The Privileged Few

Last night, I stopped at the local supermarket to buy goodies and snackies for the individuals with whom I rehearse. I'm one half of the hospitality committee and so, if I show up at rehearsals with, to paraphrase from the original Godfather, "just my dick in my hand" I feel somewhat embarrassed.

After all, nobody's going to snack, are they? At least, no one I'd care to invite.

As I tooled around the parking lot of the supermarket, aimlessly searching for the spot that would get me the closest to the entrance in view of the pelting, freezing rain, I pulled my car into a spot and was just about to put the bitch into "park" when I saw a sign that sent me into a fucking rage.

"RESERVED FOR THOSE PICKING UP ON-LINE ORDERS."

What?

"That's a new one, guy," I thought to myself as I punched the Chrysler emblem on my steering wheel. I mean, are they kidding me? Do the rotund schlubs sitting at home in front of their computers in their stinky, cheese-laden slippers and their tattered, careworn, Dorito-fart underwear, clicking away at pictures of boneless pork shoulder and dehydrated Knorr meals deserve a better spot than me, just because they condescend to pop by to pick up their order?

Why, might I ask, do they need a special fucking space? I'm carrying out bags of groceries the same as they are, aren't I? Do they just presume that, if you're ordering at home you're some sort of mental or physical degenerate, stewing in your own milky feces whilst slamming your bicycle-helmeted head into the corner of your desk? Do they assume that your aged mama is swinging by in your handicap-accessible Town & Country van to pick up your Veetavitagegimen and your Lactatortots while you rock back and forth in the back of the van, listening to synthesized children's music from the 1980s?

Believe me-- people who order groceries from home are not

...special.

...special (in that way).

...deserving of special parking spots.

...attractive.

And, if it's not the lazy shitbirds ordering ribroast online who get first crack at the good supermarket parking spots, it's expectant mothers. Or mothers with small children. I mean, where does this insanity end? I liked it better when there were just a couple spots designated for the handicapped/persons with disabilities, incessant dribblers-- whatever you're supposed to call them these days. I don't care-- give them their spots with the little man sitting in the big circle thing, that's fine. And, if some bastard in a BMW parks there and jumps out of his car wearing loafers and no socks, ambling with no difficulty whatsoever into the store-- then his car should be fire-bombed and he should have his legs broken by Kathy Bates-- that's okay with me, too.

But that's where it should stop. With the disabled. There's nothing wrong with goddamn expectant mothers that they can't walk another seven goddamn feet across the parking lot. What does ACME and Giant and Wegman's think is going to happen? That somebody's kid is going to be born with Kleinfelter's Syndrome because mom had to park her Previa all the hell way down by the shopping cart return?

Come on.

And mothers with small children? No offense, mothers with small children, but fuck them! Nobody forced them to have small children. If a clown car full of pygmies pulled into the lot of the local Shop N' Bag, everybody would expect those cute little fuckers to hoof it across the lot. What's wrong with being small? It's good for kids to walk, especially if they're small. Children, ladies and gentlemen, are portable, in case you didn't know. They're not heavy rocks or big lumps of iron. You can carry them, or they can walk. Fuck-- put them on a goddamn skateboard-- just move their asses and let them know that life is hard and sucking it up and growing up ASAP is the only answer.

We just want to coddle our kids and, as a fellow lazy American, I understand that urge. But remember the Puritans and shit. They would never have accepted the charity of a special parking spot. I mean, it would look ridiculous.

"Reserved for Puritans Only."

That's just silly.

I'm not saying, of course, that I don't think anybody should be permitted to have a special spot at the supermarket, and I'm certainly not saying that I think I should have a special spot. But I just don't see why assholes who order groceries online and come to the store to pick up, or expectant mothers, or mothers with small children should have treatment on par with people whose legs don't work.

I am, however, in favor of preferential parking spots to recognize people who are deserving of special treatment for one reason or another. Here are some signs I would like to see in the parking lots of local food marts:

"Reserved for Any Catholic Priest Who Has Never Finger-Banged a Minor"

"Reserved for Walmart Employees Who Come to Work Sober"

"Reserved for Telemarketers Who Have Attempted or at Least Pondered Suicide"

"Reserved for People Who Understand When to Use You're and Your"

"Reserved for Jewish Women Who Do Not Speak in a Shrill, Shrewish Tone"

"Reserved for Registered Sex Offenders Who Don't Have Three First Names (i.e., "Jim Bob Lee")"

"Reserved for Police Officers Who Do Not Have Crew-Cuts"

"Reserved for Attractive Women Who Consistently Display Cleavage, Even When It's Cold"

"Reserved for People Who Appreciate Peter Sellers Films"

"Reserved for Anyone Who Traded in a Hummer After a Religious Awakening"

"Reserved for Black People" (because, let's face it, they've had it rough.)

"Reserved for Men Who Have Women's Names (i.e., "Beverly," "Carol," "Stephanie")"

"Reserved for Anyone Who Thinks Fibromyalgia Is Total Bullshit"

"Reserved for American Who Isn't Currently 60 or More Pounds Overweight"

"Reserved for People Who Have Never Considered Writing Into Dear Abby"

"Reserved for Pennsylvanians Who Aren't Attracted to Blood Relatives"

"Reserved for People Who Can Quote Entire Episodes of 'Fawlty Towers' from Memory"

"Reserved for Civil War Reenactors Who Get That It's Just a Hobby"

"Reserved for Sex Workers"

and, of course,

"Reserved for Followers of My Masonic Apron"