Red Mosquito

Matt Cameron is a man who loves his bumper stickers. He's got them all over his car, and he's not ashamed to show them off. In fact, he believes that no car is above a bumper sticker, not even a Corvette.

"I think bumper stickers are great," Matt says. "They're like little pieces of art that you can put on your car."

He goes on to describe the various bumper stickers on his own car, including one that reads "My other ride is your mom." But it's not just about the funny sayings for Matt – he also likes to use his bumper stickers as a way to express himself politically.

JuanHamm wrote:What did it say? Something witty?

BurtReynolds wrote:

JuanHamm wrote:What did it say? Something witty?

I dunno. It kinda looked like zangief from street fighter.

VinylGuy wrote:yeah im with you

if the waiter/waitress is doing a great job, i dont mind doing it. But there are so many awful ones, i dont want to be forced to do it.

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

JuanHamm wrote:

VinylGuy wrote:yeah im with you

if the waiter/waitress is doing a great job, i dont mind doing it. But there are so many awful ones, i dont want to be forced to do it.

It's all a big scam. The restaurant pays the staff starvation wages and we're guilted into making up the difference

bodysnatcher wrote:I’ve sorta stopped going to eat at places solely bc I hate tipping.

spike wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:I’ve sorta stopped going to eat at places solely bc I hate tipping.

Just don’t tip, cuck.

bodysnatcher wrote:I’ve sorta stopped going to eat at places solely bc I hate tipping.

B wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:I’ve sorta stopped going to eat at places solely bc I hate tipping.

I've stopped going because the price has gone through the roof and the service and food have gone to shit.