If trade-union Web sites or CNBC specials haven’t got you avoiding Wal-Mart, I have a much more selfish reason.

A couple of weeks ago I wanted to buy Kanye West's most recent album, "Graduation." It was a Sunday night and I didn’t have time to go to Champaign, so I went to the only place that I know of in Urbana that sells CDs past 6 p.m., Wal-Mart.

Normally I would have waited, even though it was the opening weekend. But this album was released the same day as 50 Cent's new record, "Curtis," part of an ultra-hyped beef between the two artists. 50 Cent even claimed that he would retire if he was outsold, and I really wanted to see that, or at least watch him look stupid when he had to eat his own words.

Mostly I just really wanted that CD.

But when I arrived I could only find edited versions. “Oh, record-scratch voiceover bleep,” I said. This would never do.

After 20 minutes, three inquiries, an undisclosed number of in-my-own-head obscenities, and an unanswered page to the electronics department head later, the guy working at the cell-phone booth told me that Wal-Mart only sells edited versions of CDs that have been given parental advisory labels.

At first, I was annoyed by what seemed to be an awful policy. To say that swearing is never appropriate, even when trying to convey an important message, seems awfully closed-minded. And it’s not like Wal-Mart is famous for its high moral standards.

Honestly, I’m just angry at Wal-Mart because the greeting lady wouldn’t give me a sticker (probably because I was too old, dumb ageist corporations).

But also, I didn’t want to buy a CD with chunks of the music missing.

It’s not that I have anything against edited CDs. While I don’t like awkward pauses in my music, I’m sure there are plenty of people who don’t like hearing strong language, or they aren’t allowed to, or they want to have a CD they can play with Grandma and not have to constantly adjust the volume to avoid uncomfortable moments.

Still, I held out. Two days later, and for 25 cents more, I went by Exile on Main St. and got to teeny-bop to as many vulgarities as Mr. West chose to release. And it was well worth the wait.

So for those of you who enjoy music with words you can’t say on network television — well … network television in the 1950s — I suggest you try somewhere other than the nation’s largest retailer, because like it or not, they aren’t having that @%$!#@@@#$!^$#!@$#@$^.