DREW (@averagedrew):

I figured all these years of literally every cheer mom and cool dad I know pronouncing it ” Tar-zshay” would, if anything, turn Target into some kinda scared French bread shop, but I stand corrected. I guess it made it a classy establishment – with balls. Well done!

But your Aunt Tammy sure is gonna miss the big red box store. And why wouldn’t she? What a magical place it is.

First of all she is gonna miss buying a latte and a hot dog on the way in at the Pizza Hut/Starbucks/minor league baseball concession stand restaurant. Has there ever been a more “one of these things is not like the others” situation? What IS that?

“Here are two international and well known establishments you know and love and also this place that sells carnie food.”

How the other half lives, apparently.

Aunt Tammy always gets her grande no-fat soy latte one sugar and “please spell my name correctly” before she starts shopping. The caffeine makes her feel alive and she won’t apologize for that. The carnie food hot dog is just her special little treat. She’s had a weak spot for them since she was a little girl because she’s always thought talking to carnies counts as having minority friends. Plus it’s is the only thing she’ll eat today until she allows herself half a salad to go with a whole bottle of white zinfandel she will have while watching the Good Wife and being ignored by your Uncle Jim.

I’d like to point out that I do carry some sympathy for the folks who are boycotting Target. It must be hard to be that angry all the damn time. And the real tragedy is they’re likely gonna die that way – mad. Imagine walking around your last day on Earth just FURIOUS about where “sissy boys are peeing” instead of loving your family. Your heart skips two beats on account of all the fried food you’ve said “yes” to throughout the years and bam, heart attack. Your last thought was “damnit all to hell why can’t they just be normal?!”

Aunt Tammy is also gonna miss the little dollar kids section near the front of the stores. Walking by it wistfully, she always thinks about how she wishes her kids would get married and give her grand kids, so she’d have someone in her life who isn’t too cynical to love her. It probably wont happen. Judith, her daughter, is a career woman living in Atlanta and let’s be honest, kind of a slut. At least that’s what the ladies at church say when they think Tammy can’t hear ’em. But a slut on birth control.

Now  her son, Billy, well, no one is trying real hard to marry a grown man whose greatest ambition is to “own a sweet speed boat” and wear a Fox Racing T-shirt every day. Tammy figures if he did have kids it would be with some Waffle House waitress who would just try and get all of her money anyway. I mean it’s Jim’s money on account of she don’t work, but they share everything, except loving embraces.

Sigh. She sure will miss that section.

Personally, I just can’t fathom what the endgame is for boycotting Target. They’re so successful they could adopt a “pee on whatever you want in front of everyone” policy and sales might dip a dollar or two. I can hear corporate now:

“Boss, some folks are saying they won’t shop with us anymore because of the bathroom thing.”

– “Is it affecting sales?”

“Well sales of Nicholas Sparks books have frozen, but we literally can’t keep glitter, high heels, or cheap lipstick on the shelves.”

– “It’s the drag queens, Johnson. I knew they’d save us. That’s why I’m the Boss. Now bring me a steak.”

“Yes sir.”

“They think we care about them!”

More than anything, what Aunt Tammy will miss is the Target culture. That’s right the CULTURE by God. Target wasn’t for just anyone, it was for HER and her ilk. Meandering through the aisles a slow clip, checking for sweet deals, Target is where she and her kind came to fellowship.

“Is that Sally,” she’d think to herself trying to focus her eyes across the Boys section to the edge of the Electronics. “She looks like she has gained weight. I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Talking to Sally, laughing with Gail from the women’s prayer group about Karen from the women’s prayer group, and just feeling at home – that’s what Target was to her. The poorer women would hurry right to the clearance rack. And good for them. It isn’t their fault their husbands aren’t as successful as Jim is, with his construction business. Sure he’s out of town a lot, and there was that time she broke into his phone that she’s blocked out of her mind forever, but at least they have security.

Of course, the biggest irony of this whole thing, and why Aunt Tammy KNOWS the Devil is involved is that, she sure is gonna miss the bathrooms. The stalls were spacious, the antibacterial floors were clean, and lighting made her look skinnier. How is she supposed to feel calm and relaxed in there now knowing some freak is next to her probably rubbing his genitals to a Broadway musical? To be fair, she loves her gay friend Danny, who is a bartender at the marina where Jim keeps the boat. He always tells her she’s pretty and one time she went to his drag show and that was fun. Those men were skinnier than her; but hell that’s half the problem.

