Looney, looney, looney

Sometimes in my mostly mundane daily travels, I come across the damndest things.

As I was parking my car at work the other day, I parked next to a car with a bumper sticker that said "Hey Obama!  Redistribute this!"  Funny thing was, it wasn't on a Mercedes or a BMW, but some fucking hooptie that had long seen better days--it looked like a Dodge Dart that would have needed a tanker truck full of Rustoleum to look even presentable.

I'm guessing he hasn't received his redistribution check, yet.  I know I haven't received mine.

For some odd reason, though, the bumper sticker reminded me of the character Teddy Duchamp in the movie Stand by Me.  For those not familiar, Duchamp has a father who isn't mentally stable (he burned the boy's ear on the family stove), but when a junkyard owner calls his father a "looney" Duchamp explodes at the insult. 

You can kind of understand Duchamp's loyalty--it's his father, and the father was a war hero.  But how do you explain the poor defending the wealthy?  What, he's planning on winning the lotto?  Thinking some wealthy guy's going to see the bumper sticker on his car and offer him a cush job?  Maybe his second car is a Porsche?

It's not redistribution we seek (Obama couldn't care less--he had his chance to help the poor and the middle class and he passed on it, preferring to be seen as some sort of conciliator one supposes).  It's good wages for a job well done. 

And those are mighty, mighty hard for most of us to come by these days.

Peace,
emaycee