I have some bad news for the gas station, the Minnesota PCA, Al Gore, the ethanol mafia, the greenie apparatchiks, and others who can't be concerned with the complexities of daily life: I put this 92-octane brew in a 2002-model year car! Ha! You are not going to box me into that low-rent vodka you call 87-octane gasoline.
I purchased a car (not my flickr image) that has a 9.5 to 1 compression ration and a turbocharger. Volkswagen, the manufacturer (who knows metric tons more than the above decal authors), recommends 92-octane for the engine. Therefore I will seek out and purchase 92-octane gasoline for my car; which inconveniently does not conform to the half-assed vagary of the above decal.
To illustrate my passion around this point, I wonder how much fun I'd have placing irrelevant regulations on something I could not care less about. Maybe I can force people only use lard for helping baked goods out of a pan and forbid its use as a baking ingredient. Oh, lard makes your cakes bake up tall and moist the way you like? Tough. I, an non-baker, have forbid it for your own good. See; I'm the authority and the choice is no longer yours.
Hey - you with those athletic shoes, doing household chores; put on proper shoes. You aren't competing in anything. This isn't a sport. Put on sensible, more rigid shoes. As someone who doesn't give a rip about shoes or your choice of footwear, I'm going to not allow you to use athletic footwear unless you are participating in an organized municipal athletic contest. I know better, see, because I am the authority here.
When the man comes for me, I'm going to claim my Vee Dub is a collector car. When they reject that claim because it doesn't fit their world view and I'm taken away, remember me and wonder who they'll come for next.