I’ve been thinking about different kinds of texts lately, different modes of discourse–new ones, old standards. I read an article in The Wall Street Journal about networked books (which hopefully I’ll blog about soon, when time allows) and one about novels sent in text message installments (twice a day) over cell phones. And today I was reminded of an old, but persistent text, a way many people communicate with their fellow man every day: the bumper sticker. I saw one today that made me smile:
I’d rather be reading Flannery O’Conner.
That’s a nice sentiment. And it sure would beat Atlanta traffic. BUT, then I saw one on the back of a black Lexus LX something or other SUV. It was the only sticker, centered right on the back of the car:
Don’t let the car fool you. My treasure is in heaven.
I found a picture of the same sticker on flickr, in case you just can’t believe me. Okey-dokey. So, you’re bragging about your slick (obnoxiously huge) ride, and the fact that you’re so super special you’re guaranteed a place in heaven? Peachy! It doesn’t make that much sense in the first place. If the person who chose this sticker is to be given any credit at all, I can only hope that they do maintain some ironic distance from the reality of the situation. But, deep down, after much consideration, I can still only assume that the driver of this car is a self-aggrandizing twit. I hope your heaven is big enough for your ego.