Posts filed under ‘Retail Dispatches’

No Alphabet, No Sex


I love how everyone got the genius idea today to buy music for their loved ones, it’s a nice idea, but I want to say, sorry, you’re not getting laid tonight, you’re too stupid. Especially if you’re buying her Mariah Carey.

By the way, don’t tell me you looked for something and couldn’t find it when there are three rows of it right IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE!

But today, my heart goes out to the 12,000 Hurricane Katrina survivors who are now homeless while other chumps used the FEMA money for $450 tattoos, porn, and condos. Maybe next time Cheney should shoot Brownie by accident.


February 14, 2006 at 9:23 pm Leave a comment

No More Fireman For You


At Stupid and Crazy we got an extra rack for our Rap and Dance sections, two of the most crowded in the store. Rap is crowded because there is too many Chopped and Screwed CD’s that do not sell. I guess Philly is not ready for the Tussin Rap explosion yet. We still like our rap fast and loud. DJ Screw died for our sins apparently.

Dance is packed tight because of all the imports we can’t return, and without the aid of my co-worker Rob (who left us for NYC), I am left to figure out the Dance section all by my lonesome, which means I put things up on the Dance listening stations that we have the most copies of, with the most interesting covers, which narrows it down to oh, about nothing.

I bring up the listening station because when I shifted the rap CD’s into the new rack and got to the section in front of the Hot Shit Listening Station (new releases from Lil Wayne, Ludacris, Biggie, MF Doom, Alkaholiks, Juelz Santana), the empty racks looked like the tables at Wendy’s after lunch hour. They were filled with sunflower seed casings, chewed-up lollipop sticks, potato chip crumbs, I mean just triflin. No other listening station in the entire store looks like that, and I’m not trying to say anything untoward about our African-American clientele, as the R&B and Gospel l.s.’s are in reasonable condition.

We got scanners a couple of months ago, and since the scanners don’t work for imports and new releases that are a month or two old, I try to put those titles in the conventional listening stations, especially in rap, when something is considered old after it’s been out for ten minutes. And this is the thanks I get? I almost want to shut down the Hot Shit Listening Station and put up a sign that says: “I’m not your mama! Clean up after your triflin selves or no more bangin beats for you!”

I’m trying to be patient and understanding since Coconuts shut down this week, the only other rekkid store in our neck of the woods, and the place that sells the most forgotten things in the music industry: cassettes. So lots of people are wandering in, as if they were just transported by a Delorean from 1989 or so, and utterly crestfallen at our lack of cassette/Walkmen selection. I can’t typecast them. They are young and old, male and female, black and white, homeless and healthy. They are from the Land of the Lost and I have no answers for them.

February 12, 2006 at 7:11 pm Leave a comment



One of the rap section’s most avid listeners is a man I’ll call MC Mumbles. He is about five feet tall and his coat is ten feet tall. He is either 20 or 40. He likes to rap loudly while wearing headphones, but his flow is like Frankenstein. It goes sort of like: “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…mmmaaaaaaaaaa…naaaaaaaaaaa.” One week, he was really feeling the Lil Wayne CD, so his rap was, “Firemaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan, firemaaaaaaaaaaaaaan, naaaaaaaaaaah naaaaaaaaaaah.” He’s really loud and annoying. Everyone, and I mean, past, current, and future employees and customers of Stupid & Crazy have told this guy to shut the fuck up already, even the regular crazies think he’s out of hand. MC Mumbles will stop, kind of like the band taking a break before their four song encore, walk around the store and come back. Unfortunately the rap section is right near my desk, so the temptation to punch him out is real. And, I think I could take him.

Other strangeness in the rap section. A man walking through with a pager of some kind that sounded like Darth Vader breathing. Why would you want to walk around listening to that all damn day? You Darth, where you at? I’m buyin CD’s, where you at?


January 12, 2006 at 11:33 pm Leave a comment

Groundhog Day


Ever since I wrote about Mr Natural, he’s been in the store every day, with the same magnifying glass and the same dirty S&C bags. I’m beginning to feel like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. I can almost predict when he will show up.

