Mall walking at Plan 9 Music

Mall walking at Plan 9 Music
Mood: party time!
If the prospect of listening to Muzak while getting your walk on makes you nauseous, try mall walking at Plan 9 records on Cary Street in da heart of Carytown. Who needs an iPod? Plan 9 has a clean sound system, they have the good sense not to play it too loud, and djs with excellent taste, providing a soundtrack to your life that will give you happy feet. "American Disgrace" was playing when I walked in the door, heh, heh. I wonder if they're trying to tell me something, or maybe it's just sick-chronicity. All you have to do is bring in some records or DVDs to sell downstairs. Because they are inefficient or too successful or both, you wind up waiting 10 minutes to several hours. Use that time to figure out whether there's enough business to support another record store in the area, look for fire code violations, or wander the aisles upstairs checking out the hot alt.babes with killer bods and an outrageous sense of style that will melt your eyebrows. Usually you'll find something really cool to take home with you. If you want to take something really bored home with you, proposition a salesperson. I asked if they stocked three fairly esoteric items and none of them were in stock. Obviously, they could use more space. They have the same problem I had with my apartment: no matter how ingenious you are, there's only so much crap you can squeeze into any given space. There's no way to go but up, to the top of the poppermost. I got a GG Allin button for the editor of a punk zine I trade with, "My Fat Irish Ass." "Die when you die," GG said, which makes Allin pretty zen as well as dead. Hey, let's wake up Jerry Garcia and ask him if he's grateful that he's dead! Speaking of fat ethnic asses, I got an "The All-American Rejects" T-shirt from Doghouse Records (more synchronicity) marked down to $8.99 from $14.99 for Ms. Giraffe. It should fit her to a T, heh, heh. An appropriate shirt since she made a stand-up career out of whining about how she was mistreated in high school. I'm afraid she will be indie until the day she dies. She'll probably be buried in a Ramones t-shirt. This also allowed me to walk around the store letting the customers and staff know what I think of them. I'll probably buy some more Plan 9 t-shirts for her - she already has one - assuming I don't overload her circuits - or Plan 9's - which I keep trying to do but haven't succeeded yet. What can I say? The lady is a champ. The dingehole of a building that Plan 9 inhabits is assessed at $620,000. Word on the street is that a former owner was pulling down $200 large a year before he sold out (along with the Who). While we're on the subject, nTelos is using "Volunteers of America" for an cellular ad, in case you ever wondered when the music died and the sixties finally and irrevocably had a stake put through its heart. Unless it was the first time you heard Bob Dylan in a dentist's chair... I guess Grace Slick needed to pay her tab at the liquor store.) Punk reaches its final solution: look poor, get rich, with DIY standing for double your investors' yield. Hey, I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac.