I have seen it, been a while, but I have, I have, I have. Got the wiener whistles to prove it. Aaah, all right, they were sent to me from my Oscar-employed cousin. Have seen it though, hauling righteous ass down 95, clocking 85+, sailing by me. And parked once, out fronta the White House, on the Ellipse, dashboard a righteous mess. M-eh-ssssss. Looked to me like some outsider art car artiste was piloting that land yacht, piles ‘o detritus and voyageur’s ephemera strewn from side-view to side-view, dash nowhere to be seen.
I saw it! In the mail! Snail mail! Actual paper. How archaic, how positively earthbound, how sensuously reassuring. A paper cut upon opening. Actual blood. I got a card, a TV dinner card, from my friend. 33 1/3 sent it from Chicago. She sez her fridge sent the sticker to my fridge, but I believe there was human intervention, particularly in the task of stamp moistening. Thank you, from the bottom of my detritus-lovin’, earthbound, ephemera-filled heart.
Do so love the wiener mobile. The name itself incapsulates all that we need to love about human life. Wieners. So basic. So necessary. So essential to human drive. Mobile. Change. Movement. Possibility. So basic for humans to want to drive.
The Lunch Encounter 