Aside from your home (and possibly your yearly allowance of hookers), you probably spend the bulk of your hard-earned cash on your vehicle. The tool you use to get from point A to point B. A shiny (or rusty) hunk of metal that allows you to exercise your God-given right to destroy the planet while simultaneously sticking your nose up at those dirty hippie bicyclists taking up all your god damn pavement. And if you’re a total fuckwad, you probably wallpaper said vehicle with douchey bumper stickers.
Don’t get me wrong, I like the funny bumper stickers. I remember one magical Christmas where I gave my dad a flimsy piece of adhesive-y paper that eloquently stated, “My Kid Beat Up Your Honor Student.” He smiled, hugged me, wiped a tear from his eye….. and then used it for a fucking bookmark because there was no way he was sticking that garbage to his car.
There's political bumper stickers; now there’s a surefire way to convey to the world that you’re a fucking dolt. Guess what jackass, no one cares that you voted Kerry-Edwards in ’04 – we’re glad you’re proud to have been the only one, but give it a rest already. If you’re politically involved enough to advertise which colon crud of a candidate you support on your vehicle, then you should realize there are many even more unbalanced whack jobs out there than you. In fact one was just thinking about letting you get away with cutting them off back by Mile Marker 12, but when they saw that you voted for the OTHER guy they saw it fitting to shoot you in the god damn face. And you had it coming, for being such an uppity asshead. Like anyone was driving to the polls on that one glorious Election Day you forever soiled your car’s ass end for, clueless as to what feces flinger they were going to vote for, and then it happened—they got behind you on the highway and had a moment of clarity. Yes! I’m going to vote for THAT guy! It’s like that Buick just told me too!
Get over yourself, dickhead. There’s a reason voting is anonymous; no one cares who you vote for. No one even cares if you vote. No one wants to hear you talk about it and DEFINITELY no one wants to read about it as they’re stuck behind your pompous ass in rush hour traffic.
Then there’s the uber-religious rear-end reverends. I can deal with the fish symbols; especially since some clever asshole started adding feet to them and putting the word DARWIN in the middle. It’s THIS one I can’t handle:
How Christian of you! You’re zealous enough to think that God might just rip you from the fabric of the universe at any damn minute because you’re so awesome, but you’re willing to risk turning your car into an unmanned weapon of mass destruction just so you can make it to yoga class? What if your driverless Datsun crashes into an orphanage of unbaptized special needs children? Well what the fuck do you care, you’re already in heaven. And you can pull off a downward facing dog like nobody’s business.
Facing downward to HELL at all those “left behind” to feel the wrath of your death machine!
But the political and religious petroleum-powered propaganda isn’t what bothers me the most. No, it’s the cryptic letters. You know the type… They’re circular, white, with nonsensical black letters. What do they mean? I doubt even the hipsters who bought the raggedy things know. But I can tell you every time I see one I get real close, as close as I possibly can, and then I zone out to try to reach a state of meditation that will make it all crystal clear. Most times that results in a collision, but hey, put senseless abbreviations on the back of your car and you’re asking for it, pal. If you want to send a message, spell it out! Nothing says “I’m a dung donkey” like spending money to advertise a message that no one understands. Oh you’re sooo artsy driving your blue Dodge Neon. Well I’m going to get one of those stickers too, it’s going to say F U, and if you can’t figure it out come real close and I’ll explain it to you with the back of my hand.
In conclusion, if your car is worth more than the $3 you would spend on a shitty bumper sticker, don’t do it. Besides, we already judge what level of shithead you are based on the make, model, and color of the vehicle you drive; don’t make it even easier, it takes all the fun out of it. Dick.
[This post is dedicated to Dave Warner. Your Turd Mountain Honoree bumper sticker is in the mail.]