I’ve been thinking about typing up a big blurb about gas prices, but I’m starting to lose steam at the end of the day. At work I’ve been booked to teach some product classes every day for the duration of the month, and it’s wearing. I’ve been spending 8+ hours a day talking, waving my hands, jumping up and down, and putting on a truly wicked PowerPoint display. It beats digging ditches, but here it is 8:30 and I’m thinking about calling it a night. I’m dreading the drive in to work in the morning.

Speaking of driving to work, as I commute every day I keep an eye on the graffiti tags that pop up around our neighborhood. For the most part, the shop owners and homeowners are pretty good at covering up the graffiti as soon as it appears. One shop has a big, empty white wall that, judging by how often it’s been tagged, must scream out “Spray-paint me now!” It’s been over a month since it was tagged, but I noticed this morning that it was tagged some time last night. I guess tagging is the teenage equivalent of a dog peeing on every lamppost to mark his territory, except that people don’t have to paint over the dog pee.

I am encouraged to see that people respond pretty quickly to cover up graffiti. It shows civic pride; it shows that the community still cares enough not to allow itself to degenerate into spray-painted slums. Wouldn’t it be fun if the laws of physics in this neighborhood were warped so that every time a fume-happy vandal let loose with a stream of spray paint, it would bounce off the wall and strike him full in the face? It would certainly make identifying the little punks a lot easier. And if they couldn’t pee on the walls to mark their territory, maybe they’d go off and do something else that wouldn’t be nearly as destructive, like joining the local anarchists’ group.

How do anarchists have a “group,” anyway?

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