So here’s the thing:
It should be made clear from the very beginning that I am not what you call a Bumper Sticker Person. Bumper Stickers have always seemed, to me at least, the adhesive-backed embodiment of the sentiment contained within the phrase “Better to keep one’s mouth shut and be thought a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.” While I adored stickers of all kinds as a child (and still do, now that I think about it), I never saw the point of a small piece of paper as the vehicle (har, har) for expressing one’s sexuality/ideology/politics/religion/sports-team-affiliation.
This is because I am what is known as “snooty.”
Last night, however, something changed. While opening the mail, I discovered my Barack Obama bumper sticker had arrived from MoveOn.org, and as I looked down at it, I thought to myself, “Really? A bumper sticker? Are we this person? What’s next, mud flaps with sexy girlies on them?”
Despite my innate snootiness and fear of what might come next (I’m fine with the mudflaps, but what if I suddenly find myself saying “NASCAR? Yeah, that might be a sport.” with a straight face?), I cast my fears aside. I busted out my Simple Green cleanser and recycled paper towels, walked out the back door, and wiped clean a small area of Lola’s rear panel (before you get too excited, friends, Lola is my 2000 Bravada, not some exceptionally dirty girl with an environmentalist fetish).
After cleaning her panel, I then applied my brand new, freshly-printed Barack Obama bumper sticker to my precious baby’s hitherto-unblemished backside thusly:
In an ironic twist, you’ll note the sticker leans slightly to the right, har, har, choke, gasp, wheeze!
You’re on your own for mudflaps, though.