Our correspondent, feeling embarrassed as of late about his 1996 Nissan Maxima, decided to brave the elements one pleasant spring day recently and went to a local dealership with the intention of buying a car. Here is what transpired…

On a bright and sunny day, with nostrils full of pollen, I drove up to the Volkswagen dealer on Highway 17 on the north eastern outskirts of Jacksonville. Ever since my time abroad on the continent when I visited Volkswagen headquarters in Wolfsburg, I have dreamt of owning a VW of my own. So, even though I knew this was going to be an experiment in investigative journalism, my desire to purchase a new volkswagen was no mere fabrication of my imagination. However, at this juncture in my life, I am in no position to purchase a new automobile and for this article, I feigned my interest for the employees of the dealership.

I parked my car and began to inspect the cars, and was soon met by a tall, slender, middle aged African-American named Mike who gave me a hearty handshake and asked me what sort of car I would be interested in. After hearing that I was looking for a small economic and efficient car, he directed my attention to a used, 2007 Volkswagen Rabbit that was parked on the grass in front of the main entrance to the dealer. He asked me if I would be interested in test driving and I said I would. He excused himself and escaped into the dealership offices to get the keys and left me to admire the fine German engineering.

However, instead of Mike returning with the keys, it was instead a young lady named Nikki who appeared to be in her early thirties and the mother of at least one or two children. She unlocked the car and told me I could sit down in the drivers seat and she began her pitch. Nikki was quite helpful and knew about all the little gizmos and gadgets that those Germans come up with that I would never thought up at all. Like a glove box that can double as a ice chest and seat warmers so my butt can sweat even more during the mild North Carolina summers.

I then took the car out on the road, and drove it for about a mile down Highway 17 in the direction of New Bern and then at the behest of Nikki, I turned it back around and went back to the dealer. Unlike my current ride, the VW accelerated quickly and did not feel like it was about to fall apart into a wild inferno of speed and flashing light. When we arrived back to the dealership, Nikki began to move in for the kill and began to suggest that we needed to get down to in their parlance, “making the car mine.” I suggested that she give me her business card and that I would come back tomorrow with a decision about the car. She told me to hold on a minute and brought Mike back out and he knocked 500 dollars off the asking price they had on the poster hanging in the car. I said I still needed to sleep on it and wanted another day to think about it. He told me that if I needed some more time to think about it, I should do it with the car and I should take it home for the night to drive it around and get used to it and “make it my own.” This did not seem to be an unreasonable request, the VW being far better than my current form of vehicular conveyance, and so I acquiesced to his request and took the car home for the evening on the condition that I bring it back tomorrow afternoon.

I immediately took the car through all sorts of twisty turny back rods in the vicinity of Swansboro and Hubert and had a huge grin on my face the whole time I was driving. However, after playing the Stooges first album through three times and stopping for a oreo blizzard at Dairy Queen, I suddenly panicked and realized that I did not have a comprehensive insurance policy for my current car and I was unsure who would be liable if I got into an accident in this car. I also realized that I really didn’t need a car and had no real desire to continue having this one until the next day. So I took the car back to the dealership and tried to give it back to them. This time I was greeted by the General Manager who assured my that their insurance policy covered the vehicle and he really wanted me to have it until tomorrow, when he was certain I was going to buy it. He also wanted to know what my hesitations were and I informed him I was a cautious individual and did not want to jump into a decision that I might possibly regret and merely wanted another day to consider it. He asked me if the price was holding me back, and said it was a little, and he knocked another 1000 off the price of the car, bringing it from 16,500 originally down to 15,000. We talked for a little while longer and I was able to get him to go down another 1000 dollars to 14,000. I said I would consider this as I went home and crunched the numbers.

By this time I had nearly fallen prey to their salesmanship and was beginning to think that I really did want that car. So, I went home and actually crunched the numbers. I discovered that I could purchase the car for his asking price and also discovered the going Kelly blue book rate for the car and discovered that if I ran a hard bargain and remained steadfast and stern, I could most likely get them to go down even further in price. But purchasing this car would prevent me from being able to make a trip to Europe or New Zealand in the near future and I decided that I would much rather have a trip to Europe than a new car.

