I was walking through a parking lot recently and glanced down at a familiar bumper sticker that’s been around for years.  You know the one.  It says:

QUESTION AUTHORITY

I find its tone a little presumptuous, especially considering it’s intended to promote independent thinking.  Every time I see one of them I have the same reaction:

Sticker:  QUESTION AUTHORITY
Mark:  YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME

I’ll question what I want to question, thank you very much.

But this time I noticed a delightful little detail that I enjoy even more than the inherent contradiction of the message itself.  Underneath the bold QUESTION AUTHORITY message was printed, in very small letters, the name of the company that printed the bumper sticker.

Followed by a copyright symbol.

I have one quick follow-up to my recent post about my NASCAR extravaganza-rama-palooza-fest.  Well, besides the fact that a friend of mine took my last NASCAR post and photo-shopped my head onto the body of the random guy standing next to Miss Sprint Cup.

I will not be sharing said photo.

Here’s what I wanted to add.  I took two quick photos at the race that I wanted to use as a compare and contrast feature.  Unfortunately I managed to misplace one of them, but it wasn’t the important one.  Just imagine the biggest, fanciest, most expensive recreational vehicle you have ever seen lumbering down the interstate.  I took a picture of one like that.

And then I took a picture of this one:

Who says today’s NASCAR is only a rich man’s sport?  Just for fun, I decided to see how many interesting things I identify in this re-purposed school bus.

1. It’s a re-purposed school bus.
2. It was painted red and lovingly given a sporty white stripe.
3. Window A/C units near driver and in back door.
4. Electrical generator mounted on rear extension.
5. Propane tank at-the-ready (sitting in the foreground).
6. Viewing platform on top with “safety” railing.
7. Ladder for handy viewing platform access.
8. Obligatory Dale Earnhardt “3” and Dale Earnhardt Jr (throwback) “8” on rear (kind of obscured by the ladder).
9. Painted windows for privacy in living quarters.
10. Curtains in mid-section windows, presumably to give an airy feel to the breakfast nook.
11. “His and her” (or perhaps “his and his drinking buddy”) stools for maximum comfort while sitting and watching 3.5 hour race.

I pretty much love that bus and would be willing to wager its owner has more fun at an average race than the guy in the fancy RV.  I could only think of one obvious suggestion for him to add during his next upgrade.

Considering that he is watching race cars from inside the oval track, I think those stools need improvement.  He should somehow work a swivel onto those stools.  And then he should add an electric motor with a variable speed controller.  Once the race starts, he could play around with the controller until he finds just the right speed that would allow him to rotate in sync with his favorite driver.  If he wanted to get fancy he could add programmable settings so that he could also rotate at caution-flag speeds.  Then again, if he wanted to get fancy he probably would be driving something else.

So I keep hearing that one of the ways to reduce the spread of Swine Flu is to cough into the crook of your arm instead of your hand.  I guess folks are less likely to pass germs via elbow crooks than hands.  Probably good advice.  But now I’m thinking about how I wash my hands multiple times a day but generally don’t wash my elbow crook more than twice.  The same probably goes for everybody else, which means although it may be safer for the general public, we are going to have a preponderance of germy elbow crooks.

Which means you definitely won’t catch me at a square dance this winter.  Not that you would any other winter, but it’s particularly unlikely this year.

I apologize for how long it’s been since my last post.  I seem to run a little hot or cold on the whole blog thing.  The start of college football season doesn’t seem to be helping my writing quantity.  Or quality.  Maybe I should make my blog seasonal.

Today I have composed an open letter to the aggressive teenage driver.  You can read it even if you’re not aggressive, a teenager, a driver, or any combination thereof.

**********

Dear aggressive teenage driver,

How’s it going?  Are you enjoying the freedom afforded by your still-warm-from-the-laminating-process driver’s license?  I sincerely hope so.  I fondly recall the heady days of excitedly driving my Mercury Lynx on even the most mundane of errands.  The anticipation of pulling into a parking space all by myself and strutting into school was palpable.  (Of course nobody else noticed because they were too busy strutting themselves.  Collectively we resembled lemmings, except we were more concerned with Cliff’s notes than his edge.  But I digress).

