For any Australian this sort of thing is both unfortunately and funny. In the Australian vernacular "root" has a meaning directly analogous to "screw" in the American vernacular. So the plumbing section of the yellow pages takes on a whole new dimension if you know your way around Aussie slang. Gems such as Mr. Rooter, Super Rooter and the above depicted Urgent Rooter just leap of the page and swim around inside the reader's imagination. Rooter Bong on the other hand just defies explanation.
Bruce Beresford's 1981 film, Puberty Blues, does a great job of putting the word in context. Scoot forward to 1:30 and take in the root reference, particularly relative to the mention of the panel van (and that's a whole different discussion).
And while we're at it, any Aussie can't look past this...
To help those a bit in the dark understand the humour, "coit" is an Australian slang term for one's anus.
I love a good dose of self-righteousness plastered across the back of a vehicle for all to enjoy. It must feel great to soundlessly roll around the hilly streets of San Francisco while the electric-hybrid motor does all of the heavy lifting. You can glance out of your window, hold your nose high and think to yourself, damn, I'm awesome! I'm driving a hybrid. Sure, if I really gave a shit about the environment or the funnelling of funds to those evil terrorists I'd give up driving a gas powered vehicle altogether and switch to biodiesel or just ride a bike but no, that's too much effort and would eliminate too much of the god-given convenience rightfully mine as citizen of the United States of America.
Let it go.
For some odd reason it really irks me that people feel compelled to fly their "I'm better than you" flags in the most cowardly ways possible. While darting about city streets who's likely to apprehend the hybrid driver and attempt to engage her in a debate about the merits of her decision to still consume gas while hypocritically splitting hairs about which gas powered vehicles Osama Bin Laden purports to love or hate? I think that's what shits me most about bumper sticker propaganda; the purveyor of the propaganda is rarely there to defend his position. You slap your statement in place that only people whom you've passed or who are behind you can actually see. And even if they did care to call you on your crap you're too neatly sequestered away in your hermetic coccoon to be reached. It's the very definition of passive aggressive behavior. And even if someone did you actually penetrate the defensive barriers you'd probably be petrified of the results.
Ladies, gents, everyone... Think carefully before you start jabbing syringes full of Botox into those ruffled furls of flesh on your forehead. Case in point: Laura Tyson.
Laura's an accomplished woman; former Dean of the Haas School of Business, former Dean of the London School of Business, blah, blah, blah. The list goes on. She's also a not-so-secret Botox fiend. Watch the following video and compare the degree of expression emanating from Laura's face versus Rachel's.
Those eyebrows don't move! They don't shift, edge or budge one angstrom left, right, up or down. Meanwhile, Rachel's facial expressions are going every which way, as is her style. Hang on, at about 30 seconds into the clip Laura's high arch brows tick up a touch, revealing for the first time a crack in her frozen countenance. And those Saint Louis Arch type brows... Always a tell-tale sign of a grand or 12 forked over to a scalpel wielder somewhere in one of the snootiest burghs around. Perhaps I'm simply too young at this point to fully appreciate just how youth-oriented our culture has become, but why do it? Getting loads of plastic surgery doesn't make the recipient necessarily look younger, it just makes the recipient look like she or he has had loads of plastic surgery. Like Sylvester Stallone's mum. Urrrgh! Looking at her gives me the willies.
It kind of looks like her face is made of putty, doesn't it? I wonder how much Play-Doh has been injected into those cheeks?
Now let's give credit where credit is due; Rachel Maddow is probably 10 or 15 years Laura's junior, so The Beauty Myth probably hasn't quite caught up with her yet. Or maybe Rachel's self esteem is a little more robust. Who cares? Just let those eyebrows roam. Set them free. Allow those furry caterpillars to crawl up and down. It does a face good, even a professorial one.
For any Australian this sort of thing is both unfortunately and funny. In the Australian vernacular "root" has a meaning directly analogous to "screw" in the American vernacular. So the plumbing section of the yellow pages takes on a whole new dimension if you know your way around Aussie slang. Gems such as Mr. Rooter, Super Rooter and the above depicted Urgent Rooter just leap of the page and swim around inside the reader's imagination. Rooter Bong on the other hand just defies explanation.