I also want to talk about a certain subset of my fans that I call The Hi Brigade. I have nothing wrong with strange men saying hi to me, even if they are quite strange. I’ll say hi to anyone and then give them a chance to frighten me. That’s probably my first mistake. Hi Brigade Member #1 visits the store every morning. He doesn’t buy anything, he doesn’t stop to listen. He just sort of makes his rounds, and says hi, and asks me how I’m doing.
Hi Brigade #2 visits about once a week, will say hi to me like 100 times, and then ask for something. When I tell him where it is, he will just stop in whatever row he happens to be standing in and ask, “Over here?” After about the second row of this I have to stop what I’m doing and show him the incredibly hard thing to find, like say, Michael Jackson (about half of Rock/Pop “J” is Michael, the other half is Billy Joel and Elton John). One afternoon he started with his barrage of “hi’s” and I asked, what do you need today. And he was totally taken aback, startled, like I’d told him to go fuck himself. And he was like, I just wanted to know how you doin.

Hi Brigade Number 3 stops in about once a month, covered in paint. I don’t know if he is really a painter or only owns one paint colored outfit. I’ve heard conflicting reports from my co-workers. He has a nice smile but tends to smell in the warmer months. Of these three members, he is the most affable of the Hi Brigade. We had some normal conversation before he just came out and said, “You married?” I told him I was spoken for and since then, he is respectful and just makes normal conversation and doesn’t bug me when I’m busy.

I mean, I can empathize. In my single days, which at this point to me are like talking about the day we landed on the moon, I gawked at many cute boys in record stores, but at least I would stare when they were not looking at me and only ask them normal questions.
So gentleman, the moral of this story is, if you see a record store gurl that you like, please say hi and attempt normal conversation (like, about music, preferably since you’re in a freakin record store?) Do not put on the headphones and pretend to listen to music when you are so obviously waiting for me to bend over so you can stare at my butt. I’m totally onto you. And all I can say is, while it’s flattering that my 36-year-old, couch-sitting, cable watching ass gets any attention at all, still, ew.

On a completely unrelated topic, John talks about gay haikus.

January 11, 2006 at 7:56 pm 2 comments

Stupid and Crazy Customer Trading Cards

Mr Natural


Also called The Garden Gnome.
He is about four feet tall. He comes into the store every day with a full, very dirty S&C shopping bag filled with CD’s. He pores over every CD, including the same ones that have been sitting on the carts waiting to be filed and the import clearance section with a magnifying glass. He pretty much only buys oldies and will order one of nine million Buddy Holly CD’s that we don’t have and then not leave his phone number. He smells very bad. He announces how much money he’s spent on CD’s but can’t afford shampoo, soap, or detergent. He looks like he’s been riding the rails but some of the clerks say that he owns a rowhome in Northeast Philly. Getting into a conversation with him is the worst, because he will either say something gross or answer a question with “Whut? Whut? Whut?” This happens repeatedly while you are answering him. When I see him I try to hide; it’s like coming home to cockroaches scurrying in your kitchen. Fortunately I don’t have that problem in my current home, but this is how badly Mr Natural creeps me out.

January 7, 2006 at 6:59 pm Leave a comment

Do You Work Here?

Can that phrase be banned in 2006? It is not a conversation-starter, not now or ever. It tells me in the first two seconds that you are a moron. When I’m carrying 17 copies of Fiona Apple and filling up Juelz Santana and holding a handcart and a box lot of The Strokes, what do you think? People also ask me if I’m an employee of other retail establishments when I’m just shopping. Do I give off a vibe of willing retail servitude or what?

Random thoughts: music is not my life anymore. Not that I don’t get excited about music related things or do music related things, I’m just not excited about writing Pazz and Jop comments — even playing the cranky card. I’m just not that cranky anymore.

January 3, 2006 at 9:49 pm Leave a comment

Happy Holidaze, Stupid and Crazy


I haven’t done an S&C retail dispatch in a while. So here you go, a couple of gems:

“Y’all got the new Kanye West?”

“Yes, it’s in rap, under W.”

“Why don’t you have it up front? It’s brand new.”

“Because it came out in August.”

“No I said Jamie Foxx. Where you get Kanye West from?”

“I just heard a song today. Can you help me find it? ‘Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii’ll be home for Chriiiiiiiiiistmas…'”

“Do you know who does it? A lot of people have done that song.”

“No… goes, ‘Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii’ll be home for Chriiiiiiiiiiiiiistmas…”

“How about Bing Crosby?”

“Nope that’s not it.”

Hours later, we heard the Bing Crosby version on Now That’s What I Call Christmas. I hope dude made it home for Christmas.

Things that we sold out of:
Scream Tour DVD
Neil Young
Jackson 5 Christmas
Salsoul Orchestra Christmas (Note, people who ask for this have very pronounced Philadelphia accents).
Strangest search on this blog: “does bow wow have armpit hair”

December 24, 2005 at 8:22 pm 1 comment

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