It was with much sadness that I returned the car and gave up my phat ride for the day. I remained steadfast in refusing to reconsider my decision and explained to them that at this current juncture of my life I was just unable to make such a large purchase. Nikki seemed sad as I walked away she looked as if she was about to cry, unable to comprehend how I could say no after she had done everything in her saleslady powers to convince me to buy the automobile. Her boss didn’t look to happy either, I think she might have got fired, she had confided to me the previous day that she hadn’t sold a car yet.

After thinking they were going to pull some sly tactics and double cross me and rip me off, the car buying experience in Jacksonville turned out to be no different than it would have been anywhere else. If one goes in armed with facts and knowledge and does not allowed his emotions to be swayed by the tactics of the salespeople, you are in no more danger than you would be in any other part of the country. Perhaps the dealers get a bad rap here because young marines who are stupid and think they can afford something they can’t make bad decisions when purchasing a brand new Ford Mustang. But if you are firm and smart, you can get yourself a reasonable deal here and can be helped by some pretty honest and fair people. Now, I can’t say that about everyone, but the people at National Volkswagen in Jacksonville treated me fair and honestly and did not appear to be trying to take advantage of because of my employer. So, I’m not quite sure why buying a car here in Jacksonville is made out to be such a horrific ordeal.

After passing Radio the Jacksonville Ninja at the corner of 17 and Western, and almost getting sideswiped by a new Ford Mustang running a red light, you pull into the parking lot of Golden Corral after having contended with payday traffic at Wal-Mart. The exterior décor of Golden Corral looks like that of a single story ranch house, the type most Americans aspire to own one day. Going through the entrance there is a sort of cattle corral guiding the herd of dinners up to the register where they receive their drinks and plates and pay for the all you can eat experience. After paying at the register, you are released into a dinning room that appears like a cafeteria, but which is truly an egalitarian experience. The tables are set close to each other, allowing you to easily talk to your fellow man and experience all sorts of cultures you would not normally see.

The food is also set out like a cafeteria, wilting under heat lamps and with spoons or ladles allowing you take as much or as little as you would like of the food. The food is about what one would expect, neither spectacular nor repulsive. There were a few things I was disappointed with, such as the pulled pork which tasted like gelatinous fat doused in ketchup, and the dinner rolls which tasted like doughy air balls smothered in hydrogenated vegetable oils. However, the candied yams were quite delicious and the pot roast was edible. However the piece de resistance was the bread pudding, which was truly a divinely inspired creation, heaps of white bread covered with copious amounts of sugar.

About halfway through the meal I began to feel uncontrollably nauseous. I noticed that most of the dinners had a minimum weight of 230 pounds, that beyond going for seconds, they got up for thirds and fourths of food before loading their plate up with sweets from the dessert bar. But what really did it for me was when I saw a large woman wearing bright pink shorts that showed far too much leg and a skin tight t-shirt that was adorned with sparkles and sequins walking through the restaurant. My appetite suddenly disappeared and I was about to get up and storm away. I then later saw a man wearing a stained white wife beater and a baseball cap out from which a long braided piece of hair was descending all the way down to his buttocks. And there were the obese small children, and seniors counting out medication on their tables. By the end of the meal, the nausea was too much, and I ran out of there as fast as I possibly could.

In terms of calorie to dollar ratio at a restaurant, no other place in Classy Jacksonville can measure up to Golden Corral. And for a truly voyeuristic journey into American culture and ambience, no other place can compare to the Golden Corral. However, I wouldn’t recommend going there more than once. But if you do go, you will still feel full more than 16 hours later.

