L'Chaim!

It isn't with much humility and, in fact, it's with great severity that we take issue with this commuter. We don't even know anjali but something about it makes us certain we would detest her.

If dancing is life, then we are convinced that credit card fraud is your Christmas present. Whether it's falling asleep or getting out of Dodge, we've never actually been able to make it through an entire dance performance. We'd like to think that it isn't a lack of culture so much as a preference for watching paint dry.

Or perhaps it is that we have never lived? If that is in fact the case, then we just ask that someone unplug us from the matrix when you get a chance. Thx!

All of It

Like all of our poking of fun at tailgate madness, you just can't make this stuff up. Leave it to the driver of a Bimmer to assume the identity of the greatest city on God's green earth.

Given such a voice, what would the 8.3 million residents of Gotham say about this? Okay, perhaps much of it isn't exactly fit to print. Suffice it to say that you could predict the abrasive New York attitude: these are a people who were known as driven and tough even before 2001.

Or perhaps this commuter is claiming to represent all of the Empire State? With such a varied land mass and population you get the gist of where we're going. And so we put this driver on notice: take it down a few notches. You might claim a zip code but even that is unlikely.

Illustrious

Were you also completely unaware that Westies have reached such a level of prominence? Somone call Cindi Lauper: we smell a new hit here. Girls may have fun but these diminutive and overly needy canines simply have more of it.

And, if that weren't revelation enough, this mere animal's fame rivals both peace AND love. Maybe it's just us, but perhaps John Lennon overlooked such a beast during his introspective quest to reach nirvana?

Alas, we must take issue with this commuter's most deeply held beliefs, or at least those being assumed in their drug-induced, semi-conscious state. Westies are not having fun or changing the world, they are simply shedding all over it.

Elderly Fam

Of course we're not passing judgment on such people that put embarrassing statements on their vehicle. Where would this blog be but for inflated egos and naked vanity? Some people just don't age as gracefully or maintain their appearance as well as their peers. For every Tom Selleck there is bound to be at least 15 Al Pacinos.

Don't think so? Simply reverse the genders then. How many Meg Ryans do you think there are for every Jane Seymour? And just remember: plastic surgeons aren't on trial here.

Perhaps these people are just more comfortable in their own skin. After all, eyeglasses chains, hair sticks in the bun and Charlie Brown's sweater with a bowtie are really pushing the 65 and "lovin' it" envelope.

Sunbleached

What happens to stickers that you slap on your ride after spending your hard-earned cash? Besides communicating some completely random aspect of who you are (or perhaps were), they simply bake in the penetrating sun. If you are apparently very fortunate, your stickers will one day be the same color as your ride.

Ruined? Worthless? Even if you could somehow pressure blast them off, you'd be crazy to. After all, eventually they will be retro and even look the part.

At that point, why not simply plaster the entire vehicle with fairly unrelated mementos of bygone days? The application does give it a certain something; what that is, we won't say.

Self-Disrespect

We really do try to stay away from passing judgement on people's self image. Most of the hooligans we deal with on this blog are relatively brazen with over-inflated egos to the point where they inflict some representation of themselves on utter strangers, much like the party fouls on social media.

Occasionally, as happens on those social media, you run across open self-loathing and simply cannot look away. Like the portrait buyer on Seinfeld who views Kramer's image, it disgusts us.

A point of clarification: this commuter doesn't purport complete worthlessness. No, instead they claim a value of one penny. As long as they stay in the US, they are worth something. However, if they travel to the UK or EU, it's a decidedly different story.

Scubadriver

Like all graffiti posted on the back of vehicles these days, we question whether this swimmer has really thought it through. So you might enjoy scuba, you might even be certified. So what? We might be a budding apiarist but does that mean we expect the world to care? Only if you buy our sweet, sweet honey.

Of course, you really should be ready for a seamless transition from driving on a road to scuba diving through your window if you're James Bond or Jason Borne. Then again, if you advertise such skill on the back of your ride, the observant villains will likely try to take you another way.

We can offer no decent reason for such a display, apart from open bumper braggery. And so to this commuter we simply say: pin a rose!

Cattle Car

Yes, we know just what you're thinking: if the handicapped can post snarky tailgate confessions, why can't the equestrian industry get in on that action? Oh sure, we are positive that crossed your mind.

We question whether such a bumper burn is necessary. After all, do you really want to get up too close to the back of a horse? At some point one must start to wonder whether being kicked is the preferable consequence for such closeness.

Then you hear stories like this one where a New Zealander suffered a broken leg after being kicked by a horse while he was mounted on another horse. Makes you rethink; a little horse manure never broke anyone's leg.

Median

What would it be like if we all could be this honest with ourselves? The revelation is as foreign as openly admitting to a banking officer that we harbor no intention of repaying a debt and yet still expecting to receive the loan.

We never heard Ward Cleaver say to a sniveling Beaver, "Son, I'll never be a great or even good dad. I'll just be mediocre." Such a pronouncement would have ended the whole series. Parents are hardwired to do more and better and, if you can't, certainly don't tell anyone, much less complete strangers.

