Radical Noticing

What can I say? I'm just so quirky like that 😂

On an average day, I will walk by someone with an interesting T-shirt. Perhaps it is of the “Graphic” variety, and so it comes adorned with an arresting image, a funny little aphorism. Maybe I’ll drive by a car with an insane decal. Or perhaps a complete stranger with a tattoo somewhere I didn’t expect.

The key is that I don’t talk to any of these people. And so, what ends up happening, is that everything I imagine about this person is filtered through the lens of their insane Joker/Harley Quinn tee or whatever. When I drive behind a man with a Brazzers license plate frame,

the moment I pull up beside him, and get a good look at his face, all I can think is, “Wow. A real Brazzers man.” He could be a beautiful, gentle soul—a patient father of three, maybe on his way to take his kids to Baskin Robbins before the sun sets and the moment is ruined—or maybe a world-renowned cardiothoracic surgeon, speeding through Palo Alto traffic to perform life-saving atrial fibrilation on a visiting world leader. Any of the above things could be true. And in his own life, likely 99% of the time, he is not thinking about his Brazzers license plate frame. He’s just driving, and there’s a guy to his left now, looking directly at him. Why is he staring? I’m just driving. I have so many other things going on in my life that I’m thinking about. What does he want from me?

It’s quite the modern conundrum, don’t you think?

Powerful…..Just learned this..

We are not just our dumbest t-shirts. We are more than our hastily applied bumper stickers. The human life is robust and brimming with variety. I know that. But there is something uniquely inescapable about this fact: that when I see you with an insane license plate, and then I catch a glimpse of your profile, you are nothing more than that stupid fucking license plate to me. You cannot escape it; you have been Defined, Codified, Bagged and Tagged. Sorry, brother!

I am a chronic License Plate Noticer. Sorry if that offends. The first thing my brain processes when a car enters my field of vision is its license plate. Novelty license plates are one of modern life’s most trenchant details—every letter an ocean of possibility, of feeling, of past regrets. I have decided to share with you all some of my favorites that I’ve come across. Keep in mind that people chose to do this. Enjoy.

You can imagine he was going for “COOK” here. I would’ve just taken out the “U” in “LUV” to secure the space later on. I could be wrong, though. Dude could just love to cuck.

Gotta hope the guy who owns this is Asian. Kind of a reclaiming thing, hopefully. Otherwise—we are deep in the shit, brother.

Gotta hope the guy who owns this is Asian. Otherwise…

The Most Annoying Guy You’ve Ever Met On Hinge, am I right???????????????????????? 😂😂

Actual most annoying guy. Guaranteed Indian.

I’ll give it up to this person—it makes me laugh. Intentional spelling error or not, it’s just fucking funny.

This was a particularly special one I came across in Syracuse. The decals on the back windshield obviously fill out the picture. I don’t know how to think of this man. I don’t know if I want to think about him. It does, unfortunately, feel 100% certain that he is white.

Many friends received this picture in a text from me. This is, for my money, the funniest license plate I’ve ever seen. By far. I don’t think a single human in recorded history has crafted a phrase funnier than “19 COVID.” And then to make it your license plate?

Van in Mexico.

The ambiguity here is what compels me. It’s so declarative, powerful, unknowable. I want to know so much more. I want to know how the sentence ends—or if, of course, it just ends there.

I can’t remember if I took this or if a friend sent it to me. Either way, it’s from 2014, according to my iPhone. Ten years ago, I had both Snapchat and a deep fear of someone not understanding the joke.

GUMPP + QAnon slogan. Interesting.

Big treat for fans of “My Dad Speaking Malayalam” in there.

The guy depicted above, the titular “ADDYGUY,” lives across the street from me. I don’t want to blow up his spot, but let’s just say we both live in a city in Central New York.

I see his car every day. I have no idea what “ADDYGUY” means. It’s been 1.5 years. And, of course, I will not talk to him; I will not ask him. I will simply torment myself for years, not knowing what “ADDYGUY” is meant to convey. That’s my cross to bear.

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