Jacksonville is littered with Barbershops nestled in between the used car lots, dry cleaners and furniture stores, fast food restaurants and gentleman’s clubs. Most are little more than a little shed with a sign saying Barber Shop, but some also occupy store fronts in run down strip malls. Most offer roughly the same thing, a quickly done haircut usually missing a spot or two of hair, or disregarding the instructions of the person getting the hair cut who asked for a low fade and instead is given a high fade. Most charge between $7 and $10 and seem to have a pretty brisk business.

To say that all barbershops here in Classy Jacksonville are the same would do a great disservice to a town that probably has the most barbershops per capita of any city in the world. For example, New Legends occupies a strip mall next to a tattoo parlor and a boot repair shop on Highway 24. Upon entering you can’t help but notice the life size poster of Al Pacino from the film Scarface hung next to a framed portrait of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. BET will be playing on the television and on the coffee table in front of plush leather couches will be a wide assortment of black gentleman’s magazines for those who are waiting to get a haircut. The haircuts are what you would expect to get in Classy Jacksonville, but the ambiance more than makes up for it.

Another barbershop, the one I currently frequent the most, is called Pro Kutz (with a K and Z because it’s just that fucking Xtreme) is located next to Arby’s and Gruntz. The outside is adorned with marine corps flags, but don’t be scared because they do a mighty fine low fade and every tenth haircut is free. Inside there is a pool table and a big screen TV, an assortment of black gentleman’s magazines and all sorts of marine corps insignia to let you know who they market to.

Altogether, getting a haircut is a weekly ordeal in classy Jacksonville. Every first sergeant in the marine corps is convinced that hair cannot be cut on any other day besides Sunday and that it needs to happen once a week, even though regulations plainly state that it needs to happen no more than once per pay period. Barber shops are filled on sunday, and Classy Jacksonville, true to form, has found another market to exploit and is doing fantastic at it.

Onslow county's finest source for news and information

One of the more lamentable side effects about the advent of the internet and 24 hour cable news channels has been the slow death of local newspapers throughout the country. Newspapers in most cities are struggling to stay afloat and remain viable as they cut back in staff and size and continue to lose ad revenue and circulation numbers. And I’m sure that the Jacksonville Daily News is no different. However, this does not mean that there has been any loss of classy Jacksonville spirit in this newspaper. I believe that the Jacksonville Daily News is a true embodiment and reflection of the community it covers, and is worth a look next time you are in your local Starbucks on Western Boulevard looking to drink a latte and purchase the New York Times (only to find you can’t purchase the Times there).

Like most great publications, The Daily News has its own unique style. Reflecting the nationwide shift away from basic schooling and education, the Daily News regularly flaunts correct spelling and grammar provisions, adding its own unique creativity and flavor to the relatively drab world of journalism. Why would anyone want to read an article that was spelled correctly when it is much more fun and challenging to read something that is forever pushing the boundaries of understanding? Most newspapers I have read merely give the city or town of residence for a person being mentioned in an article. However, the Daily News, to give their paper a more hometown feel, gives the street or road of residence for the various subjects of their articles. I think this is a nice touch. I want to know exactly where the accused pederasts and burglars live. Our community can never know enough. The Daily News also, in a personal and moving choice, places obituaries in the front page section, apparently the most important thing going on here in Onslow County is people dying.

True to its mission of covering local stories of interest, the Daily News in its most recent edition covered the state of local adult businesses, which apparently has not been immune to the recession or growing use of the internet. And in last Sunday’s paper, I enjoyed a side story about a local high school boy stealing snacks from his school’s concession stand. It’s also good to know about pederasts, peepers, and other sexual offenders.

All in all, I would say that the Daily News is probably the worst paper I have ever read. Not only is it poorly written, it has myriad spelling and grammar mistakes which make reading it a wince inducing exercise. Does it provide a valuable local source of news, covering local crime, town hall meetings and the local economy? Yes, it does. But is it so much to ask to spell things correctly? Even the staff of lance corporals at the other local paper, The Globe, doesn’t mess up quite as much. Perhaps Americans would care more about the demise of small town journalism if these journalists cared about the sort of things their teachers would have attacked with their red pens and pencils back in high school and elementary school. And given the advent of microsoft word and spellcheck, this is even more unforgivable.

