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That's Not the Stick Shift, 1957
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As much as we hate to impute naughty meanings to these innocent pictures, it’s difficult not to infer some peculiar conclusions from this lovely painting. Perhaps it’s just what it seems to be: a man has picked up a hitchhiker, and he thinks she’s Doris Day, and he just - can’t - believe his luck.
Or perhaps they’re married. We hope so. We hope she wasn’t hitchhiking, and deigned to enter the vehicle because of the man’s harmless demeanor, - his expression indicates a chilling emptiness, a Bundy-banal ordinary-joe expression that masks bottomless evil. Perhaps her attire is the reason for his private glee: if you're a serial strangler, and a woman hops in the car with the scarf already in place - well, that's about as good as it gets. Whenever you doubt that God really means for you to drive around the nation strangling debutantes, He sends a sign like this. Hallelujah!
Some believe this man is Bob, who is revered by The Church of the Subgenius; they regard this painting as an apocryphal image of some parable not yet accepted as part of the canon. A few researchers at the Institute insist this is an utterly harmless painting, meant to give the viewer a warm, amusing look at the average American setting out on an average trip, intended to be viewed quickly, in passing, then tossed away.
These researchers have been kindly advised that the Institute no longer requires their services.
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