By emily
GRADE: A

On a movie poster in the Greenpoint Avenue station of the G train, a heated, quasi-illiterate debate rages.

Black sharpie:“White people deserve what Bush is given you. Blacks and Hispanics have been get screwed over for years. Now you are being (illegible) by one of your own people.”

(in slightly different handwriting): “Bush is not “my people,” you racist fuck. We must all rise up together to get Bush out. Bush lies, we die!”

(in red marker)“Hispanic are kept alive by WIC checks. And their culturel values leave alot to be disired.”

(college-student handwriting) “It’s not about black, white, and Hispanic. It’s about Green!$$$”

Isn’t that awesome? My favorite part is the commentator who weighed in on the sub-standard “culturel values” of Hispanic people. Dude, you are scribbling a racist slur on a movie poster in the subway! What kind of cultural values do you have? Ha ha!

Clearly, I am a big fan of graffiti rants, the crazier and stupider the better. People love to talk about the fancy graffiti that is done with spray cans and how cool it is. My general feeling is, eh. Though I love to look out the window while traveling into D.C. from Silver Spring on the Metro and see all the places where “Cool” Disco Dan has left his mark, I would still rather read the many, many emendations to the “How many feminists does it take to screw in a light bulb” joke in the bathroom of Sophie’s. I’m glad I’m much more sophisticated than these people who are so desperate to have a forum to express their viewpoint that they will scribble it in any public venue . . .
Oh wait. I just realized that the internet = a defaced poster for Little Black Book, basically.