The Writing on the Wall

I enjoyed an unexceptional yet memorable evening with the kids on Friday: a stroll through the park, a visit to the video store to select the night's entertainment, and a lively and messy dinner at the local pizza parlor. On the way back we stopped at the playground adjacent to our home, where Abby pretended to be a brown and white terrier named Frisky who liked to fetch sticks and run up slides, while Sam repeatedly--and with spectacular windmilling of the arms--fell and concussed himself on the various steel appendages of the playground apparatus.

It was on this very apparatus--a cube-like structure with slides and ladders and an inner fort-like enclosure--that I spotted this graffito:

As a parent, I have to say I found this disturbing. I don't want my kids exposed to such sloppy disregard for punctuation. I mean, if the author here is exhorting said bitches to smoke weed (as he undoubtedly is) the correct phrasing would require a comma: "smoke weed, bitches." As it stands here, the message could be construed as an attempt at guerilla marketing--an imperative request to smoke a brand called "weed bitches." Unlikely, I grant you, but when one is trying to persuade bitches of one's credibility vis-a-vis the smoking of weed, one needs to be precise.