I swore I'd never use the word irony in a song. Of course, the irony is I never meant to live this long.
— "Robot Moving, " by Jon Dee Graham
LONGVIEW, Texas — Lately, the world seems ironic to me. Guess that beats several other scenarios, such as civilization is spinning madly out of control, our economic system is on the verge of collapse, or an asteroid will soon strike our planet. One of my favorite bumper stickers reads: "If you aren't completely appalled, then you haven't been paying attention."
However, being optimistic most days, I look for the quirks to cheer me up, or at least give me pause. For example:
A buddy was ambling behind a car here in Longview the other day. On the right side, above where car dealers usually put their logo, was a raised-metal version of the Christian fish symbol — ichthys. (There are several variations of the spelling.) Just below on the right bumper was a sticker that read in neon colors: Follow Me to Hooters.
Now that's irony, folks. Big time.
I often walk with a friend down a quiet road that eventually meanders outside the city limits, though barely. It's not really out in the country but there aren't many houses, mainly woods. One site especially drew my interest. Two "No Dumping" signs were tacked on trees just off the road. Below the signs were all manner of trash — a rusted washing machine, a men's-bathroom-green recliner, beetle-brown beer bottles and faded plastic jugs. A few days passed between our walks, during which someone chunked a windshield-washer blue mattress to the collection.
I shot a photograph of this ironic mess, though I don't know what to do with it. Maybe I'll make a large print of it and use if for target practice, since plinking literal litter bugs is illegal.
I mean, really. If you have to haul off a washing machine, why would you go up and down the road looking for a "No Dumping" sign? Wouldn't it be simpler to find a landfill or a metal salvage company?
I have been collecting interesting names of hair salons for years. That's a genre given to idiosyncratic signage. My current favorite is "Kutt Me Klean," a modest establishment in the country outside Pittsburg.
I've been dreaming up country-music song titles, a field filled with irony. Someone once told me all country songs are about loving or leaving, or some combination of both. That's exactly right. I can't dream up lyrics, understand, since that would require more effort than I'm willing to expend in a field in which I'm utterly inept. Music, that is. But if I could find a gifted lyricist and accompanying person to draft the tunes, I think we could have a bright future. So here are a few of my titles.
— If You Won The Lottery, I Bet You'd Be Gone.
— Take the Trash Out When You Leave.
— Buying That Hummer Has Turned Into A Bummer.
— I Was Looking For A Job When I Found This One.
— I know. I should try to hold on to my day job.
Austin is the capital of a lot of things weird, including bumper stickers. I believe there are more stickers per capita in River City than anywhere else in Texas — and possibly the country. I have seen cars whose color really couldn't be discerned from behind, because of the stickers festooned all over the rear bumper, trunk and back window.
Some of my favorite ironic and iconic bumper stickers from Austin, the blue dot in a largely red state:
Worst. President. Ever. I like the periods. It's reminiscent of our city's first version of its current slogan: Real. East Texas. Living.
— We Are Making Enemies Faster Than We Can Kill Them.
— At Least the War on the Middle Class is Going Well
— Hey? How Did All These Conservatives Get Into My Bedroom?
Irony may keep me sane. It's iffy.
Everyone says put one foot in front of the other. Of course, the irony is that's the only way feet work. What luck. Jon Dee Graham, again.
Gary Borders is publisher of the Longview News-Journal. E-mail: gborders AT coxlnj.com.
