Over the weekend I found myself (as I often do) at Lowe's. It's not that I ever really need anything from Lowe's, but sometimes it's just fun to wander around in there and look at light fixtures. I look at it in the same way my friend Matt used to talk about Petsmart. "Sometimes, when you have a few extra minutes to kill, it's fun to go in there... it's like a free trip to the zoo!" Only, with Lowe's, it's like an open house... only in a really big house with entirely too many appliances and only one bathroom.

On this trip to Lowe's I noticed something rather surprising. Did you know that Lowe's has someone on staff to translate whatever language it is that you happen to speak into English? There's a cardboard stand-up at the customer service counter with about sixteen different languages listed, ranging from Arabic to characters that sincerely must be Martian. According to this informative and decorative information disbursement unit, customers are to point to the language of their choosing and someone will come to assist you by translating said language and thus allowing you to purchase a nifty set of solar powered yard lights that won't actually illuminate anything, but are good for the environment.

Who knew that Lowe's was blazing such new ground in cultural acceptance? Could Lowe's be the multicultural epicenter of Lexington? A foreign embassy to wayward travelers in need of stapleguns and propane?

Well, that may be a stretch, but it's still interesting. As I stood there, awestruck, I started to really think about the matter. Is there REALLY someone in the back that, with the press of a button, could come to the aid of someone desperately needing to purchase a deadbolt but who's purchasing power is hindered by their ability to only communicate in Farsi? If that's the case, then how exactly did this person end up working at the Lowe's just off of Nicholasville Rd.?

"I studied for years, often in the jungles of Africa, to perfect my Ndebele. Now, with those skills firmly planted in my mind, I'm finally prepared to pull on that blue smock and sell toilets with pride!" I was never aware that Lowe's had such high standards, but I demand that my next case of light bulbs be sold to me in Latin.

On an unrelated note, I can't stand Christmas music.

Now, I'm not talking about the occasional Bing Crosby tune or the pleasant sound of Christmas Caroling... I'm talking about that crap on the radio. I can assure you that if I hear John Mellancamp belting out "I saw mamma kissin' ol' Santa Claus" one more time I may just put on a dress and climb a clocktower with a high powered rifle... there'll be rain on the scarecrow, but blood on the Santa suit.

Honestly, I'm not a bah-humbug type, I really enjoy Christmas. However, by the time that you rush out to grab that last gift item, get flipped off by some guy in a Santa hat and enter the world of gladiatorial combat that is Hamburg Pavillion it gets easy to lose the spirit. Compound that with the damned Chipmunks singing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" for the fiftieth time and it becomes increasingly easy to see why holiday suicide rates are so high.

However, the worst of all Christmas jams has to be the godawful Stevie Nicks version of "Silent Night." The "Voodoo Priestess" (or whatever the hell she thinks she is) warbles and sputters through a monotone rendition of a Christmas classic in a voice that sounds like the reanimated larynx of Katherine Hepburn brought back to life in a robot body.

As if it wasn't bad enough already, Stevie treats you to a soul-crushing "ooooh, it was aaaaa... siiiiiileeeeeeent niiiiiiiiight" over and over again, thus composing the last twenty-five minutes of the epic monstrosity. Literally, try to find a station that plays the entire song, I guarantee you that the DJ will start talking over the ending as it fades out. If a station actually let that song play as it was recorded we'd be well into Martin Luther King day before Stevie finally stopped bellowing out her faux-soul, creepy crap.

Furthermore, what in the hell is the queen of the dark realm doing singing about the birth of baby Jesus anyway!? It's really tough to fear your minions of the night when I'm picturing you hanging mistletoe from the stairwell. Shouldn't she be singing about the 364 days a year that DIDN'T bring peace on earth and goodwill toward men? Of course, it's possible that the voodoo/dark lord/scary Stevie stuff is all a put-on, but I don't buy it. She really is dark and mysterious and I won't hear otherwise.

What are you going to tell me next? Alice Cooper really isn't a zombie-vampire from hell? I'd like to hear you explain that one.