En la Tierra de los Estúpidos

July 6, 2007

I was driving home from a bookstore when I noticed a bumpersticker on the pickup truck in front of me.  I’m typically not a fan of bumperstickers… though I do have both a Darwin fish, and my Kurt Vonnegut asshole on my car… but mine are bitchin.  Other people’s, "Jesus is my copilot," and "Oh no you di’int!" bumperstickers have got to go.

The gentleman before me was in a shambling pickup truck.  The kind with lawnmowers in the bed, and doors of a different color.  A thick, ape-like arm dangled from the window – a layer of dirt and grime dusting the skin under a carpet of shiny, tangled hair which flapped sickeningly in the wind.  Really… his arm was fucking gross.  And there… on his bumper… was the stupidest thing I’ve seen in months.

"This is America.  Speak English."

Now… I don’t care about his politics.  Personally… I’m kindof pro-immigrant (to an extent), but pretty defensive of the English language.  I would prefer that people who immigrate to the US to melt a bit, maybe assimilate enough to get around, while still staying true to their ancestry.  But whatever… nothing’s going to make Mexican immigrants act like Dutch people, or get Koreans to come out of their house.  This isn’t about politics.  It’s about stupidity.

The light turned red, and I coasted over to the right hand lane… pulling up next to the truck-ape.  He peered over at me, his face covered in patchy, dark hair.  I motioned for him to lower his window, and when he did I leaned out.

"Excuse me… I’m sorry to bother you, but I wanted to ask you something."
"It’s about your bumper sticker…"
"What about it?"
"Well… shouldn’t it be in Spanish?"
"Anyone able to read your bumper sticker, obviously can already speak and read English.  So what’s the point of having it?"
"I’m just saying…"
"Fuck you, faggot."

The light goes green, and he putters away.



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