There don’t need to be any freaks or pervs in that bathroom! It just isn’t fair. There was no better place in the whole world to vomit up that hot dog and also usually have to deal with what the coffee had done to her guts. She used to emerge from that bathroom lighter, brighter, and knowing she’d saved so much money on cleaning supplies she would have enough left over to buy a Xanax from Danny. Now, she’s just gonna be stressed and upset!

“I’ll just have to pray for America,” she thinks. “And shop at Wal-Mart, I guess.”

She shudders. “Now THAT is an abomination against God.”

On that, Aunt Tammy, we agree.

COREY (@coreyfcomedy):

OSB editor note: apparently Corey has a real Aunt Tammy. He assumed we all did (which makes sense because who doesn’t?) and that the assignment was to just ask her how she felt about all this. Enjoy.

This whole Target mess has thrown my Aunt Tammy for a complete loop. “What’s this world coming to?” “This is the devil’s work!” “Why can’t I wear sweatpants to a funeral? Sumbitch is dead, he ain’t gonna know!” are things she has screamed at me this week between drags of Pall malls and cracking walnuts between her toes to show off her Beauty Pageant talent.

Target isn’t just a store for my Aunt Tammy, it’s a sign of class. It is a symbol for those who are proud to be past their Wal-Mart roots.. Because Target is for people who used to go to Wal-Mart but have since had their husband Terry win a settlement when the conveyer belt at work took his ring finger. Target is as much a social club as it is a hub for Stepford Wife Commerce. Target is the equivalent of a men’s locker room for women. That’s why all Targets put the electronic section in the back of the store – it draws the men away from what’s really going on. While we are in the back drooling over the fact that the new Expendables dropped on DVD, the women are up front having a Bottled-Blonde Illuminati meeting covering such pressing topics like “How can we get him to put the seat back down?” or “How many body wraps do I need to sell before I can leave Corey and bang all his friends?”

Having trouble catching the eye of that serial killer across the hall? Have we got a product for you!

I could go on and on, but hell, I’ll just let Aunt Tammy take over:

“I just don’t know whats wrong with this country. Aint like it was when I was a kid. Back in the good ole days, ya know? The world was such a wholesome place. You’d never have to worry about a man with some titties taking a wee-wee next to your baby girl. I mean, yeah, we was spraying black folks with water hoses but I mean shit, they knew they weren’t supposed to go in that restaurant and knowing them they probably needed a bath too. I just don’t understand it ya know? Now look, I aint a racist or a bigamist or whatever the shit it’s called, I just think there are some things that you should keep to yourself. I think it’s fine if you wanna tuck your ding dong in and squeeze into a halter top.. That’s fine, but keep it at home. Now given, I weigh 300 lbs and think it’s completely fine to wear bicycle shorts to a coffee shop while you’re trying not to puke up your biscotti, but I don’t really see what that has to do with the price of eggs in china.

Back in my day there wasn’t even such a thing as gay people.. And before you say anything, everyone knows Elton John didn’t start sucking weiner until the 80’s and save for his serenade of that British whore, his best work was behind him. It just wasn’t around, we had Jesus.. Something I know i’ll probably GET ARRESTED FOR SAYING.

He just went out for cigarettes! Any day now!

Used to you could walk safely down the street without seeing two women holding hands, a bearded man in a dress or a Puerto Rican – but in the current state of Political correctness we live in it seems like we have traded our backbone in for a strap-on! Political correctness is what this all boils down to. I can’t go to my beloved Target anymore because a group of queer loving, participation trophy getting, complicated coffee ordering millennial fucks have decided to bend over backwards to make sure they don’t offend anyone.. It’s disgusting! Back in my day we were too busy making America great to give a shit about the rights of people who, let’s face it, hold us back in the pursuit of capitalism. Like people with polio… hell, if their parents had not conceived them at at a fondue/key party, maybe the lord wouldn’t have stricken their legs with the cripple.

I guess what I’m saying is that I’m going to miss having a place that I could gather amongst fellow like minded folk. People who understand that Jimmy Carter belongs in hell and that gluten free pasta was planted here by satan to convert our teenagers into faggots. I miss my Target. I miss my America.”

Ok yall, In my Aunt Tammy’s defense, Target used to be a lot different. If you had grown up going to the Target she went to you may feel a little bit differently about things, you don’t know. It’s a generational thing.

(^^^And that’s the same logic we use to defend our grandparents calling Obama the N- Word^^^)
Have a good Sundy, Yall!