Dear Taxi Cab Whore

Dear Taxi Cab Whore,

It's official, you've hit the big-time. Your attractive, comely visage has been graphically imprinted on the rear window of a Los Angeles taxi cab:



You are a hometown hero; your parents and childhood clergymen must be so proud. I happened upon your (figurative and literal) star vehicle at the early hour of 8:45 am at the intersection of Barham and Forest Lawn as I made my precipitous, barely awake descent into the Valley. However, after being confronted with your advertisement, I found myself all-too awake; the muscles in my face involuntarily forming the harshest, staunchest, lip-curling sneer of revulsion physically possible; it brought a whole new depth of feeling to my facial epidermis, as if it had just experienced some sort of electrical stimulation.



Let me ask you, Taxi Cab Whore, are you OK with the fact that your skanky self is come-hithering 24/7 on the back of a taxi cab? Does "Deja Vu Showgirls" (whose website states: "1000's of Beautiful Girls & 3 Ugly Ones featuring reviews, ratings, club comments, free passes, coupons, special offers. Locations Coast to Coast") compensate you handsomely for this dubious way to make a living? I certainly hope so. Forgive me though, Taxi Cab Whore, if I don't make the trip down the 5 freeway to E. Commerce Avenue to find out.

Never mind that the cabs in Los Angeles drive like oozing amoebas, slouching towards some sort of indeterminate Bethlehem devoid of smoothly moving traffic (the LA taxi experience is the polar opposite of New York's), but do they also need to be slathered with advertisements for strip clubs? There are enough stymying, mind-numbingly repugnant aspects of living in Los Angeles... do we also need to be confronted with naked women before 9am? Not that it isn't disquieting at any time of day, but at 11pm coming home after a few drinks on the west side, I can at least shrug it off with a chuckle. In the valley in the morning, however, it's just depressing. We know this city is a cesspool, do we need to be reminded of it while sitting in traffic? I honestly don't know what's worse, you, or a pro-life government-sanctioned license plate.

So, Taxi Cab Whore, don't be offended if I steer clear of your risqué cabs, as not only do they offend my delicate, puritanical, Massachusetts-formed sensibilities, but I can't imagine those cab drivers can see that well out the back window.

Best Regards,
Dear Crabby