The Knave of Knives

Anyone who gets nutted up over the very mention of Wal Mart or Sam’s Club need read this entry no further.  I’m a fan.  On the other hand, if you just need a little therapy to get through the double glass doors and be greeted by a local senior citizen who otherwise wouldn't have a job, then read on.

Every time I find that I have need for a 55 gallon drum of mayo, or the handy 12 and a half pound pack of hot dogs, where do I go?  Sam’s Club, of course.  In Boardman, Ohio.  It's also where I buy gasoline most of the time.

The last few times that I've gone to Sam’s Club, though, there's been a droning amplified voice coming from somewhere between the produce and the beer.  I looked in it's direction in the past but elected to ignore what couldn’t possibly be true.  Last time in, I took a good hard look.  And here's the horror that I found:  A County Fair style pitch man with a head set and amplifier to enhance his voice selling knives.

I shit you not.

I couldn't believe it either.

Surrounding the pitch man on his platform, performing a variety show of magic with these specific knives, were 15 or 20 of my fellow citizens, in rapt attention.  Slack-jawed, 100 meter stare, perhaps not knowing where in time and space they currently resided.  Drooling like Homer Simpson eyeing a donut.

They NEEDED those knives.

Maybe it's because we're between county fairs right now—the Trumbull County Fair has run it’s course, and the Canfield Fair has yet to begin.  Maybe he's a phantom pitch man, forever in search of a mid-way.

Next week I expect it'll be snake oil.

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