Bumper stickers and vanity license plates are two things that I could never get myself much inter-ested in.
Bumper stickers, unless they are homemade, scream out that your ideas are shared by many people with $4.99 to burn.
This I cannot align myself with.
Plus, the stickers' messages, like those ubiquitous damned ribbons proliferating car backs nowadays, reek of cliché, whether they are anti-Bush or pro-Iraq.
I love, and repeat endlessly, the clever retorts I occasionally hear, even if I am the butt of the retort. But there is very little funny about most bumper stickers. We have seen it all before.
That said, I do remember one bumper sticker with great enthusiasm.
I lived for four years in Ketchum, Idaho, the support town for Sun Valley. I got there about the time the ski bums were giving way to the antique dealers and the bonds traders.
Under that societal pressure, those alleged Christians with little real faith seemed compelled to advertise. Suddenly in our little valley, there were at least 20 bumper stickers asking those folks driving the other way to honk if you love jesus.
The garish, cheerleader-esque elements of these stupid stickers seemed to be missed by the "faithful."
But within a week I saw an old Datsun with a large, hand-printed bumper sticker that I felt settled the hash of the automotively missionary pom-pommers for Christ. "only honk if you are jesus," the sticker read.
Liked it. Didn't hear any honking.
As for vanity plates, they seem to be the province of kids and realtors. One spoiled rich blonde in Sun Valley had a plate that said it all: LI'L BRAT. The car, a fancier, newer one than any 16-year-old deserves - red, too - was always parked in a no-parking zone, and almost always had a traffic ticket under the windshield wiper.
The small-town Idaho cops probably were seething. But they didn't know what to do, other than to write tickets the self-proclaimed brat obviously took home to Mommy and Daddy.
Didn't seem cute to me. But maybe it was a simple case of plate envy.
SELFLESSNESS IS SO RARE that I feel compelled to mention a tiny news item you may have missed last week in The Seattle Times. The eight-line item appeared in a local news roundup section.
James Knox, 47, of Renton, died of an apparent heart attack after the fuel truck he was driving turned over on Interstate 405.
State Patrol officials say Knox evidently took the truck where it ended up as he was suffering his fatal attack, evidently so that others wouldn't be hurt.
While he was dying, this man was evidently thinking of others. Strangers. I don't know who he was. I don't know why he did what he did. But my hat is off to him.
Some days we seem surrounded by jerks. Thoughtless, heedless people driving through crosswalks against the walk light, talking at the top of their voices on cellphones on crowded buses and taking 35 items to the 9-items-or-less checkout counter at Larry's.
So to read about a guy thinking of others as he is passing from this world amazes me. My hat goes off to the late Mr. Knox.
FINALLY, steady readers of this column, those who love it and those who hate it, have probably pegged me as a somewhat liberal contrarian. They would expect me to come down foursquare in support of the city's homeless and those who look out for the unfortunates drunkenly propped and sprawled on many street corners, including here in Queen Anne.
They would be right up to a point. I give money to the Real Change guys. I know some of the local homeless and engage in daily conversations with one or two of them. But I also sympathize with people who are appalled by or afraid of some of the specimens walking around abusing Seattle's tolerance on our streets.
Riding back to Queen Anne from Interbay Golf Course on the edge of Ballard the other day, I was engaged in conversation by a bright, friendly, youngish Metro driver. I was carrying four golf clubs, and he started talking about his game. He interrupted our conversation to greet boarding and exiting passengers. He was nice. He was friendly. He was making a sometimes-tough job easier for himself and his riders.
On his last Elliott stop he picked up a weedy, bearded, self-professed "traveler," who was already drunk at 10 a.m. Who did not have the fee and did not have a transfer and greeted the driver with obscenities. At the top of his voice. This pathetic ass then showed a box-cutter to the few folks seated close to him, a crew that included yours truly.
Middle-class passengers began leaving the bus at the first Queen Anne stop, even if they had planned to ride farther. I stuck it out to Queen Anne and Mercer and complimented the driver on his restraint - he was young and big enough to give the "traveler" what he needed, which was an ass-whipping.
Why are these overt failures so aggressively ugly? And why does Seattle tolerate it?
If you are poor and unlucky and you are selling Real Change or getting quietly drunk, I have no brief against you. I have probably given you a quarter when I had only two dollars myself. Life is hard. I sympathize. But to walk through Queen Anne and watch the homeless at the bus stops abusing citizens, littering, spitting and muttering obscenities seems excessive.
When I read that a homeless guy was beaten by teenagers, my first thought isn't usually Oh those bad kids - it is what did that yo say to them? Did he threaten them or insult their mothers?
We need to care about those among us who are suffering. But we shouldn't have to tolerate obscenity and sometime even attempts at physical abuse, from people who have obviously quit trying.
The social contract is for everybody. The jerk running the crosswalk in his Hummer and the homeless jerk calling people going to work motha------ at 9:30 in the morning are both jackasses.
They both deserve whatever they get, too.[[In-content Ad]]
