Unplugged
“Hell was full, so I came back”. I did not find that statement in some Jean-Paul Sartre-esque book filled with witty deep thoughts. Nope, I found it on Roland Avenue. It was on the bumper of a beat up Volkswagen Jetta that was drifting into the bike lane. You wanna talk about hell, Mr. Farfegnugen? Hell, is when we live in an era of extraordinary high tech communication devices and you still chose to express yourself with a big sticky piece of paper on a car that has less power than my dog chasing a squirrel.
Helpful hint of the day: If you need a razor blade and some chemical that makes you high to remove it- it shouldn’t go on anything valuable.
Why is it that we are no longer allowed to text and drive but it’s perfectly legal for someone to use the rear end of their car to tell me to “Eschew Obfuscation”? I nearly hit 3 city buses trying look up both words on dicitionary.com.
Several drivers aggressively honked as I sat transfixed at a green light staring at a car that instructed me to “Practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty.” Ignoring their random acts of rudeness, I was paralyzed- unable to figure out what a “senseless” act of beauty was. Painting the nails of a six toed cat while riding a unicorn? Giving yourself a bikini wax while skydiving? Guess I should have peeled off and applied a “Keep honking- I’m reloading”, sticker on my car’s backside to shut them up.
Helpful Hint #2: Whatever you think is funny at first- will get painfully less funny each and every time you see it. “Driver carries no cash- he’s married”, might get a chuckle in September-but by November you and your divorce attorney are giving your bumper a shower in “goo gone”. And, “I’ve got a perfect body but it’s in the trunk and beginning to stink”, seems devilish cute- until that cop who takes himself way too seriously, pulls you over to look in the trunk and finds your “medical marijuana”. Yes, I’ll admit it, “Fat people are harder to kidnap”, is amusingly clever, until you walk out to the parking lot on a lunch date with your chubby co-worker.
The Presidential election is just getting started and I am already irritated. I can take the viciousness, the lying, and even the crushing feeling of futility in knowing that a box of Honey Bunches of Oats could be elected and nothing much will change. I just can’t take seeing a parade of losers displayed on at least fifty percent of bumpers for another four years. Just scream your political opinions out the car window at every stoplight! Whip your head right out on Charles Street and scream, “Tell Barack I’m Baroke!” Yell: “Tea Parties are for children-grow up!” all the way down the JFX. It’s far more creative without having to give your Prius a tattoo.
If you really think it is necessary to advertise to the world that you’re a proud parent of anyone from your honor roll drag queen son to a neutered corgi named JoJo, or that you live so far in the country your zip code is EIEIO, do me a favor and tweet about it. That way your six followers who might actually care that you call Possum, “the other white meat” can retweet it to their 3 friends and so on. Who knows you may start a club or a revolution. And I can avoid you without having to change lanes on the Internet superhighway or on York Road.
Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 10/21/11 at 08:54 AM