For many jaded souls like myself who have resided in Classy Jacksonville for a while, we begin to forget what caused us to fall in love with the place and its many charms initially. We forget what was going through our head when we initially went down Highway 24 and Western, the first time we passed the Gasdonalds, the first time we were cut off by a mustang. To help refresh my memory and provide the readers of this fine institution with a fresh perspective, I had the pleasure to interview a new arrival to Classy Jacksonville, Scott Sirkoski. So over delicious Thai food at one of Jacksonville’s better eating establishments, the Old Siam, I interviewed Scott to get a new perspective. Here is a transcript of what happened.

Classy Jacksonville: So, Scott, do you like Thai food?

Scott Sirkoski: I love Thai food. Is it any good here?

CJ: Actually it’s amazing here, surprisingly. The sad part is this is one of the best restaurants in town but everytime I come here, it’s deserted except for the portrait of the King and Queen of Thailand. But if you go down the road, you’ll find Texas Roadhouse packed.

SS: Yeah, I don’t get this place. It’s something else.

CJ: Yeah it is. So you just got here a few weeks ago, right Scott.

SS: Yep. I’ve been enjoying every minute.

CJ: I can tell. So, you’ve only been in the marine corps a few months, and after school, they sent you here. Did you have a choice about coming here?

SS: Haha, did they give you one? Two days before I graduated, they told me I had orders to come here. And then after ten days of leave at home, I arrived here.

CJ: So you got here, you’re riding in a cab, going down Highway 24, going towards the main gate, you’re taking in the sights for the first time. What’s going through your head?

SS: What the fuck did I just get myself into is what’s going through my head. All I see are pawn shops, tattoo parlors, car dealerships the whole way down the road, all these neon signs, not exactly the most pleasant sight. And I’m thinking, I have to spend the next 2 years of my life here? I’m probably going to kill myself. It was really just a culmination that joining the marine corps had probably been the worst decision of my life.

CJ: Wow. So you regret joining the marine corps?

SS: Yeah, I regretted it most of the way through boot camp, and then through MCT, and then coming here was really just further proof that somewhere along the road to college I got lost. Nice kids from the suburbs like me don’t join the marine corps. I’m a nice guy. I’m not really aggressive. I’m quiet and respectful. I’m a good kid. And I’m pretty much surrounded by all the dudes from high school I hated and couldn’t stand. It’s a five year long nightmare.

CJ: So if you hadn’t joined the marine corps, what would you have done with your life?

SS: Went to college like everyone else I graduated with. I’m from a pretty nice suburb outside of Charlotte. Nobody else I knew joined the marine corps. I probably shouldn’t have joined either. But here I am.

CJ: Why did you join?

SS: Well, while surfing for porn one day during summer break in between junior and senior year, I came across an ad for the marine corps and I clicked on it. And I started reading their site and was like yeah, I wanna improve myself. I want to challenge myself. Honor, courage, commitment sound like good things. Yeah. And then there’s this link to send away for more information, which I click. Next thing you know, a week later, I’m getting a phone call from some Gunnery sergeant who butchers my last name, wanting me to come in to speak with him. And there I am in his office with the little medal tags telling him what sort of things I want out of the marine corps. And well, the rest is history I guess.

CJ: What’s it like growing up in the south?

SS: What do you mean?

CJ: Well you see, I grew up in Oregon. And I’m just supposing that growing up in a different place perhaps gives you a different view about Jacksonville. You see, I view Jacksonville as being the south or at least in the south.

SS: No, no, that’s where you have it wrong. Jacksonville is this weird anamoly that has nothing to do with the rest of the south. I’m not saying that I like the south or anything. I mean I guess I do, I really haven’t been anywhere else, it’s home. But Jacksonville is an entirely different beast that could be anywhere next to any base in America. It just happens to be in North Carolina. Which is sort of unfortunate for North Carolina. I think it gives us a bad name.

