I wish that David Bowie, in his infinite wisdom, would have crafted a “Elixir of the Senses Common” (to be taken twice before bed, and every five minutes thereafter, ad infinitum). But alas, perhaps even the greatest of our race have their lapses. Regardless, there is still a surprising amount of ire concerning receipts and the mechanisms that cause them to checked. It’s shocking, really. All this fuss over a piece of paper that, in and of itself, has no monetary value and carries no legal weight — except to those who claim that their rights have been “violated” as a result of their refusal to produce it; that receipt-checking treats people like thieves and looks, indiscriminately, for bad behavior. However, neither the resistance nor the insistence are truly so important that they demand legal review or mass movements. I just wish someone would realize that. It really is just a receipt.

It is worth noting that there are only two stores at which my receipt has been checked, here in Houston. The first is Sam’s Club, Ye Old Wholesale Membership Warehouse Of Jesus Ponies Everything. The second is Fry’s Electronics — a store that intelligently put about five hundred miniature items, candy bars, food stuffs, and humping-dog USB devices between the cashiers and the exit. Maybe it was a move in hindsight? Because those humping dogs are apparently the bee’s knees.

So why the martyrdom? Why the melodrama? Why rail against receipt-checking when there’s a far more successful force at work in the battle to make you look stupid? It’s doubtful whether or not the anti-receipt pirates have become well-acquainted with self-checkout machines, but I can assure you that if Joseph Stalin and Pol Pot ever raised a child together, that child would have been cloned and shipped away to grocery stores around the country. I have affectionately named this creature “Sgt. Bastard.”

There are several problems that I have with these abominations:

1. They’re slow.
2. There is never enough space. Ever. Most machines allow for several small items. Since you have to bag them yourself, and since you can only really access three/four bags at a time, you’re very limited in what you can purchase at one go.
3. The machine is loud. Because these machines are increasingly popular, most people prefer to wait for a self-checkout line rather than go to a soon-to-be-available cashier. So when the machine basically yells at its incompetence through you, everyone hears.
4. The machine gets angry! You can’t move your items from the weighing platform (where you bag the goods to begin with) until you’ve completed your transaction. If you are too slow, or perhaps, new to the machines, the devil-spawn knows it and instantly shouts out an agitated “Please put the item IN THE BAG.” Like, “Oh no! They’ll steal the bananas!” And if it gets really upset, it disables itself and calls for a cashier. That’s right — the self-checkout machine. Independence, my ass.

So tell me again, my crazy democracy-nouveau chums, what’s the big deal? Show your receipt and get on with life — because if you’re a fan of the self-checkout, you should probably kiss that and all of your dignity goodbye.