems, what would it say about the person that smuggled it in a plastic container shaped like a tampon instead of a flask or miniature bottle like a civilized drunk?
The use of clothing to advertise your misogyny, while not a new concept, seemed poorly thought out when on a out-of-fashion trucker cap hoping for what–one promiscuous woman?
What do these so-called “bitches” smell like? I mused. And where would the t-shirt wearer be that the air would be fragrant with “bitches”?
Would this apply when looking in the mirror? I thought aloud. Good thing no one was around to hear my ramblings.
While the appreciation for either water guns or women with unique glandular abilities is admirable, advertising the fact on a t-shirt seemed a bit odd. Where would this come up in conversation? I wondered.
Well THIS just seemed racist.
While some merchandise trafficked in the less seemly qualities of the human condition, others were dated regarding their references.
And many looked to appeal to early teenagers with brain deficiencies.
And then I saw something. Something that made me realize that this place needed to burn.
This seemingly adult man brought his preteen son to this store? WHY? To share in the barnyard humor of the clothing and wearable filth? To advocate the degradation of women and minorities? To teach him where to stock his dorm room in marijuana merch in 10 years?
I found myself twitching, my eyes unable to focus, my hands shaking with rage. The next few minutes were a blur.
When I regained consciousness, I was outside of the mall. My handcuffed hands were covered in soot, my eyes and lungs filled with irritating smoke. While I could only see the hood of the police car I was cuffed on top of, I knew that my eyes were really taking in freedom: freedom from the tyranny of poor taste that Spencer’s Gifts reigned upon the Arizona Mills mall and the patrons that frequented its premises. And whatever troubles were in my future were worth saving that one child from a lifetime of lowbred humor on the account of tacky wares.