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I was at a grocery store parking lot getting into my car with my bags and I noticed the car next to me—a piece of shit Ford Taurus or some fucking thing. It had that look like it was costing the owner a bit here and there and was getting ready to really sock it to him in the wallet really damn soon. I saw a bunch of bumper sticker plastered on the rear window: the ubiquitous, Bush Cheney 04, Support our troops ribbon, nothing unusual for suburban Atlanta I thought. Then I noticed the I SUPPORT JUDGE ALITO FOR THE SUPREME COURT. Now I’m a political junkie of sorts but if my guy was in the White House, I doubt I’d be sporting bumper sticker in support of his Supreme Court nominee’s. I have nothing against bumper stickers—I proudly tool around with an anti W sticker, but it just seems too fanatical. My other thought was: who the fuck makes stickers promoting judges? But I had to see this asshole so I waited, and waited, and waited. We all prejudge form time to time—most of the time—and I had him in my head sporting a flat top wearing camouflage pants or shirt, slightly overweight, with his eyes really, really close together like *’s. And damn if I wasn’t right next to the money. He was wearing jeans but had on a camo trucker’s cap, big gut, and beady little eyes real close together. Thomas Frank could of used a picture of this moron for his What’s the Matter With Kansas book, to illustrate what kind of person who votes against his own best interests. How bad I wished I had keyed the fuck out of his shit-box, but I’m a good ape, so I don’t—as they say on the Jerry Springer Show—even go there. I just think about it real hard and heavy. I was tempted to ask him a few questions but he was running his mouth on his cell phone so, being the nice guy I am, I just gave a loud 45 second blast from my horn, until he abruptly ended his conversation, gave me a WTF look so I waved at him, and drove off.
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