I am pretty sure you can get them for private use, though I don’t know how legal it is to stick them out in the street. If I were them I would try it. I mean my neighbors, they of the late and long-dying Oak of Damocles and the countless scrawled nastygrams stuck under wipers. I suppose some people just hobble into their eighties with a sour attitude, and no passion presents itself greater than that for lurking, vulture-like, at the window and swooping down on unfamiliar cars with little screeds admonishing parkers without local stickers and, during restricted hours, notice that the county enforcement people have been called. Enough people have connected these things with my address — on one occasion I received an indignant and lengthy response from a woman who turned out to be the vice president of the local Civic League — that I have been compelled to post this notice at my entrance:
This past weekend I received a surprise visit from the Olympian Zeus (onetime owner of the blog Zeus Is Watching on WordPress, which some of my readers will remember). Zeus was up in these parts smiting evildoers to the earth and collecting sacrifices of fat oxen, and on his travels found time to join me and the Cute Engineer for a supper of garlic-basil capellini (like any good Greek deity, he blessed us with olive oil upon arrival). My makeshift “it wasn’t me” sign was the occasion of much hilarity, but I reassured Zeus he was not likely to find a note on a Saturday night, well out of the workday 9-5 time range where we, ahem, enjoy parking restrictions.
Well, alas and alackaday.
My neighbors are flamboyantly (read: the grandchildren all went to the parochial high school and wore the horrible little plaid kilts) Catholic. I am not sure they understand the consequences of offending Zeus. Vulture rending liver in 3, 2, 1….
But perhaps the King of Olympus will be merciful. Everyone enjoys a good laugh.