Walking Billboards

What is it these days about people and labels? People are mostly smart (at least I like to think so), so here is something I do not get. Why is it that people—and it seems most people do—confine themselves so readily to being labeled by some company who is making money off their own willingness to paint themselves into Dale Earnhardt, Jr. or some other icon? I love walking down the street and being sold to by Nike, Old Navy, or Bud Light or whatever company has successfully extracted a few bucks from some mindless nabob. I can’t help but wonder if the thought had even crossed the mind of the unsuspecting victim that he or she’d been had. I mean, shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn’t a person be paid to be a walking billboard? You don’t ever see any roadside billboards standing in line at the local rescue mission or the teeny-bopper mall to purchase the garnishment that would cover their own nakedness, do you? Of course not! And you’ll never see me stoop to that level, either.

In fact, when I was pimply-faced and insecure—wait, I still am. I mean when I was in school, I was never reduced to self-labeling or calling myself a variety of names--I had friends to do that for me.

So I just don’t get it.

And then there are those people who drive around with a cute little oval on their bumper which says OBX? What on earth is an OBX?! And why is it these people want me to know that they like OBX? I actually have my very own secret theory that these people are the degenerative progeny of the earliest cavemen and that they are still utilizing their ancestral language that only they know in order to make them feel sophisticated.

But now it’s even worse. We’ve got all these other idiotic indecipherable white ovals plastered to every piece of available space imaginable. I guess these sophisticates are now becoming even more sophisticated. In fact, just yesterday I saw stationary OBX hubcaps. That’s right, you heard me! While the car is moving these things stay upright. They must be weighted somehow so that the letters don’t turn while the car is moving. Wow! Now, if it’s really true what these modern cave dwellers say—I overheard once that OBX is Cavespeak for the Outer Banks—I’m grabbing my wife and kids immediately and am going to spend my two week vacation along the Carolina coast just to find out what the hubbub is all about. Perhaps while I’m down there I’ll find my answer while walking along the beach with a kid at each hand as the sun sets over the beautiful water.

But if not, the next time I see any vehicle with that annoying white oval and those same black letters, I’m going to jump from my car, rip that thing off, and save someone else from the deception—and from spending a few of their precious hard-earned dollars on a wasted trip when instead they could use their money on something worthwhile—like a baseball cap with a big fat checkmark on it!

Election Depression

This one I wrote just after the last presidential election.

The presidential election is over and I’m depressed and in need of serious help. I hope there is someone out there who, while I hope is not afflicted with the same degree of depression as I am, can at least understand what I am going through and offer some encouraging words to cheer me up. For the last few weeks I have been very tired and emotionally spent. I have not at all been sleeping well and when I do, I have had the worst nightmares I’ve had in years. I have not been doing well in school and I have at times (to mine and my family’s dismay) involuntarily shouted obscenities for no apparent reason at all. To be sure, yes, I am angry; as I am sure many of you are at the outcome of the election. But more than just being angry, I am sad.

Maybe I need counseling. I have thought about it and, like some of the John Kerry supporters in Palm Beach County, Florida, perhaps I should try it. In case you haven’t heard there have been at least fifty Kerry supporters who are in group therapy for treatment of a new disorder called PEST. PEST stands for Post Election Selection Trauma and, ironically, many of the symptoms I have experienced are exactly the same as what these particular Floridians have had.

These symptoms have been described by the county’s American Health Association (AHA) director, Robert J. Gordon and some of the patients there. The Boca Raton News website quoted one of the patients there as being scared. “Democracy is at stake and nobody is rising to protest this president,” the patient said. “According to AHA officials,” states the website, “symptoms of PEST are similar to post-traumatic stress disorder. They include nightmares, sleeplessness, hostility, listlessness…” Gordon said, “If I had a cardboard cutout of President Bush and these people wanted to throw darts at it, I would let them do it… It’s no joke. People with PEST were traumatized by the election. If you even mention religion, their faces turn blister-red as they shout at Bush.” Gordon also said, “More than anything else, people with PEST tremble physically.” According to AHA officials, one of the symptoms even includes threats to leave the country.

Come to think of it, no wonder I’m so angry, sad, and depressed. Wouldn’t you be, too, if you realized that such great entertainment was about to leave the country?