Bitch, Bitch, Bitch

Bitch, Bitch, Bitch

As an honorary deputy of the Global Grammar Police, I’ve always taken issue with the “Buy Local Bitches” sign displayed on the front door of the Fabric Lab (3105 East Colfax Avenue) and in the windows of other Bluebird Beat businesses. “Where are all these local bitches for sale?” I like to joke with Tran Wills (co-owner of the FabLab) and Suzanne Magnuson (co-owner of Big Hairy Monster, located in the back of the FabLab) every time I go in for a haircut or a $30 T-shirt. This, of course, is not the semantic effect Tran hoped the signs would have when she created them, and I’m sure most passersby understand that she’s encouraging them to buy local wares, not local women. Still, she’s calling us all bitches, and now that I’ve seen the chalk-scribbled sign in front of Babooshka (3225 East Colfax Avenue) encouraging drivers or walkers with wind in their bowels to “Honk If You Think Our President is A Bitch!” well, my feelings are kind of hurt. If the head of our own Evil Empire is a bitch, what’s that say about the average Colfax crawler being urged to purchase local clothes, art, toys and other accoutrements? Am I to understand that this once-derogatory term has become so ubiquitous that, in effect, we’re all bitches?

Think about that. Bitch.

-- Drew Bixby

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