Wal-Mart for President

I'll admit it: Until only very recently, anytime I'd pass a Wal-Mart I'd fire my imaginary laser gun that's mounted on my hood. The laser beam makes big box stores disappear. A comforting, low-grade hum is all you hear, like sending a fax to Kingdom Come. All gone. Then, this giant, tree-covered green toupee falls to the earth and takes its place.

I'd usually toss in a few cows to hold it all down like paperweights, and then my work would be done. All in all, a clean operation. No one got hurt.

What can I say: A fella has to dream.

Last week, I had a different kind of dream — a sleep dream. I had dozed off listening to the State of the Union. In my dream, my car broke down along a barren stretch of highway. And who pulls up, but the ghost of Wal-Mart founder Sam Walton. He was so kind, actually. And handy. And he had tools!

"Where are you heading?" he asked, lifting my hood.

"Just down the road apiece to laser beam a Wal-Mart," I said, realizing at once my faux pas. He fiddled with some wires, tightened the fuel line and wire brushed the spark plug. And sure enough, the engine fired. "How can I thank you?" I asked.

"Son, follow me." So I did. In the next town, we located the Wal-Mart.

I was preparing the laser when I noticed Mr. Walton waving me inside. I followed him in. (Wow, did you realize Wal-Mart sells Prince Lionhart Ultimate Baby Wipe Warmers for only $19.99 each? Holy cow!) Amidst the agglomerate, I found myself in electronics. A bulwark of Magnavox TVs were tuned to the State of the Union. Only, it wasn't President Bush. It was Wal-Mart CEO Lee Scott delivering his annual State of the Wal-Mart speech. In the place of the presidential seal was a yellow smiley face.

"There are a number of issues facing the world that will profoundly affect our lives and our company," Scott was saying. "I'm talking to you about issues like international trade, climate change, water shortages, social and economic inequalities, infrastructure and foreign oil."

"Whoa," I thought. "Who the heck slipped Skittles into Wal-Mart's oatmeal?"

"Don't you understand?" the ghost of Sam Walton told me. "In the last few years, while the White House was ignoring anti-war activists, Wal-Mart was listening to consumer activists. While the United States was squandering its power abroad, Wal-Mart was marshaling its powers for the greater good. Unlike the world's only superpower, the world's largest retailer is focusing on issues people actually care about."

"Like affordable meds?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Like reducing energy consumption?"

"We have no choice," he said.

"This is all diabolical," I said.

"Listen. There is only one boss," he said. "The customer."

"You mean, the citizen," I said.

"Right."

Everything started to make sense. Wal-Mart's end run began during Hurricane Katrina. While FEMA officials were picking tiramisu from their teeth, Wal-Mart became the hero, delivering emergency supplies to the afflicted.

Now, with Lee Scott looking presidential, the plan was nearly complete. Wal-Mart was taking over! For years, it has been financing the campaigns of the most inept politicians who then take office to showcase how inept government is. So then shoppers (er, citizens) are practically lighting tiki torches ($8.99 each) and calling for rolled-back government the same way they call for rolled-back prices. Meanwhile, Wal-Mart becomes the model of efficiency, the default superpower, the one American entity left with leverage in the world.

While I was thinking of all this and eyeing the baby wipe warmers, the ghost of Sam Walton had managed to slip a red vest on me. Funny thing: It looked kinda stylish. Especially under all the compact florescent bulbs that now light Wal-Mart. While greeting shoppers at the entrance, I yelled back to Mr. Walton, "Hey, I'm willing to completely mistrust the government and begin trusting Wal-Mart, but what if you let me down?"

"Then you can file a complaint with — "

He must have said, "Human resources," but I swear he said, "My defense minister."