CJ: But back to growing up in the south.

SS: Yeah. Well I don’t know, there were a lot of kids who were into Nascar and red neck shit. But that was never really me, and I never really fit in with them. I don’t really feel qualified talking about this subject.

CJ: Fair enough. Well, thanks for your time Scott. You pretty much confirmed everything I thought about this place. I suggest running away to Canada now.

SS: I might man. What was I thinking?

CJ: None of us know what we were thinking. But just remember, if something isn’t funny for five years, it never really was.

America's Finest Source for news and journalistic integrity

The Globe is the weekly newspaper published by Camp Lejeune and is quite a common sight around town. No matter where you go in Classy Jacksonville or on Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune, you are likely to see piles and piles of this newspaper laying about and around. This is not to say that a lot of people read this paper, in fact I think I have never seen anyone read this paper. But it is everywhere, and you could say it has quite the local presence. I decided to pick up a copy today while buying some unfairly priced beer at the store to see what my local journalistic competitors are writing about and why it is that no one seems to read it.

The first thing one notices about this paper is that the overwhelming majority of these articles are about the marine corps and marine corps operations and painting both in only the most positive colors. True Americans, being a free and independent people, like to take their news from such well respected sources as Fox News and Rush Limbaugh and are wary of any sort of government or military sponsored propaganda. And since The Globe for the most part is nothing more than a local propaganda sheet printed by the base, true Americans are right stay clear of it, even if Camp Lejeune is a communist country. 

Second, and probably the biggest reason why no one reads the Globe is that it feels like reading a high school newspaper, only worse. Perhaps my high school had a better than average newspaper, but the Globe is worse than I remember high school newspapers being. Spelling errors are everywhere, grammar is poor, and the word choice and sentence structure reminds me of 9th grade English. I would like to think that there is a little subversive Corporal like myself who is looking for all sorts of little ways to fight against the man and show his dissatisfaction with the regime, and he found an easy way of doing this was to spell things wrong and write like a nine year old. And I can’t blame him for writing poorly, if I had to write about the latest happenings at the local dump or intramural football games,  I probably wouldn’t care that much either.

One thing it does have going for it is that it edged out the New York Times from the local Starbucks, which either says something about our local Starbucks, or the journalistic integrity of the Globe. It also has some pretty neat coupons in it. Also, it has a little blurb about the latest Courts Martial, sort of like the police blotter in a small town newspaper which are always fun to read and useful to arm yourself with knowledge to avoid pederasts. 

Propaganda is bad. But poorly written propaganda is down right awful and dangerous. But one positive result of poorly written propaganda is that people will take it less seriously. If people take it less seriously, they are less likely to read it. And if they are less likely to read it, they are less likely to be misled by advertisements offering “E-1 and up financing guaranteed” and “Before you take it off, think about how well it fits.”

But since this recession is a global phenomonon that has effected everyone, from the factory workers in Michigan to the day trader on Wall Street, Jacksonville could not remain completely isolated from it. There has been much anecdotal evidence that I have been witness to that suggests that many more marines are reenlisting because of worries about the job market and their ability to get employment with comparable income and benefits in the civilian market. And I myself have been told to think about reenlisting because I will be completely unable to get a job out in the real world (this is false, I think the shell station would let me pump gas again). Of course, this argument had no effect on me, the only way they’ll convince me to reenlist is if they give me a femme fatale handcuffed to a briefcase full of one million dollars cash (I get to keep both the girl and the money).

But how I knew the recession had really hit Classy Jacksonville was when I was in my local neighborhood exchange yesterday to purchase my weekly ration of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. Since I have arrived at Camp Lejeune, and possibly since the Carter administration, a twelve pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer has been $5.85. So when I grabbed the case out of the cooler and walked to the register and got it scanned, I was appalled to find out that the price had been increased to $7.08. This is class warfare at its most awful and insidious! How am I, the working man, going to get through the recession if they arbitrarily raise the price of beer like this? Especially such a steep markup that has come out of nowhere? This is a travesty and it was at this moment I realized that none of us are immune from the churnings of macroeconomics, as the poet said, no man is an island entire to himself. And especially not Classy Jacksonville.

