Note, the events described took place on September 5, 2026

Part 1: Pregaming retail therapy

Going out for some more retail therapy with the hubby…we actually blocked out some time, but I had a few things to do first. One, clip digital coupons for the warehouse club that we go to. (Note: The hubby and I have been getting a little paranoid lately because of all the problems in America, the Ukraine, and the Middle East. We have been not hoarding, per se…but going overstock on certain things we need just in case we need to hunker down. Canned items, cleaning supplies, emergency freeze-dried food, batteries, and so on.) Okay, coupons digitally clipped…if there is something that we need when we see it, I can search with my phone and see if there is a coupon for it (and clip it right then and there.) I print out the coupon list on our Hewlett-Packard OfficeJet Pro 9015 printer (which Dan bought without my input, he just went with HP because I said so,) staple it together with a Swingline desktop stapler (in beige, not red sadly. Big “Office Space” fan here,) and go on to the next step. (While this is going on, I am consuming cannabis gummies and cannabis-infused cola, this is important later in the narrative. I have social anxiety on top of a mild case of agoraphobia, and cannabis helps me deal with it. – PDB) On to part 2.

Part 2: Papabear’s ablutions

Now that the clipping is done, it’s time to make Papabear presentable. I usually go a couple of days between showers, given that I am pretty much home most of the time now. (That goes into my sense of paranoia that I have been feeling given all the news that has flooded the airwaves and the Internet. I’ll come back to that in a bit.) Into the shower my fat ass goes. (Stop imagining me naked, you pervs!) I had to unwrap another bar of Irish Spring (my soap of choice) because I wanted to get clean. Hot water always. Scrub my body, get the stink off. Next, rinse my mouth out with Walmart store brand cool mint Listerine. Then, the pièce de résistance…shampoo. Now this fat old man has been growing his hair out for a long time…and I have been wearing a big beard on and off for the past 31 years. Suave 2-in-1 for men, I don’t waste fucking time (it goes back to before I retired from BCI, and would have to get up at 3:15 am to get ready to be at work at 5:00 am.) A nice hot shower is one of the simplest pleasures you should NEVER deny yourself, and it gets you in a good frame of mind. The cleansing complete, it’s time to dry off and gear up. Safety orange Buckeye Corrugated t-shirt (used to get them for free every year before I retired, and they didn’t cheap out on them.) Black Stanley rip-stop work shorts, held up by black suspenders (my pants slip down if I wear a belt.) White AND1 ankle socks and my black Sketchers Slip-Ins (damn, they’re comfortable.) (And no, I did NOT go “commando,” I wore underwear. Pervs.) Then to accessorize. Casio WaveCeptor watch on left wrist, wallet in my back pocket, keys and vape in my right front pocket, smartphone (Galaxy S20 5G) in my left pocket. (Trust me, having a smartphone is necessary when shopping with Dan. I swear to fucking god, he has the ability to conjure up a wormhole and transport himself and the cart to another section of the store. Usually I will call him, and politely ask where he is. If I am pissed off though, then I text him “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU???” Tie my hair back? Nah, I channel my inner hippy and let the hair flow. And a hat of course, it was between my camo BCI hat, and my denim bear paw (in pride colors) hat. The bear paw won out. On to part 3.

Part 3: The Trip To The Wholesale Club

Now that I am clean and fit for human consumption, it’s time to go to the warehouse club (oh alright, I will tell you which one it is, and it ain’t Costco (although I like going there also.)) Don’t snicker, don’t laugh…it’s BJ’s Wholesale Club. (And your filthy minds just kicked in. Pervs. Stop watching “Beavis & Butthead.) I climb into the Compass in the passenger side and Dan starts the car and drops it into drive. (Note, at this time the cannabis that I consumed earlier is starting to kick in, and I become a bit more…loquacious. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. – PDB)

Because of the Interstate 81 viaduct/clusterfuck that is ongoing, Dan decided to take the long way around to East Syracuse (where the warehouse club is located,) which is to pick up Interstate 481 (which will become part of 81 when the viaduct becomes fully operational) and go the long way around to pick up Interstate 690, which will take us to the Bridge Street exit that the warehouse club is located on. Basically, 11 miles from where we live. I ask Dan to change the satellite radio to the 70’s station, because a Michael Jackson song came on, and we both are sick of hearing him on the 80’s channel. (Nothing against him per se, just that we’re both sick of hearing his music on constant rotation on the 80’s channel. Way to go, SiriusXM.) But like we usually do, we make conversation. About what? Usually I drive the conversation in the car, and for the past few years it usually winds up being about politics. I tend to keep up with politics a lot more than Dan does (you can thank MeidasTouch, Michael Popok, Jack Cocchiarella, Brian Tyler Cohen, and David Pakman for that.) I’ve become downright obsessive about keeping politically aware since Trump’s first term. Basically, I caught Dan up with the latest efforts of Trump to fuck with mail-in voting and being slapped down by The Supremes time and time again, even though the court skews conservative (which in Trump’s addled mind means that they’re in his pocket.) Oh, and we talk about Pete Kegbreath (oops Hegseth) and his efforts to “reshape” the military. (Like getting rid of *qualified* military officers, because they expose all his shortcomings as a leader.) Okay, enough of that…we’re at BJ’s (stop the goddamn snickering, you pervs.)

Part 4: Finally, At The Wholesale Club!

