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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