Perhaps I am a misanthrope or a communist, but malls have never had that much appeal to me. The gleaming halls of America’s bright shining capitalism have always felt empty, cold and perhaps a little bit out of reach with their shean of unattainability to a poor boy growing up in an economically depressed Pacific Northwest logging town. However there has been one mall that has made me consider otherwise, and has forced me to reconsider the commercial and anthropological opportunites a mall presents. And that mall is the Jacksonville Mall of Jacksonville, North Carolina.

The Jacksonville Mall is situated on Western Boulevard, the busiest and most congested thouroughfare in all of Jacksonville. Like many malls in America, the Jacksonville mall is a one story affair, constructed with a brick facade and anchored with department stores at the extremeties. Inside are various chain stores that one can find at most malls, Sunglass Hut, the Gap, American Eagle, Foot Locker, Radio Shack, and the hip sophisticate’s outfitter of choice, Hot Topic. There are shoe stores, jewelry stores, stores selling urban clothing, a music and movie store, and a more recent arrival and new intellectual hangout, Barnes and Noble.

On the surface, it wouldn’t appear that the Jacksonville mall is so different, but by keeping a keen eye open and an alert state of mind, there are some subtle differences and different players than you would find at most malls. I now present to you three characters that one would only be able to find at the Jacksonville Mall.

1. Boot Camp Bob
Boot Camp Bob is a recent graduate of Marine Combat Training at Camp Johnson and is on weekend liberty. Boot camp Bob was not well off in high school and has no sense of fashion or a collection of clothing. He was told in boot camp that he was allowed to wear his issued web belt and combat boots out in town with civilian attire and has decided to do so. Since he was also encouraged to purchase at MCT a unit tshirt, he has decided to wear it as well with the one pair of blue jeans he brought with him from home. And since poor boot camp Bob is afflicted with near sightedness, he also is wearing the large government issue glasses given to recruits in bootcamp, endearingly called BCG’s or birth control goggles for the wearers complete inability to be able to have sexual intercourse (It’s true, BCG’s are 99% more effective than both the pill and condoms).Boot Camp Bob will most likely take a Tarheel Taxi minivan with four or five other privates and PFC’s to the mall and will then conduct their shopping, particularly on a pay day weekend.

2. Dirt people wife
Overweight wearing a mustard stained wife beater and coming directly from her trailer in her grey 1988 Chevrolet Cavalier station wagon with rust finish, the dirt people wife unloads her 4 kids from the car and brings them into the mall, one in her arms, one in a stroller, and the other two shambling behind her. Since she made a good chunk of money working at La Mirage the night before (this being payday weekend), she has decided to treat herself with a stylish new pink feather boa and some unmentionables from Victoria’s Secret. Her children are loud and misbehave but she takes no notice of them and allow them to run amuck everywhere. Until once, they get too out of hand and she smacks them all upside the head which makes them all cry.

3. Marine Wife
Unloading her five kids from her minivan which is adorned with a plethora of amazing classy Jacksonville bumper stickers, the little stick figure stickers representing all the members of the family, a “half my heart is in Iraq” sticker, a “if you can read this thank a teacher, if you can read this in english thank a US marine” sticker,  the “my daddy fights for our freedom” sticker  and of course the “Hardest Job in the corps, marine wife” sticker. Having a had a good night dancing at the Driftwood the night before, she has decided to go treat herself to some new body care products from Bath and Body works and a new bumper sticker from the bumper sticker in the kiosk in the middle of the mall. Her children are loud and obnoxious as well, especially after one of them runs away after this wife runs into another marine wife and they begin to talk about how hard their lives are and how the military and all its nonsense paperwork are absurd.