You may not yet realize that, generally speaking, one’s sense of adventure and physical reflexes are inversely proportional to one’s maturity level.  This explains why so often you find yourself swerving in and out of slower traffic as you hasten to your destination to presumably discuss with friends whatever topics you have already discussed via text message.  Have you ever spent much time wondering about us boring, clueless, nameless drivers that serve as moving obstacles along your single-minded journey?

My guess is not.

You see, most of us were also teenagers before we got older.  Most (but certainly not all) of us figured out that aggressive driving just isn’t worth the trouble.  The risks aren’t limited to getting a ticket that daddy might not pay for.  Driving fast sometimes kills people.  It requires more gasoline.  Speeding on most local trips probably don’t save more than a minute if any time at all.  You probably even complained to somebody about having to go to wherever it is you are now barreling toward.  So why the rush to get there?

Besides, have you noticed that in stop-and-go traffic how the other lane always seems to be moving faster than yours?  As soon as you cut somebody off and swerve into it, it slows down and the original lane starts moving faster.  What’s up with that?  It must just be bad luck or Murphy’s Law, right?  Or maybe people not as good at driving as you don’t know how to maintain their speed.  I mean, it couldn’t possibly be that some middle-aged guy ahead of you actually noticed you swerve violently into his lane, and then purposefully (but subtly) slowed the faster-moving lane down, only to speed back away after you abandoned it?

Nah.  Couldn’t be.  Surely a mature grown-up wouldn’t get a kick out of innocently frustrating you just because you’re behaving dangerously and acting like a jerk.

Have a nice trip!  Sincerely,

Mark (and an army of smirking middle-aged former teenagers)

Hey there.

Sorry for the long time between posts.  We were on a family vacation last week and I didn’t want to mention it ahead of time in case one of you unscrupulous readers would abuse that information and ransack our house.  I’ve heard that has happened to people who use Facebook to tell the world that they are leaving town.  So that’s why I’m not on Facebook.

Well, that and my antisocial tendencies.  Or maybe it’s just arrogance, considering that I have a blog to tell you what I think but don’t want to do Facebook and see what everybody else is up to.

Because I could not get online at our vacation spot, I have some pent up things I need to share over the course of the next week or so.  We’ll start today with a contemplative time I had during a long drive.  At one point during the drive a somewhat clunky car passed us.  (Please note that when I use the term “clunky” for a car I am speaking as a connoisseur and not in derisive terms.  I am the person who once wrote about fixing my drooping SUV door with a chunk of wood and proposed creating a TV show called Scrimp My Ride).  Anyway, in the rear window of the car was a bumper sticker that said simply:

FEAR THIS

Now I know the “Fear This” bumper sticker has been around for years.  It’s just that last week was my first opportunity to think about it for the amount of quality time afforded by driving mindlessly down an interstate for hours while the rest of the family reads, naps, or watches a portable DVD player.  Not that I am bitter.

FEAR THIS

Is that a command, sir?  Am I to understand that you are not simply suggesting that I fear this, but intend this as a mandate?

FEAR THIS

And if you are indeed the sort of “take charge” individual who flippantly makes demands from your rear view window, don’t you think the sparkly lettering on the bumper sticker somewhat diminishes the menacing tone you are laboring to establish?

FEAR THIS

And just what specifically am I to fear?  The sticker itself?  You?  The car?  Or am I supposed to fear a fate in which I become the sort of person who issues mildly threatening, nebulous warnings using a bumper sticker with a jaunty font?

FEAR THIS

I am a generally accommodating person, and I certainly had the time, so I gave it a shot.  I really tried to fear this (any or all of it).  I’m sorry to report that strongest emotion I could muster was a mild loathing.

Some of you reading this blog may be unaware that I used to do some similarly amateur writing that was not in a blog format.  There should be a link to the old website somewhere on the side of this page or somebody on my staff is going to be fired.  There are links to old entries dating way back to 2003.

