- If this cretin is working so hard, how does he have the time to spew paint on a wall in the Crossroads? I'm betting he probably didn't do it over his lunch hour, but waited for the deep cover of darkness.
- If he's so concerned about "living", why does he send his precious and obviously very rare thoughts via Rustoleum on a wall that some other working-class stiff will now have to power-wash?
- The Circle-A "anarchy" tag is even more ludicrous. This dweeb wouldn't know anarchy if it sneaked up behind him and stole his credit cards and the keys to his Jetta. Anarchy doesn't really favor the weak-minded. In fact, anarchy doesn't favor anyone. This sidewalk Socrates would be the first to bitch if he got his backside reworked with rock-salt from a 12-gauge while he was happily philosophizing onto someone's wall. Anarchy this.
- Wouldn't it be more effective to take a couple of bucks to Kinko's and print out a half-ream of informational broadsides that he can hand out at the 10th and Main bus turn? What? It's not really about the message? It's just mindless destruction of private property? Never mind.
- He ain't banksy, and this ain't art. Not that it matters.
- It's okay if you don't have anything to say. Put down the fucking paint bomb and walk away.
- If the medium is the message, perhaps this urban Shakespeare would enjoy a power washer shoved up his ass.
- Even better - if there just has to be paint sprayed, use him as a frisket. Stick him down and paint over him. His lacquered outline on the sidewalk could serve as a convenient warning to others.
This shit is just mindless drool - enamel stuck to a vertical surface.
Thus spake the rabbit.