By Nate Odenkirk | Staff Writer
Note: a large cache of Inquirist stickers have been found and are available for purchase here. Please buy our stickers.
SILICON VALLEY—By 8am, the line to the neighborhood Target stretched around the block and spilled into the parking lot. Undaunted by a global pandemic and shortened hours, they were eager to get their hands on an Inquirist laptop sicker. “I just had to turn out early to get one” said Frank Kepler, a Silicon Valley entrepreneur and venture capitalist. He had been waiting in line to purchase the one-dollar laptop sticker for nearly three days. He was fourth in line. “I hope they have more than three available! And I hope someone is feeding the cat.”
Damn, that’s a nice sticker!
For days, the nation has been gripped with “Inquirist sticker-mania” as some are dubbing it. This so-called “sticker rush,” as some others have called it, has spawned myriad counterfeits and knockoffs, hawked to a yearning public that simply cannot get enough. Most recently, border authorities have seized thousands of “Inguierést” stickers inbound from Honduras. In Lawrence, Kansas, a mother tried to trade her child for six Inquirist stickers (she settled for two). The town of Portland, Maine was set ablaze last week after a fight over who got the last sticker escalated. The entire state of Texas has been under harsh sticker rationing orders, with each family only allowed one Inquirist sticker to eat per month. With shop owners across the nation scrambling to keep up with the ravenous demand, it could singlehandedly revive the crippled retail industry from its pandemic woes.
…the website it advertises, inquiristmag.com, has not shared nearly the same level of popularity and goodwill as the sticker itself.
The sticker features “THE INQUIRIST” in bold black lettering, with the “Q” stylized red for some reason. “It’s absolutely brilliant sticker design,” said Braxby Whinters, a sticker enthusiast. “It’s the perfect size for laptops, phones, baby carriages, really anything with 2.13 x 2.75 inches of free space!” Ms. Winters was lucky enough to get three Inquirist stickers, two of which she put on her feet. “One for each foot!” she added, unnecessarily. The sticker has won numerous design awards, and is nominated for a Nobel Prize in literature, becoming only the second sticker in recent memory to receive the honor.
It should be noted that the website it advertises, inquiristmag.com, has not shared nearly the same level of popularity and goodwill as the sticker itself. “The Inquirist website is bland, the content is offensive, and it’s run by a bunch of nobodies” said Ari Mostow, a cofounder of The Inquirist Magazine. “I only got into this so I could get a sticker, and that hasn’t even arrived yet!” Mr. Mostow then expressed delight at a half-eaten Danish he found discarded on the ground. “If no one claims it for two days, it’s mine!” he said with a grin before stubbing his toe.
At precisely 8:03am, the doors to the Target opened. Mr. Kepler and hundreds of other shoppers poured in, racing to the sticker aisles (aisles 1 and 2). There, in the center shelf, was four Inquirist stickers. One of them had been peeled back and was stuck to the shelf. ♦