2:40 p.m. - 2001-07-01
pngins
Driving out to the practice space this morning, I found myself following a blue Lincoln with vanity plates that read PNGINS. It signaled a left turn onto some side street, so I passed it on the right. This afforded me a good view of that little flat area in front of the rear window, which had been transformed into a sort of mobile diorama populated by every conceivable species of plush miniature penguin, many of whom had been velcro-ed into "action" poses...and I asked myself:
How can one person's quest for self-identity go so terribly, terribly, awry?
