Friday, May 13, 2011

Alot of Idiocy

This is a day late and I'm sorry.  For those of you keeping score at home, Tuesdays are Boys on Film, Thursdays are Writing and Saturdays are Record of the Month.  But it's Friday, and this is the weekly writing column .  . . but I think it's worth the wait.

I was in Walmart today buying envelopes and I saw a teeshirt with a picture of Marilyn Monroe and her quote "I don't know who invented high heels, but women owe him alot"

That's not a typo on my part.  The shirt actually said "alot"


Guess that stereotype of Walmart being filled with ignorant illiterate rednecks has to come from somewhere.

It's bad enough that I still see "alot" in college papers, but someone actually passed that through.  Some corporate CEO looked at that product and said, "Yep, it's good" despite an enormous, glaring typo.

Or maybe it's no longer a typo.  Maybe we've just becomes so stupid and lazy that "alot" has finally become a word, like "bootyliscious" or "crunk."  I mean, our teachers are just glorified babysitters (at least that's what I'm expected to be when I'm in front of a college class and was fired from SUNY Cobleskill for being, among other things, too educated (I also had the nerve to slip on some ice on their sidewalk and injure my back)) who are expected to teach to a test so schools can get the government funds that allow administrators to collect salaries of 100K while their teachers qualify for food stamps . . .but it doesn't matter, because even if they were trying to use their six years of college to actually teach anything, the students themselves are so coddled by their helicopter parents that if little Madison or Jayden wants to spell it "alot" well, she/he's so special and perfect and precious that she/he can go right ahead because whatever she/he does is just perfect, like her/him.

Maybe it's a class issue.  "Eh, they're poor and uneducated, they're shopping at Walmart, they won't notice."  Whatever it is, it's obnoxious as hell, and it's wrong.  We should be ashamed of ourselves . . . that is, if we can tear ourselves away from watching Ow, My Balls long enough to feel shame.

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