Here in Tucson, they’ve been asking me that at the checkout counter for months.
I have a theory.
This relates directly to my theory on Carl’s Junior, and their bizarre new mentod of Ketchup Distribution.
I think that the retail outlets of the nation have become convinced that someday, somehow, the American consumer base will come to realize the inherent ridiculousness of all advertising. We will think to ourselves “You know, I doubt that that Tube 'O Muffins will actually make my spouse love me again, now that I think of it.” We will think “What the heck is in those Toaster Pastries that gets teenage boys so damned excited, anyway?” We will realize “No-one has ever been that happy about toothpaste. No-one. Ever. Except, possibly, SPOOFE.” And we will, as one, stop buying things.
Needless to say, this event, however unlikely, would be tragic for a nation built on Jiffy Pop and Hot Pockets. And so, the manufacturers of such things decided that the world just isn’t surreal enough to keep up with advertising. And they began to plan. And scheme. And laugh evilly, while twisting their hands together and/or fondling pets of various descriptions.
What they came up with was a plan to insert an increasing level of weirdness into everybody’s life. Stage One involves the Asking of Non-Sequiturs. The clerk at the local Albertson’s may not know it, but by acceeding to their employer’s demands and asking you “Did you find everyting all right?”, they are contributing to the oncoming tide of weirdness in which we are about to be engulfed. After all, what possible answer can there be to that question that doesn’t end up escalating the level of absurdity in the world? Answering with “Um, no, what aisle is Jesus in?” Or “Why, are you hiding something?” Or “Yeah, and do you know how tough it is to find powdered yak’s brains these days?” hardly seem to do much to help life revert to normalcy.
Listen closely to your local grocery store’s Muzak system in the oncoming months, and I believe you’ll begin to hear weirdness creep in there as well. It will begin with the juxtaposition of songs which belong nowhere near each other, like a segue between Frank Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight” and Iggy Pop’s “Lust for Life”. Later, subtle retooling of the lyrics to popular songs may begin to turn up, changing sweet standards like the Carpenter’s “Close To You” into nightmarish trips through the human subconscious, or John Denver’s “Sunshine On My Shoulders” into a rabid indictment of postmodernism.
I believe the next stage will involve impromptu performance art on the part of the cashiers and stockboys, designed to shake the average grocery shopper out of their daily stupor, and make them come to realize the absurdity inherent in living, so that commercials seem normal in comparison.
If the producers of American consumer products have their way, life is about to get a lot more surreal.
I, for one, look forward to it.