The objective has been reached…and we step into a clusterfuck. Parking lot filled, the cart corral is seriously down in available carts. We get a cart, and step into what I can call “retail paradise.” No glaring neon, the only noise is emanating from the MASSIVE HDTV displays. (Dan looks at me and says one word… “No.” He knew I was looking at the 85” OLED sets.) There was a display for Tide detergent pods, and sure enough I had a coupon for it. Game on. On the last BJ’s run, I had purchased AA and AAA batteries. Since the in-store coupon was still valid, I purchased C and D cells. You never know when you need them. The next hour was an exercise in “do we need it,” and the answer is usually “yes.” Now, given that our rug-wearing, fake spray-tan, narcissist who resides at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue decided to get into a pissing match with our neighbors to the north over tariffs and considering that the majority of our paper products are made with Canadian timber, Dan and I both agreed that we should double our stocks of paper towels and toilet paper just to be prudent. And of course, I had store coupons for them. Berkley-Jensen (BJ’s store brand) and Charmin.  (We both remembered the run on towels and TP during the pandemic, and the “prepper persona” kicked in at that moment and we both decided it would be prudent to stock up on the paper products and batteries. – PDB) Next up, cleaning supplies. More laundry detergent, more Oxi-Clean, more Palmolive dish detergent (it softens hands while you do dishes.) Once we collected all the non-food items we need, we move on to the grocery section, which is my favorite part of shopping here. Dan picks up a package of boneless and skinless chicken breasts (he divides them up and individually wraps them and then puts them in the chest freezer that we have downstairs in the cellar.) Better With Cheddar sausages, and a two pound tub of cottage cheese (my choices.) Single-serve packages of Frito-Lay snacks in a 30 pack. Same thing with cookies, normally I would grab a couple of party size packages of Oreos at Wallyworld or Price Chopper, but this time it was Fig Newtons and Lorna Doone shortbread cookies. (I’ve been restricting myself in terms of snacks, and portion control is the way to go.) 8-pack of diced tomatoes, an 8-pack of Amy’s Organics lentil and vegetable lentil soups (mainly because I like lentil soup and of course, I have a coupon for it.) And Dan then reminds me about the coffee, and since I have coupon for Maxwell House (not a coffee snob here) in the cart it goes. Now we’re getting into the personal care (what used to be called health and beauty aids) section of the store, and the only thing on the list is body wash, (Dan prefers it over bar soap.) But then I spy with my astigmatic eye…DARK CHOCOLATE SEA SALT CARAMELS! (Oh yeah, Papabear is gonna get those!) Now to the checkout. The one thing that Dan is adamant about is going to a regular checkout, and not the self-scan. (I have no problem with it, but we did have a rather full cart.) Checkout goes smoothly, and then the final total comes up: $424.00. Another chunk outta my Visa card (it’s not a credit card, it’s a debit card. I don’t buy things unless I have the cash available to cover it.) Now to play automotive Tetris, which means put everything into the ass end of the Compass. Didn’t put the seats down this time, because we didn’t have a lot of bulky stuff aside from the paper products which went in the back seat.

And we get to the final chapter in this retail therapy post:

Part 5: The Trip Home and Subsequent Unpacking

The trip home was a little different. Instead of going Interstate 481, we take Interstate 690 to the exit that is on our way home. More talk about politics in general. I pop a couple of Altoids in my mouth, take some hits off my vape (nicotine, not cannabis) and just have a leisurely drive home. But the challenge is yet to come…unloading the Compass. First step, unlock the front door. Second step, locate the orange and white menace and restrict him to one room (usually it’s the upstairs half-bath but in this case it was Dan’s bedroom.) Final step, prop the front doors open so we can move things from the car to the house efficiently. (The reason I restricted BeBe to one room, that way he doesn’t get underfoot and/or try to escape through the front door. Also, we have to move things down to the cellar and he has a tendency to sneak downstairs when we aren’t looking, and then I have to shake the container of Temptations (a cat treat) to lure him back upstairs.) Finally, we can relax. I get a cup of decaf from the Keurig, park my ass in front of my workstation, finish the cigar that I had going before we went shopping, and log in and catch up with our world in crisis.

Part 6: The Final Synopsis

Why am I writing this? Well, we all have to have coping mechanisms in these uncertain times. Mine is writing (always have been a bit of a literary bastard, and besides, I took writing courses when I was in college.) Dan has needlepoint, and he listens to r/slash on YouTube. We both have shopping, making sure that we are prepared when the shit really hits the fan. I am starting to believe that when it does, it won’t be an outside enemy that precipitates having to bug out at a moment’s notice, but civil unrest that will cause everyone to hunker down and ride it out. That is what I have been prepping for, and I managed to get Dan on board with it.

Again, I may be reading too much in the current state of this fragile world we live it, but with the current leadership (what a fucking joke) we have right now, a president who is trying to remake Washington into a replica of his shithole in Mar-A-Lago, a secretary of defense who has the position because HE LOOKS GOOD ON TV, a FBI director who couldn’t investigate himself out of a paper bag, and has his own brand of booze (shades of Trump Vodka anyone) and an attorney general who constantly drags his feet in regards to the Epstein files and complying with court orders. And now that we have a populous that is getting sick and tired of all the fucking shenanigans coming out of Washington, which has been reflected in polling numbers across the political spectrum that show that the American public in general is pretty sick and fucking tired of the constantly changing rhetoric that indicative of a president who DOESN’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK HE IS DOING!

Okay, that is all I have to report on, basically retail therapy is just another escape from the shitty world that we are currently experiencing. Or is it? PapaDeanBear, signing off for now.

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(c) 2026, Dean A. Basler Jr., all rights reserved.