Apres the McMartins, le deluge

Today in the parking lot at Trader Joe's in L.A. I witnessed something so revolting, unsettling and mortifying from which---at this moment---I feel as though I'll never be able to fully recover. A woman with her approximately five-year-old female appliance-possession-child togged out in an I DON'T TALK TO STRANGERS sweatshirt. What kind of person would be so dumb and insensitve as to dress a child in something like that? "Dumb" because it sure as hell isn't about to repel any serious would-be pederast (actually the tyke's looks were probably enough to do that. . .even Chester the Molester has some standards). And "insensitive" because what kind of slap in the face is that to practically anyone whose first impulse might be to gaze in the direction of the little girl with a look of affection in their eyes (Better not! Mom might be packing a rod.) And doesn't that article of clothing run the risk of causing the little girl to become engaged in a dialogue---for which she is perhaps just a tad too young---with her school-playmates about the subject of child predators?

My first impulse was to go up and coldcock the buppy beeatch. My second was to approach the child, in front of the mother, and ask "Want some candy, little girl?" Finally, better sense prevailed. The old pistol in the pocketbook theory.

Perhaps it was just the mother's way of trying to convince herself that the her offspring is better looking than she actually is. Or maybe she is simply is so busy AND dumb she thinks that if the daughter wears the sweatshirt she won't be bothered with having a serious conversation with the little girl about the, alas, all too real dangers that children DO face out there in the so-called "real world." Whatever the case. . . Look for the disfunctional kid on Oprah in about ten years or so.

I've little doubt that most reading this feel the same way I do; which leads to the inevitable question: "Doesn't the woman have any friends?" Doubtful that many of them would say, "Oh, how cute!"

Arriving back here at Oblivion Towers I googled the item on the net, but much to my surprise came up with nothing. Thought fer shur it would turn out to be a hot item. That's how stoopid I think the population is now in a country that would elect George Boosh prez.

It seems like only yesterday that it supposedly took an entire village to raise a child. (But only one lousy sweatshirt to tear them both down.) Sad sad sad. The final days, I tell you, the final days.

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