Illustration by Bob AulTo the geezer who so proudly crossed the picket line at Vons: yeah, I saw you telling the strikers they should be grateful to have jobs. Saw you go into the store to buy your prune Danish. Saw you walk back outside and tell the diminutive striking worker that if you were president, you'd call in the National Guard. Saw you climb into your silver sedan. Watched as you almost backed over me because you were in such a hurry. Saw you act exasperated when I stopped, smiled and waved you back—I figure, you're old, you're sort of entitled to be a run-of-the-mill asshole. Then I watched you hit the gas and back into that Suburban. Three or four of us saw you cringe, shift, hit the gas and screech out of the parking lot. You left a small trail of car parts behind you. All I could tell the policeman—besides your license-plate number—was that your bumper stickers read, “Support Our Troops” and, “Don't Believe the Liberal Media.”
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