OH-BITCH-UARY!

"Stop beating on his chest -- it's no use, he's gone!  I'm calling the time of death at...

(Looks at wristwatch)

4:12 PM.

(Bows head in silence, then suddenly looks towards the heavens and yells with anger)

Why this one?  WHY!?"

"I'm very sorry for your loss..."

The sad scenario above took place yesterday afternoon when one of my very best friends -- at whose place I used to spend a lot of my free time -- "passed." This friend's name was Vincent and he was a real saint. Now I realize they always say that about those who leave us too soon, but in this case it's true. See, my "friend" was none other than St. Vincent de Paul -- best known for his amazing thrift store. Oh yeah, and helping poor people and stuff.

This is true, but SVDP also pisses some people off!

The St. Vincent de Paul thrift store, conveniently located in the Lincoln Heights area of Los Angeles, used to be legendary. It was, like me, huge and cheap. Little by little, sections have been closed off and prices have steadily gone up. Suddenly, everything is a rare collectible -- even items that have obviously made their way there from the 99 Cent Only Store. Broken items are priced as if they were in mint condition and knock-offs are given price tags that would barely be acceptable if they were the real thing! And while I'm on the subject, if you run a store that sells old books, records, paintings and/or anything else that people may get excited about and want to purchase, may I kindly suggest that you spend a few pennies more on price stickers that won't ruin EVERYTHING they are fucking stuck on!?  Thank you.

The real sticker shock comes when you realize your item is RUINED!

And you may remember my recent blog post about how, while perusing the racks of womens dresses, I became increasingly more frustrated until I finally exclaimed, "Who's pricing these things? Some retarded faggot!?" To make a long story short, some young emaciated hipster girl with irony-poor blood and no sense of humor, decided to inform me that using "that word" was "offensive". When I gently asked her to which of my two slurs she was referring she indignantly replied, "Both!" I patiently explained to this PC moron that since I was indeed both -- gay AND retarded -- I had every right to say whatever I damn well pleased!  Needless to say, she slunk away like the spineless, carb-phobic lousy-lay she no doubt was!  As they say on "Portlandia" -- PUT A BIRD ON IT!

So, it is with great sadness that I officially announce that the once-amazing treasure hunt known as The St. Vincent de Paul Thrift Store has flat-lined and is, at the very least in a coma, but more than likely is, for all intents and purposes, DEAD!  Beep, beep, beep, beep, beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

Not even Jerry would eat his cereal out of these butt-ugly bowls!

That is unless you're a big fan of cobalt blue glass that looks like it's right off the set of "Seinfeld," horrific faux Native American/lesbian-adjacent moon & stars crap, and/or hideous poly resin angels that would make even the Pope become a motherfuckin' atheist. Oh, and of course, there are always DOZENS of copies of "The DaVinci Code" (who in their right mind buys those bestsellers? Borrow it from a stupid friend, for chrissakes!) If you're into that kind of garbage, then I have some GREAT news: Vincent is still alive and kicking!

You know what?  FUCK OFF, YOU POLY RESIN PIECE OF SHIT!