a placeless world

We were on the corner of Second and Main. He was at the stoplight, revving the engine in a gigantic black beast.

The light blinked green. He pulled through the crosswalk. Our thumbs went up. His face swelled with pride.

"They love my Hummer, I am soooooooo cool," he thought.

He took his hands off the steering wheel to return a double thumbs up. And we responded by turning ours over.

No words, just four pudgy digits pointed at the ground.

It was a wonderful feeling. A wonderful feeling indeed. Right there, in the middle of downtown, we started a revolution.

A revolution of shame.

The middle finger's lost a lot of its flare, but it still has a righteous F-you connotation that could provoke Thich Nhat Hahn to violence.

We revolutionaries are not about that. We want to make people mad, but not at us. We want to make people mad at themselves.

Shame is an amazing motivator. If conspicuous monster-SUV-driving consumers are ever to get the point, we need to touch their souls.

With our thumbs.

And thus, I hereby call upon you to join the revolution. Give Hummers the 'thumbs down' whenever you see them coming up the road.

One thumb or a pair, whatever you like, however you feel. Get your friends involved: Several sets of thumbs work nicely, too.

No words. No anger. No emotion. Just a chubby digit pointed at the ground.

They'll get the point. And if they see enough — and others do as well — the revolution will take shape. The shame will set in.

The thumb will conquer all.