When I started this blog earlier this year I intended to eventually migrate some of my favorite things from the old site over to here.  So today I would like to present something I wrote in 2005 that generated lots of feedback.  And when I say “lots” I mean by my standards and not, say, J.K. Rowling’s.

I’m of course pleased that some of you remember this fondly, but do wish the subject matter had been more profound.  Then again, the fact that this is a “fan favorite” implicates you every bit as much as me.  I edited this just a little from the original, which probably matters to nobody, but I feel compelled to mention it because other bloggers make a big deal out of noting specific changes to previous posts.  I have yet to understand why.  Maybe it’s just part of blog protocol, or some remnant of actual journalistic practices to which I don’t even pretend to adhere.

***From August, 2005***

WELCOME to The Ark of Mark, which takes pride that it rarely descends to “bathroom humor.” This month we are making an exception. As part of an extensive bathroom renovation, we are getting a new toilet. Did you know that, like automobile and running shoe companies, toilet manufacturers give names to different models? For example, you can buy a Kohler “Cimarron” or American Standard “Champion” toilet. I don’t have a problem with this in principle. However, I do strongly object to a particular model name in the Kohler line. With all due respect to Dave Barry, I am not making this up.

They have a toilet called “Memoirs.”

I realize that somebody in Marketing may have chosen the name “Memoirs” just because it is a nice sounding word without even considering it sounds like a euphemism in this context, but don’t you agree they should have given this more thought? They have ruined the word “Memoirs” for me forever. I just went to Google and searched on “memoirs.” Below is a brief sampling of phrases using the word. Try to read them yourself with a straight face in light of what Kohler has done:

“Memoirs of a Geisha: A Novel”
“The Darth Side: Memoirs of a Monster”
“Turning Memories into Memoirs”
“Personal Memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant” (now that’s a museum exhibit I never want to see)

For the skeptical, the link to the “Memoirs” toilet is here. As a responsible amateur Christian humor columnist, I did e-mail Kohler and ask if there was some nuance I was missing about this name. As of this writing they have not responded. For the curious, we went with a Toto “Drake” toilet. (I mention this in case I ever want to brag that I’m the only amateur Christian humor columnist to make toilet recommendations).

***From September, 2005***

WELCOME to the Ark of Mark.  In our last visit we discussed the troubling decision by the Kohler Company to choose the curious and potentially disgusting name “Memoirs” for one of its toilets.  In a sincere spirit of understanding, I emailed Kohler to ask if maybe I was just missing something.  I have reproduced our actual exchange below.  This really happened:

Mark’s email to Kohler:

I’m sorry to take up your time with a question like this, but maybe you can email me the answer.  I hate to even bring this up, but do you really think Memoirs is an appropriate name for a toilet?  Was this chosen just because it sounds nice without really considering what sorts of memoirs are actually associated with toilets?  Or is there some other connotation I’m missing?  Again, sorry to take up your time, but I’m sincerely curious. Thanks.

Here is Kohler’s actual reply:

Thank you for contacting Kohler.  I do understand that Memoirs is an “odd” name for a toilet, however the name was chosen for the entire suite of products, including faucets, baths, whirlpools, sinks and accessories.  I am not sure how the designer came up with the name, however we describe the suite as follows; “The sophistication of traditional design serves as the inspiration for the Memoirs Suite. With its rich detailing, this suite of products echo the stylized lines of historically renowned furniture and architectural design. Two styles offer different dignified interpretations – the clean, crisp lines of the Stately design, and the added rounded detail of the Classic style, which resembles crown molding. With fixtures and faucets available, the extensive Memoirs Suite can accommodate both large and small bath and powder rooms.”  I am unsure if this response has fully answered your question, and if it has not, feel free to contact me again. Thank you for your interest in Kohler products.  Lisa W

Frankly, I was impressed by Lisa’s earnest reply.  It makes more sense that this name was given to a suite of products (although I still think they should give special consideration to the harsh reality of including toilets when naming a product suite).  It almost makes me regret having chosen another brand of toilet.  I will just have to come to terms with missing out on the dignified interpretations of historically renowned furniture and architectural design that served as the inspiration for the sophisticated traditional design of the Memoirs suite.  Alas.