Bumperstickers, Tattoos and the Repugnant Cultural Other

People use bumper stickers for their cars for the same reason others get tattoos. 

In fact, all of us seek to express our individuality in some way. And, in what seems like a contradiction, we want to be part of a group that knows and accepts us and holds some common value. We associate with people who share our interests, our particular stage in life, or some cause. 

This driver values dogs, and at least once voted Republican.  I can live with some Republicans, in fact I do. (But I wonder about people who treat their dogs as a significant other.) 

My innocuous bumpersticker proclaims my enthusiasm for Bluegrass music. Recently it prompted a brief chat with a passerby and established a quick, transitory connection with him. It cheered me up.

But I've seen some bumper stickers with which I strongly disagreed. They wouldn't invite  pleasant conversation in the parking lot. And I presuppose that I don't have anything in common with a person covered in tattoos. 

The Wall Street Journal recently introduced me to a term, the RCO, the "repugnant cultural other." The point made by the author was that sometimes we become part of a group just because we are united against those we see as objectionable. 


Hopefully an individual wouldn't get a body tattoo that says "Trump's an idiot." That's a permanent declaration about a temporary problem. And while I might agree, in the long run demeaning the RCO ends dialogue before it begins. Same with demeaning bumperstickers.

The term appeared in an article about academicians and evangelical Christians who serve on the same faculties, but disrespect one another to the point of silence. The article (hit RCO link above if you're want more information) pointed out that in many walks of life we won't talk to people with whom we know we'll disagree. Interestingly, few of the comments left on the Wall Street Journal page about the above article were respectful, proof the problem is widespread.

Well, golly, how will we ever learn to 

http://www.enochmagazine.com/home/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/coexist-bumper-sticker.jpg

if we don't listen and talk to each other?  And I'm not saying that we have to agree. I appreciate it when my friends hear out my opinions they don't hold. (Thanks, Lattes.) Yeah, it will probably get uncomfortable. Maybe we need to ask each other deeper questions to truly learn why somebody thinks what they do, or feels what they

do. And eventually we may have to agree to disagree. 

So whether I see a body tattoo or car "tattoos,"  I would be a better person if I were slow to disapprove and quick to listen. 

If you haven't seen the compelling Heineken ad about differences, do take time to click on this link. 

Can you relate to any of the positions held by the participants?  How do you usually handle ideological differences with a friend or stranger?

Whimsey for the News Worn

Let's roll over recent bad news with a time out for some whimsey. And since there are snow flurries outside my window, it's fun to remember summer.

This weinermobile was parked at a Denver hotel on a day hot enough to cook their dogs on the pavement.  

Somebody else must have been hauling the grill and product. It doesn't look like there's storage for them in there. 

I imagined a bunch of ad people brainstorming around a table. “Hot dog sales are slumping in Salt Lake. They're down in Denver, Rapid City doesn't even show up on the weenie radar. We need to send somebody out and spread the mustard, so to speak."

"Whaddya have in mind?" another asks.

"We need to remind Americans how great it is to eat a grilled dog slathered in ketchup and onions."

"Make it mustard and kraut and I'm all over it." 

"Let's launch a sample and sales promotion across the central US. They're not keeping up with the coasts in eating weenies."

"Yeah, and we'll make a giant frank to drive around the country."

"That's brilliant! Nobody could ignore a beefed up sausage sittin' on a sleek chassis." 

“How big are you talkin'?" 

"Twenty six feet long, averaging 187 smiler per mile." 

Their yellow and orange marketing machine made me smile, and I drove around the block to come back and get a closer look. I wish the driver (the company calls them hot-doggers) had been on hand, but she wasn't.

Oscar Meyer has had weinermobiles hitting the road for 81 years. I'm glad it stopped here.

Next time the news makes you feel bad, cook your WEENRs and cover them with the works. Can't help but smile.

Memorials: Tangible Comfort

Last week's wanton murders in Las Vegas were quickly memorialized in words, candles and flowers . Tangible markers may give comfort to the bereft and keep the loved one's memory alive with a loving gesture.

Numerous times I've passed this light pole on a residential street in Denver. It took several trips before I realized it wasn't just an odd piece of street art. On the next trip I stopped and noted the sign on the other side "In memory of Cole Sukle."  When I googled him I read tragic newspaper stories about this cherished fourteen year old boy. 

Last summer Cole was killed by an 81 year old woman with a history of unsafe driving. I felt outraged that her family hadn't taken her privileges away months before when she was involved in a hit and run accident. It would have saved Cole's life.

I could have continued to drive by this unusual flower-wrapped totem without ever stopping to pay my own homage. 

Memorials draw us in to learn stories and sympathize with those who grieve. They help us appreciate people we never met, and thus more highly value those we know.

On a vacation to Whidbey Island I passed a bench facing Puget Sound.  
Fresh flowers tied on the bench suggested wedding left-overs.

 But the other side of the bench carried a name plate. It revealed that the tribute was for  one H. Mark Bridgeman who had died the previous year. Thanks to the internet I understood that the bench looked out on the sea because he loved to go crabbing and clamming. 

How many other stories wait to be discovered by the curious passerby? 

Would you be pleased to be remembered in some concrete way that pointed to your uniqueness? How have you commemorated a life well-lived?