I am not sure how much
longer I will be on line here because I may either have to go underground or
the worst case scenario is that I may be on an all expenses paid vacation
courtesy the government in Guantanimo. Perhaps
if I come clean here and make a full confession I can plea bargain a deal and
end up with a light sentence. All this
broo ha ha about Paula Deen’s comments and the NSA and big brother looking over
our shoulder every minute, it is a sure thing that I have been found out. Iit is just a matter of time before you will
probably see my face plastered all over the TV and internet.
With all these different store
shopping cards (the ones that track your purchases and give you discounts)
marketers can tell if your husband is using one sheet of toilet paper too
many. I went to Kroger’s yesterday
evening (trying to boycott Wal-Mart when I can) for my shopping. As I am standing at the checkout I see a
magazine mentioning Paula’s plight and one about Uncle Sam listening in on the
party line. I am thinking about how
easily things can become a perception of improper in a heartbeat. I glance down in my cart and I hear alarms
and sirens go off in my head. Oh No!
I am a politically incorrect shopper!
There it was for everyone Krogering to see. There sits my scandalous purchases in the
cart just ready to evoke a sign wielding protest.
There is my slap in the
face to the ancient civilizations with Greek yogurt. I thumb my nose up at the fleur de lis with
that big loaf of French bread and mama mia the Italian parsley is singing out
as loud as an aria. The wall is down in
Berlin so let’s take a swing at the Western block with that Russian dressing
and Polish sausage. They may think they are neutral in all this but to be
fair I give the Swiss their fair share with that package of Swiss cheese. I apologize to the Queen but those English
cucumbers were just too pretty to pass up.
I still wonder why they are named after the Brits but perhaps that is
something best left unsaid. You can’t
say I am a continental snob because that Mexican chili powder and the Canadian
bacon shows that I am all too fair about giving everyone equal time. Of all these I am probably the most ashamed of
the Eskimo pies. I will now have all our indigenous peoples
hurling dead fish impaled on popsicle sticks onto my front porch.
As I begin to place my incriminating
lot onto the belt of the check out by heart literally stops in panic! There will be no possibility of a plea bargain
now, not with this personal insult to the President of the United States. That’s right at the bottom of the cart was
that carton of half and half! I am surely
(c) 2013 Ellen Wilson-Pruitt