My license plate frame says “OG SMASH” — does that count?
(ETA: I just realized that it’s exactly seven letters if I leave out the space, which is exactly the custom plate limit here in the Soviet. But I don’t know if I want to shell out the extra fee every year.)
Yes, it’s a look, but the it’s subtle because “the look” varies. For instance, no socks at all (too hard to put on) and dog hair on the clothes (Dopers love pets, but it’s long been established that maintaining a cat-house isn’t the only way to do it!). Also, a perpetual scowl that suggests annoyance with the world, which is not unfolding according to the preference of the subject under study, is more evidence that the subject may be a Doper.
Merely say to a suspected Doper either of the following: “I think ketchup on a hotdog is an abomination”, or “I think beans in chili should be punishable by death.” If no hour-long dissertation on the wrongness of your beliefs doesn’t ensue, or the person bolts for the exit, then it’s an ordinary citizen.
Of course, dog hair or a chewed up toe on your sandal. Maybe a bit of duct tape to hold straps on.
Just say, “Look, I could’ve had my sandal fixed professionally, but I did it better and cheaper at home. Do you know what direction the colonostomy surgical suite is, per chance?”
Yep.
Doper will show themselves.
We have a neighbor with a pet cat named Opal. They’ve never admitted that they know of SDMB. Must be staying incognito until I come up with the secret handshake.
That’s it. That’s the secret handshake, right there. “Are you a friend of Cecil?” A “Yes” means that you are a Doper. A “What? Huh? I don’t get it,” means that you are not.
I suggest that we adopt this as our secret handshake: “Are you a friend of Cecil?”
I don’t know if there’s a general password, but if you see someone surfing the Dope on their phone, the magic words are, “It’s taking longer than we thought.”