4. The Chutster

Before the chutster can go out to his bar of choice, Lucky’s or Hooligans or for the more intellectual ones, Hooters, he needs the proper clothing. He takes his paycheck and after spending some of it on a “death before dishonor” tattoo, he decides he needs a new shirt. Parking his Ford Mustang after almost running over a slightly overweight man wearing BCG’s trying to get to his Nissan in the parking lot, the chutster makes his way to the American Eagle store to buy a new shirt. This shirt is pink, two sizes too small (to show off your ripped and roarked muscles) and contrasts really well with the tribal tattoo he already has coming down from his eagle globe and anchor tattoo on his arm. He goes down to the kiosk selling baseball caps and buys a miller lite cap that is already slightly torn and worn looking and after purchasing it, places it on his head and tilts it slightly to the side. He then goes and buys a new pair of shades, oakley sunglasses to be exact. He also needs to stock up on protein powder and HGH and buys some at GNC. The chutster will then walk back to his car, walking into 4 different people because he’s the fucking man and doesn’t get out of the way for anybody. He’s ready to go impress the ladies.

As you can see, the Jacksonville Mall has quite a few different characters which help add to the class and charm that is Jacksonville, North Carolina. Hopefully one day you will be able to observe these people in their natural habitat.

Marines are not to be trusted with certain things or responsibilities. They are not mature enough and cannot be expected to handle certain adult responsibilities that most Americans are able to deal with and handle. Marines can be trusted with top secret information, millions of dollars worth of gear and equipment, grenades, assault rifles and ammunition. However in the eyes of most leadership, marines cannot be trusted with the simple adult responsibility to show up on time to work or whatever other duty has been assigned that day. To counter this problem, the marine corps came up with the fifteen before fifteen game which is always an amusing spectacle for those involved.

In the civilian world, employers use the highly ineffective and ineffecient model of telling their workers to be at their place of work at a certain time and if they do not arrive on time, they will most likely be reprimanded or if the problem persists, they will be released from their present state of employment. But the marine corps, as a paragon of effeciency and fairness, has a far better solution. Instead of just expecting their marines to show up at 8 in the morning when they need to be there, they will tell them 7:45, because it would be a travesty and most likely marines will die in Iraq if they are not fifteen minutes early to a formation in front of an armory, which doesn’t open until 9, to receive weapons. But since the platoon sergeant told his squad leaders he wants them there at 7:45, these squad leaders who want to play the game as well will tell their team leaders to have their marines there at 7:30. These team leaders not wanting to be out done or seen to be bad leaders tell their team members 7:15. So, what orginally started as a leader wanting his marines to clean their weapons at the armory once it opened at has now translated into them standing at the cold and rain for an hour and 45 minutes.

Marines love nothing more than having their time wasted and standing around waiting for no apparent reason. Most marines don’t have families and would much rather spend their time standing around doing nothing at work than letting those married marines spend time with their wives or children. Standing around doing nothing builds commradarie and improves morale exponentially.

But god forbid you be the one who arrives late, by even a minute or two. Because then the next day you can expect to arrive another 15 minutes earlier and everyone else who is in your unit can expect to show up earlier as well because as we all know from the Treaty of Versailles after World War I, collective punishment does wonders.

In any town in any region of America, the local Wal Mart is a bastion and bulwark, not only of the local economy and culture, but also an island of unbeatable every day low prices. While much maligned by the social elite and blamed for the decay of many small business and urban centers throughout America, the Wal Mart business model has proved to be both brilliant and unbeatable and has been much copied since its inception and it is hard to imagine life without Wal Mart. Where else can one buy 12 tube socks for $3 at 9 o’clock at night? And true to form, Classy Jacksonville has afforded us with an especially delightful Wal Mart experience, actually two of them. And it has been my experience that the best time to visit Jacksonville’s finest shopping establishment is on the first or fifteenth of the month, or the Friday preceeding those days if they happen to fall on weekend. These days happen to also correspond to when the Defense Financial and Accounting Service pays all service men and women. Our correspondant decided to brave the mass of humanity last Friday and infiltrated Wal Mart. I later interviewed him here in my new artist’s loft overlooking Camp Lejeune’s waste water treatment plant.

