You have probably read The Divine Comedy. If not, I’m sure you at least heard about it in passing during some college lit course, that is, if you were paying attention to the professor instead of eying the curvy blonde coed or muscle-bound football jock in the next row.

In case, however, you have forgotten it entirely, let me provide a brief refresher:

Dante Alighieri was born in Florence, Italy in May 1265 (Norton, 1987, p. 752). He finished The Divine Comedy shortly before his death in 1321. and the poem is divided into three parts: Hell (Inferno), Purgatory (Purgatorio), and Paradise (Paradiso). “The three divisions of the poem correspond in number to the Trinity, and nine, the square of three, figures centrally in the interior structure of each of the three divisions” (Norton, 1987, p. 753). Finally, in the Inferno, there are nine different circles, most of which are subdivided, and progression is from the least to the greatest type of evil. So that means after you die, the more serious your offenses were while you were alive, the lower the circle to which you are condemned. 

Got that? Okay, then here’s the point I wish to make: although Dante came up with some pretty chilling ideas for punishments in his various circles of hell, I think if he were living in the here-and-now, Dante Alighieri would definitely include A Trip To Wal-Mart, possibly even making it the lowest circle and, therefore, the most extreme form of punishment any poor, tormented soul would ever have to endure. 

“Why?” you ask. Well, in return, I ask, “Have you ever been to Wal-Mart?” Then again, I guess that’s a foolish question, for who among us has not been to Wal-Mart?

Anyway, I went there today, not because I wanted to, given I hate shopping, but because I needed to buy some groceries and Wal-Mart has the cheapest prices in the area (Like you, I need to spread my after-tax dollars as far as they will go, especially since I now have to spend half my paycheck on gas for my vehicle). Well, believe me when I say that entering Wal-Mart was analogous to journeying into the deepest, darkest bowels of hell. There were wall-to-wall people, half of them yakking on cell-phones; screaming kids, out on Christmas vacation and hyped on Christmas candy; acres of under-stocked shelves; a noise level several thousand decimals above ear-splitting; people blocking the aisles with those automated shopping go-carts; and checkout lines that literally went on forever.