A Prius is political correctness on wheels. We’re in an age where it’s impossible to tell the difference between someone who’s genuinely offended and someone who’s sarcastically ridiculing all the uptight, pearl-clutching, butt-plugged social justice warriors. It’s all those moms who are unironically nodding in agreement when Chris Matthews goes on MSNBC and says it’s “racist” to use the word “Chicago”. It’s the same people who sign petitions to have the word “manhole” changed to “utility hole,” and use the term “metabolically challenged” to avoid offending dead people.
A Prius is a peculiar kind of vehicle. It’s for the Competitive Mom in everybody, the one who looks like she’s simultaneously smelling a hot dump and wondering if she left the stove on. The official car of taking your shopping cart all the way back inside the Redner’s instead of just using the cart station. Mom passes by the corkboard at the entrance, and wonders why the detectives haven’t solved Gary Redner’s murder yet.
