This sucks...

     I need a new Shop-Vac.  And, insofar as I'd love to tell you all that my old one expired by dramatically transforming from a once powerful vaccuum into a flaming heap of sucking and wheezing plastic slag, the truth is, I plugged it in, turned it on, and got nothing. 

    So, after wiggling the wires and taking it apart several times in several different ways (one of which included a hammer), I sadly realized that there was nothing more I could do for my beloved "Big Red."  In my heart, I knew that sucking little beast would rather have gone out trying to digest a four-by-eight sheet of drywall or emptying the cats' litter-box in scant seconds; however, in the end, like a character in a Hemingway novel, in spite of its glorious life of workshop machismo, it simply died quietly in its sleep.  And, outside, it rained. 

 

    Anyway, I have but ONE simple requirement for my next Shop-Vac: It must capable of sucking up and devouring the cap from a bottle of beer with as little fuss and protest as possible.  I don't know if this is a testimonial to my somewhat sketchy workshop ethics, or an effective litmus test for pure sucking power.   Nonetheless, it's clear that not only do I need a new Shop-Vac, I now need a six-pack of longnecks.  I love shopping!

 

    Now, after picking up the necessary six beers needed for this quality control endeavor, I came home and did something I rarely ever do, and have never done in persuit of the perfect piece of hardware:  Research!

    

    Getting down to business, I cracked open a bottle, crammed the cap into the pocket of my jeans and hopped online to gather information on my perfect little sucking machine.  Soon after scouring the Shop-Vac website, I found this little monster and my heart swelled, my head spun, and it was clear love was in the air.

 

    Not only can this puppy can suck-start a motorcycle, it can also move an unlimited quantity of water from the toilet to the bathtub with a simple flick of the switch and a garden hose.  It's a miracle!

 

    Imagine my sheer glee upon reading all the wonders of this little beast.  And, with beer in one hand and the mouse clicking happily away in the other, I came to the following and stared blankly at the screen before me like a traumatized fish:

 

        "Where to buy:  Wal-Mart."

 

    "How can this be?" I thought.  My beloved little helper is hidden like a damsel in distress somewhere inside the labyrinthine catacomb of Dante's 9th circle of consumer Hell. 

 

    Why couldn't it have said Wal-Mart & Sears?  Or, Wal-Mart & Ace?  Or even Wal-Mart & Louie's House of American Vaccuum Cleaners in Kyoto, Japan?  Why did it just have to say Wal-Mart and nothing else?

 

    Soon after, panic set in as I realized that I had only bought a meager six-beers, and it's going to take far more than that to get me through the doors of Wal-Mart.  I don't care if the Holy Grail is hidden somewhere between housewares and pet-clothes; the only way to even get me into the parking lot is if I am drunk and blindfolded with a bong hanging out of my mouth and a sucking chest-wound that needs immediate medical attention, and even then, that's iffy because the last thing I want is to be found dead in a Wal-Mart parking lot.  

 

      Fortunately, I have time, and there are several folks out there who owe me a favor or two.  Call me evil, but in this time of crisis, certain sacrifices must be made.  Oh yes!  I will soon find out who my true friends really are.