Do any of my peeps not know The Onion? Its silly, comic, twisted empire started as a giveaway paper, like the humble Village Chronicles where I write about food every two weeks. The Village Chronicles covers small town stuff like city council meetings, the latest 5K Run for something and exposes about local drinking water. Give it a clickity and you’ll have a fair picture of my fair ‘Ville. http://villagechronicles.net/ For those of my readers who live abroad, don’t waste their time on explosive goofiness or are highminded (um, I’m reviewing my buddy list for highminded types — I think a couple of family members qualify) here’s a sample of Onion land.
It would be a dream come true if The Onion staff guest-edited an issue of Village Chronicles, and trust me, they could put that paper to bed in the time it takes me to write this post.
Because my #1 anti-aging maxim is “Immaturity keeps you young” it will surprise no one that when I spotted a recipe box- styled package of 100 postcards featuring Onion headlines I took it to the cashier without even checking the price. Postcards! The Onion! One hundred Onion postcards! Or as the box reads: “100 rectangular postal cards suitable for the futile act of corresponding with other miserable inhabitants of earth.” Some of you miserable inhabitants have already received one from me — more will find them in their mailboxes. Of course, I’m already trying to figure out how to convert them into Christmas cards, but that might be a challenge too great for even the geekiest card freak — most of the content doesn’t scream “Peace on Earth.”
I figure that in five years I’ll have forty unsent Onion postcards. That would be a shame.
The solution: my further adventures in what I call Suburban Dadaist Guerillism.
You may have read about my crocheted car antenna sleeves here:http://cheapcheer.wordpress.com/2010/05/31/guerrilla-needlecraft-the-secret-life-as-an-antenna-taggerantenna-taggermy-secret-life-in-guerilla/
Or my ongoing origami toilet paper campaign in public places here:
Here’s the deal: I’m going to add a short stack of Onion postcards to my purse and quietly slip them under the windshield wipers of unsuspecting citizens on the street where I live, (I’m proud to say one of my crocheted antenna sleeves still adorns a neighbor’s car) the mall parking lot and any other opportunity that arises. I’ll edit the collection, saving the more offensive cards for my near and dear, and choose clean fun silliness for strangers.
I think an anodyne handwritten message on the back like “Love your Prius!” or “Have fun tonight”! would be a good idea. Or would it be creepy? Nah, I don’t think anyone would be afraid of a stalker that leaves postcards from The Onion.
So why has a woman in her very very very very very very (thank you, Garrison Keillor)late forties become a benignant juvenile delinquent? I suck at self-analysis, but here goes. I have too much time on my hands. My thoughts fly from branch to branch without settling down. I was a serious child, happy but aspirational . The middle kid, or the youngest, is the prankster, never the eldest. But to tie it all into the Cheap and Cheerful mission statement, I think I just wanna have fun, to give others a happy puzzling moment and be a tickled-with-herself practical joker.