Classy Jacksonville: Hey how’s it going Olympic Bob?
Olympic Bob: Pretty good I’d say
CJ: Can I fix you a drink?
OB: Yeah sure, I’ll take some Rye neat.
CJ: Good call, I just got this really good bottle from the liquor store.
OB: Oh, really, (takes a sip) wow this is really good. You have amazing and discerning taste.
CJ: Well of course I do. Well onto our subject now. Wal Mart, Friday evening, pay day. Describe your drive from base to Wal Mart. Was it uneventful for the most part?
OB: I would say so. Well, after sitting in traffic for over 30 minutes trying to get out the main gate, I was cut off by an Eclipse, two Mustangs and almost collided into the new Dodge Charger. The traffic then creaked along 24 and Western, and I eventually made it into the parking lot.
CJ: Now describe for those readers who have never been to the Wal Mart on Western where it is situated and what sort of ordeal one must go through to get into it.
OB: Sure, well the older Wal Mart, and I would say the busier one, is located on the corner of Highway 17 and Western Boulevard, the busiest intersection in all of Jacksonville. It normally takes about five minutes and several cycles to get through the light and there are always people trying to switch lanes at the last moment and who are unable to get over in time for the lane they want. After getting through the intersection and entering the parking lot, there are several obstacles of speed bumps to contend with and the occasional obese wife or retired veteran hobbling around.
CJ: How would you describe the parking situation there? Ideal or amazing?
OB: I would say amazing. Not only is it nearly always full, there are several popular establishment on the fringes of the lot which are also full, such as Chuck E Cheeses and one Jacksonville’s finest restaurants, Golden Corral.
CJ: Now you’ve spent several minutes circling the lot and finding a spot and now you’ve got one and you’re walking inside. What first strikes you besides the world famous Wal Mart greeters.
OB: What I noticed first was a huge billboard on the wall with pictures of Marines in uniform, and yellow ribbons. It is obvious that this town is full of patriots and honors and respects its military.
CJ: So you’ve entered and you’re walking around. What is your general impression and what is the mood of the place?
OB: Really the only thing I can compare it to is the last shopping days before Christmas only instead of a joyous exhaustion about their movements, there is tinge of desperation among the families, thinking about their needs for the upcoming weeks and their budget for shopping and the other bills they have to pay, like their newly lifted Silverado. No matter where you go in the store it is crowded with families with all their 5 children in tow, young couples shopping for furnishings, and just a teeming mess of pulsing Jacksonville humanity.
CJ: The goods that are on sale there, was there anything that stuck out in your mind?
OB: They have an excellent selection of patriotic t-shirts and hats. You can buy firearms there. And even though you have a choice between an 18 or 24 pack of Milwaukee’s Best Light, there are also a couple tasty favorites like the Coor’s owned Blue Moon and Redhook ESB. Through and through, one of the better shopping stops in Jacksonville.
CJ: Can you buy a Mossy Oak hat there?
OB: Yes you can, aren’t they fucking amazing?
CJ: Hellz yeah they are. So how long did you have to wait in line to check out of Wal Mart?
OB: 17 minutes. Even though there were a lot more registers, it only seemed like half of them were being used. I’m not sure why that was, perhaps they’re having some sort of anthropological effeciency experiment.
CJ: So, all in all, would you describe your trip to purchase tube socks and razor blades a success?
OB: I would, not only did I get what I needed, I also purchased an amazing Mossy Oak hat and what should have been a 30 minute trip instead turned into a 2 hour journey into the heart of classy jacksonville.
CJ: Thanks Olympic Bob, you want another drink.
OB: I think I need one

Wal Mart on pay day is to be avoided at all costs. Not only will you most likely get stampeded by a herd of obese women, it will take a ridiculously long time and you will leave frustrated an unfufilled. Neither of which should happen while you are shopping in America.