THIS PHOTO WAS TAKEN LAST WEEK AT MY LOCAL KMART. YES, THAT IS A SEALED VHS TAPE OF JIMMY NEUTRON THE MOVIE, IN 2014, AT KMART, SITTING NEXT TO DVDS AND BLU-RAYS, PRICED AT $8.99
To give perspective, this film was released on VHS in 2002 and has been sitting unopened in a Kmart store for 12 years, longer than children now in middle school.
Plain proof that no one does inventory or gives a shit at any Kmart anywhere. Someone could probably live in Kmart and have no one notice.
In 2001, I did an experiment for school about the idea of living in a big-box store like this. I selected a busy 24hr Meijer, which is a midwest-only combination of Marts both K and Wal. I entered the store on a lovely friday afternoon, and didn’t leave the store until the following sunday evening. I read the entire magazine section, played all of the demos of the games in the electronics section, and beat minesweeper on my phone innumerable times. I ate at the pizza parlour they’d just installed, and slept on the display furniture. I wandered around the racks during the day, bored out of my skull. I considered buying frozen burritos and asking one of the employees if they had a breakroom where I could microwave them, but that felt like it wouldn’t truly answer the question if someone could live in a Meijer; I’d be using resources that weren’t public.
The only time I was ever asked if I needed any help was on sunday morning around 8am, and then it was only waking me up to ask me if I was drunk and had wandered in that night and fell asleep on their displays. I said, “no, I’m fine, I’m just trying this futon.” and was left alone.
The people that work there really don’t care.
u lived in a k-mart
This is the most magical thing I’ve ever had the privilege of reading
Steve Rogers doesn’t know about Luke’s dad.
…What did that Avengers Tower movie night look like?
"Okay, I’ve got historical events and music so far. What movies do I need to see?" Steve asks, breaking out his notebook.
“Some Like It Hot,” Bruce says immediately.
“Robin Hood,” Clint puts in, to no one’s surprise.
Steve smiles. “Errol Flynn?”
“Men in Tights.”
Natasha looks up from where she’s curled in an armchair. “The Sound of Music?”
Clint snorts. “I think he might object to the singing Nazis, Nat.”
Steve just raises an eyebrow. “Singing Nazis?” That one goes on the list.
"Ooh, in that case, Pearl Harbor,” Tony says.
A chorus of groans and protests meet his statement.
"What? I kind of want to see his head explode."
Steve does not put that one on the list. “Anything else?”
“Star Wars,” Darcy says, without looking up from her phone.
The room goes silent. Everyone stops and stares at her like they’ve forgotten she stuck around after Jane went back to New Mexico. Which they probably have.
"Darce, you’re a genius,” Clint breathes.
Bruce actually smiles. “We are in the presence of the last unspoiled adult in the entire country.”
Tony’s eyes light up. “Oh my god, he doesn’t know that Vader is—”
Natasha has him in a choke-hold before anyone realizes she’s moving. “Not another syllable.”
Tony raises his hands in surrender, and Natasha loosens her hold. “What the hell was that about?” he wheezes.
She nods towards Bruce, who is looking somewhat green around the gills.
"Spoilers make him angry."
In the past few months, debate surrounding the use of racial caricatures as pro sports mascots has reached a fever pitch. Just ask the Washington Redskins, who’ve endured significant backlash for both their refusal to change their name and their half-assed attempts to placate their critics.
But a few miles west, fans of the MLB’s Cleveland Indians are taking a stand. In a motion of solidarity, a small but growing number have been “de-Chiefing” their paraphernalia by removing the offensive “Chief Wahoo” mascot from caps and jerseys that bear its likeness.