The routine chore of auto maintenance at Sears afforded me two hours of nothing better to do than hanging out at the local mall. I am not a mall person and I hit malls exactly once a year for Christmas shopping. And I only do that because living in a suburb means that my chances of actually finding a truly interesting and culturally enriching gift is nil.

As I walked through the mall I realized there is nothing whatsoever within the mall that anyone would actually need. Sure there is a Target, Sears and Macy’s and these stores offer clothes, cooking gear and what have you, but they conveniently on the outer edge of the mall and offer their own entrances thus removing the need to enter the inner sanctum

The inner sanctum shops offer two types of items: those that appeal to 13 year old gangsta wanna-bes that offer the lasting style and appeal of a fart; and tinselly eyesore decorative things that look like they were made in a sweatshop that employed the children from the “Its a small world” ride at Disney.

In short they are as certain to clog your home with meaningless crap as the food court is to clog your arteries with its tasteless, horrible, un-nutritious food.

Then there are the decorations. The great minds of my mall have decided to grace it with four shapes: square, circle, pizza wedge shaped triangle and a shape that looks like a stealth-bomber (I kid you not). Many flat surfaces (like the chair backs for instance) will have these charming shapes cut into them just so that you can’t forget you were in a mall if that was ever possible.

So as I sat there consuming my deep fat fried corn-dogs that had been switched from pork hot dogs to turkey hot dogs (an effect that reduced my fat and caloric intake by 3% yet destroyed any flavor I might hope to enjoy), I sat thinking. Each decoration was placed with specific intent and contemplation. Who decided then, that I would enjoy a red neon pizza shaped wedge on the ceiling near the pink faux marble pillar? Who boldly gave the thumbs up to lining the upper walls surrounding the food court with plaster stealth bombers painted in a leopard pattern, then spattered with purple? I suddenly wondered if Picasso got high on shrooms, and started firing his masterworks out of a cannon onto glue covered walls.

Malls are a waste of time and anything that you buy there that doesn’t immediately break will surely spend the rest of its life in your garage, closet or  the bottom of a drawer.

Malls are metaphors that represent our society’s abandonment of quality wherever possible.