Spitball Army

(BlackBerry photo: spitballarmy.com)

By the looks of that scratch, the rear bumper had a part in saving your life, too.

This car emblem was spotted in the parking lot of the main post office in downtown Birmingham today.  I saw the car on my way in to the P.O. with an armload of mail.  As I stood in line, I kept watching the door to see if any of the people leaving looked to me like radical fundamentalist Christians.  Of course that’s a generalization!  Sue me – I just wanted to beat them out the door and photograph the bumper.  Turns out that I did.

As I was taking the picture, an elderly black man (who I would not have pegged as a radical fundamentalist Christian, not really knowing what one looks like) came ambling out of the P.O. toward the car.  As he reached for his keys and the car door, he never diverted his gaze from me, standing behind his car taking a photograph.  I said, “Hello!  I’m just taking a picture of your car emblem.  Not your license plate.”  Yeah, I thought to myself, I’m going to run your plate number through the computer, find out where you live, and send over a commission of rabbis and imams.  Don’t fear me.  He waved at me with a smile and said, “Have a blessed day!”

Now, about that car emblem.  It’s certainly not an award-winner for subtlety.  Maybe it is enough to say that it stopped me dead in my tracks, even with my arms full of mail.  Beyond that, I am still so disturbed by the tactless combination of image and verbiage that I feel a Keith Olbermann-style rant coming on.

But I won’t do it.