For a full and complete world they say it takes all kinds of people—the normal ones, sure, but more importantly all the weirdos: the cowboy angels and poplin-shorted bros and puffed-lat sufferers and eye-drooping cabbies, and everyone else who provides life with more color than blandness. The older I get the more inclined I am to agree. To that end, I offer the following snippet of conversation I recently had at a gas station in a mountain town in central Washington.
I’d gone into the store to buy a pack of High Life. I did this because some days just call for champagne, and who better to provide it than the fine folks at Miller?? The guy behind the counter was in his early 60’s, with dyed-black hair pulled into a narrow ponytail and a thick chin beard equally wrapped. His t-shirt read, Today I’m feeling motivated: I might take a nap.
I complimented him on his shirt and he smiled. He leaned forward conspiratorially and said, “I’m trying to get into the lewd, crude, and…”
(Dear reader: surely you can see where this sonic rhythm is going. Think of a word that means “rude” and sounds like lewd and crude, and you’ll soon guess what he had to say next)
“… offensive t-shirt business.”
So there was that.
Well, I replied, someone’s got to do it.
Yeah, he said, you should’ve seen the one I was wearing yesterday.
Per my social obligation I cocked my eye and replied, Oh yeah, what did that one say?
If your panties are in a twist, take ’em off!
That was good enough for me. I laughed sincerely and wished him a good night and went out and enjoyed the cans of champagne and thought, Yep, it really does take all kinds. So to you, Union-76 offensive t-shirt guy with the sweet braided chin-beard: Thank you, and God bless.