I just spent sixty days in the jailhouseFor the crime of having no dough.

You know that song, "Damn, that DJ made my day?"

Well this is an excerpt from Stacey's blog:



I ride bike past this car almost every time I go out to my Rivendell daydream drool bike store of choice.

I think about these bumper stickers all the time, usually while at work, and start laughing.

I have lurid and fully-developed preconceptions about the person that drives this car and I am currently oscillating between either somebody straight out of a John Waters movie (that toothmissing long-haired skinny naked guy...or maybe the egg lady!) or else the black-clad trenchcoat Columbine shooter.

I know it's a man because women don't drive Cadillacs unless their husbands have died.

It would be a horrific letdown if the driver of this car was not a magnificently stylish and classy individual.

This small aesthetic bullet fired into the culture war ether certainly has brightened my day on multiple occasions.

Bravo, Stacey.

That bumpersticker.

I mean, damn.

I am speechless.

And awestruck at the brass balls it takes to slap something like that on the back of your Caddy.

We're not worthy.