I pulled up at the Gazette office this afternoon to snag a copy, and parked near the door was a shiny new(ish) Vespa with, heaven help us, bumper stickers. I admit I did crack a smile at “One Less SUV.” (Across the street at Iron Starr I caught sight of a pink scooter, which temporarily disrupted a substantial number of brain cells for reasons I’d just as soon not go into.)
Of course, if you hang around alt-weeklies and other places with ostensible countercultural cred, you hardly need bumper stickers to determine the Zeitgeist. To demonstrate, Stewpid reads the minds of the Whole Foods shoppers, and comes up with stuff like this:
“Where are all the hot horny hippie chicks? This place doesn’t even have subs. This sucks.”
“Hmm, if I frown over the label of this Ugandan wine for five whole minutes, will people stop suspecting that I am just buying it because it costs $4.99?”
“I just bought a wrap with Thai peanut sauce! I am like the most ethnic, exotic person on the entire planet!!!! I am like the Angelina of my entire subdivision! Thai sauce! I’m edgy!!!! Grrrr!!!!!!!”
Being about as edgy as the Pillsbury Doughboy, I am in no position to grumble, but just the same, I don’t think we’re ever going to run out of hot horny hippie chicks. Not that any of them are likely to cross my threshold.