Welcome To Walmart

So it seems that today’s Walmarts are so vast and cavernous that denizens of Oklahoma have taken to cooking methamphetamine there, bubbling speedy brew in the friendly Waltonian confines, until their public chemistry experiments are belatedly noted and aborted by party-pooping badge-and-gun people.

On Thursday, one Elizabeth Alisha Greta Halfmoon entered a Tulsa Walmart about noon. Six hours later she was still there. It was then that security officers managed to notice that she was “acting suspicious.” Summoned Tulsa police officers discovered that Halfmoon was cooking methamphetamine: she had stationed herself “to the back of the store near restrooms, where she began mixing ingredients, Tulsa Police Corporal Scott Anderson said.”

“When I saw her she had just finished mixing sulfuric acid with starter fluid in a bottle,” reported Officer David Shelby. “She didn’t have the money to make the purchases of the chemicals that were needed so she was taking what was needed in the bottle.”

Officer Shelby said: “When firefighters were on the scene she made statements to them that is what she was doing, she was attempting to obtain these chemicals and was in the process of trying to manufacture meth. However, she said she was not very good at it.”

Fellow shoppers were said to be crippled by Horror, when they learned that they had been wandering through an active meth emporium.

Jessica Fuentes, who was with her one-year-old son, was in tears when she found out, and told Fox: “This is a family store. People need to start thinking. If she has family she needs to think about her family.

“If you are broke go out and get a job. It’s just wrong.”

Apparently this Fuentes person is suggesting that Halfmoon should have secured a job—at, say, somewhere like Walmart—in order to generate sufficient funds to allow her to erect a meth lab in her own home. Which I suppose makes sense in some sort of Reality or other.

The Tulsa World suggests there may have been a Casualty:

One officer may have been burned by sulfuric acid that had resulted from a chemical reaction in the box of items taken from the scene, [Officer} Anderson said. Officer Richard Urban told officers he felt a burning sensation on his hand through his leather glove as he was carrying evidence from the scene, Anderson said. Urban removed his glove and washed off the substance, leaving no visible injury, Anderson said.

Anderson noted that evidence seized at the scene included the aforementioned sulfuric acid and lighter fluid, as well as lithium and chemical drain cleaner. But no pseudoephedrine. Which is pretty much necessary in order to achieve methamphetamine.
“She maybe didn’t know how to do it,” Anderson offered.
This is not the first time that this particular Walmart has hosted a meth lab. In October, Glenn Reese was hauled off to the pokey when it was determined that there in the Walmart “an active meth lab” was bubbling away in his backpack.
Halfmoon was already in law trouble: last month she was arrested in what is apparently now known as a “smurf sting.”
“Smurf,” I learn, is a term that law-enforcement officers now employ to refer to an addict who shuffles into stores to attempt to purchase for meth-brew the pseudoephedrine that is present in cold and allergy medicines.
In totally related news, it was this week learned that the combined fortunes of six children or children-in-law of Walmart founder Sam Walton amount to more money than is possessed by all those who constitute the poorest 30% of Americans.
That’s six Waltonoids corralling more coin than some 90 million people.
This means that people like Halfmoon and Reese are each “worth” about as much as a blade of grass on a Walton-spawn lawn.
Studio people could never understand why Sam Peckinpah would not stop pestering them about the screenplay he adapted from a story by James Gould Cozzens, Castaway. Always they refused to pony up money for it: the thing didn’t seem like any sort of successful motion picture to them.
David Weddle, a Peckinpah biographer, describes this Peckinpah film that wouldn’t get made:
When an unspecified catastrophe overtakes New York, the sole survivor, Mr. Lecky, takes refuge in a cavernous department store, which has also escaped destruction.
There he finds everything he needs to live out his days in luxury—until he discovers that he is not alone. An intruder, a monstrous apelike creature, stalks the product-cluttered aisles bent on, Lecky is convinced, killing him so that it can take possession of the store’s vast spoils.
In a panic, Lecky races to the gun department, arms himself, and hunts down and shoots his adversary. Bleeding and dying, the creature becomes pitiful, whimpering like a lost child.
After it has finally died, Lecky works up the courage to approach the corpse and turns its face to the light[.] It was himself he had shot; he was the monster.
The Walton people, Yertle-like atop the money stack, ought to think about that.
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9 Responses to “Welcome To Walmart”


  1. 1 Elva December 11, 2011 at 4:33 pm

    I am glad I do not shop at Walmart. About the only time I went into the store was to buy my medicine. I found out that my local drug store accepts my prescription card, so I do not have to deal with the parking lot and people at Walmart.

  2. 3 possum December 13, 2011 at 5:29 am

    We in Possum Valley are lucky enough not to have a WalMart close by. We would not shop there in any event but having to travel to the store makes shopping even less attractive.

    These stories of people trying to produce illegal drugs in the store are very sad. That people are reduced to that level of life is a sad commentary on life in these United States.

    • 4 bluenred December 13, 2011 at 10:16 am

      In recent months there has been a lot of talk about “too big to fail.” To me, if your store is so ginormous that people can cook meth in it for six hours without being detected, that says the place is just too damn big.

      • 5 possum December 13, 2011 at 10:51 am

        Ever been in one of those places? They are easily so large one could be lost for days wandering the aisles. And being unnoticed is no surprise given the sparcity of employees and the cavernous space. Too big for sure. They are a blight on our society.

        • 6 bluenred December 13, 2011 at 10:54 am

          There was a time when I frequented the local Walmart, mostly for seeds. (This during a period when I was a serious gardening addict.) But there was always a man at the door, who could not be avoided, who said “Welcome to Walmart.” I can still hear him, there in my head. He was just too scary. I had to stop going there.

          • 7 possum December 13, 2011 at 11:03 am

            His reason for greeting is to keep out the riffraff. Maybe that worked for WalMart and improved your life at the same time. :)

            • 8 bluenred December 13, 2011 at 11:05 am

              Ha! Now I am riffraff. ; )

              • 9 possum December 13, 2011 at 11:12 am

                On the WalMart scale that is a compliment in Possum Valley. Those places attract some scary types like the original subject of the essay. The ones of frightened off are not attractive to WalMart and therefore riffraff by WM definition.


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