And so we wonder whether this mother possesses a strong dose of apathy or some stroke of genius. To be sure, owning your station as an average parent might free you from crushing levels of expectation.

Beware of Dog

We aren't used to seeing paw prints so threateningly imprinted. Sure, we are entertained by the animal love ones like this and that. Rather than play on your heart strings, this driver takes the shotgun approach.

And why not? Many people leave their canines in the car in parking lots... in desert heat, right? At least they did you the favor of letting you know that this dog has bite to go with its tormented bark.

You see these signs all over inner city streets and rural trailer parks, so why is it very different if this dwelling on wheels actually moves? And so we applaud this genius for having the foresight to take no trespassing signs to the next level.

Movement #2

Have we mentioned just how sophisticated we believe we are? Some shun organic gourmet foods for the simple, all-you-can-eat buffets. Others pass up full-bodied wine for fistfulls of Colt 45. Still others scoff at classical music for today's top hits (whatever genre that is). This commuter knows better.

Now, perhaps more than ever, classical music seems woefully under appreciated. It isn't just showing up to world-class music halls the youngest person by 20 years, such music is frequently treated like an alarm clock by the younger generations. Yet what could be more classic than classical music?

And so, we refer you to Sibling Revelry, a blogging voyage of classical discovery complete with history, personal perspectives and video of highlighted pieces.

Shout out to SJ of NJ. Thanks for the pic!

Collagiate

In much the same vein as some of these other bumper decorators, this commuter rolled up their sleeves and gave their tailgate the old college try. We wager this art took a bit more than a couple hours, when you consider acquiring, cutting and applying each sticker.

Wasted time? Of course not! This homage to the tailgate graffiti gods commutes deep significance. Sure, you can't make out any of the stickers but, just perhaps, that is the message.

Just because you may not consider yourself artsy doesn't mean that this driver isn't the Picasso of bumper art. And so this commuter earns the Impressionista® Award. Now let's hope that this ride passes registration for a few more years...

Totally, Yo!

Ever get so charged up on energy drinks and testosterone that you can barely think, much less speak? You know, the times when the World's Strongest Man meets American Gladiators in your head? Us either...

That said, far more broseph-addled gents out there have developed the shockingly boring totally awesome lingo that dudes throw out when taking it to the house, at least verbally. There's even a glossary (of sorts) for such manguage.

And so (like this guy), we thank this hapless operator of heavy duty machinery for the reminder that, with a bit more steroids and a lot less cognition, you too can arrive at the big man's table.

Shout out to EM of NJ. Thanks for the pic!

Touch o' Blarney

Does it ever occur to people that some bumper statements don't really say anything in the end? After all, in the part of the US where we snapped this shot, everyone (it seems) has some Irish blood in their veins. There are songs written about it; TENS of them.

When you sport your lucky Irishness in the Big Apple, it's kind of like flying these-colors-don't-run Old Glory on your pick-up in Texas: even Mexicans can laugh at that.

In the end, we're forced to put this blarney stone-kissing, Danny Boy-singing, warm ale-guzzling potato farmer on notice: you are dangerously racist. What about the Germans or British? What about all the non-Irish trying to make their way toward the American Dream?

Duper

Ever wonder what would qualify you to be described as super? We can only assume this commuter is indisputably superb, what with the GIANT decal they're sporting. Right?

Then again, if the driver actually had some superhuman powers, why would they in fact need a car? If they were Iceman from X-Men, they could always skate across a freshly created track of ice or, if Storm, they could summon wind currents to get from point A to B.

Even easier to conceive, if this driver really had powers, they could fly faster than a speeding bullet with their cape flapping in the breeze behind them.

Riddle Me This

What is brand-spanking new yet was made to look like it has been driven through the West Bank?

What did the country mouse do to their ride to make it seem like they're a city mouse?

What video game is more real than reality to this commuter?

By now, we all have a decent enough image of what this dude thinks of himself. How you ask? His car says it all: simply avoid this Grand Theft Auto-playing, underemployed, trust-fund, suburban-bored guy under 35.

Suck Up

Just when tailgate graffiti can't possibly get more preposterous, we sat in traffic behind this doozey a couple days back. Perhaps this display is hearkening back to the commuter's innocent early days of putting on way too much makeup. Though to us, it only cries Mimi, from the Drew Carey Show, "wuz" here.

There is something about a lipstick mark this big - on the back of a car - that makes us question whether it says anything more than "this driver has an absurdly large mouth." How much lipstick on a "lady" exactly how large would it take to recreate this? One can only wonder.

We suppose this decor is intended to be somehow suggestive but we simply can't appreciate it on that level.

Gazumped

Recall the bliss of honeymooners living life jointly for the first days; so much anticipation coupled with an entertainingly small dose of reality? This driver has stuffed such memories deep into the dungeons of their heart and somehow the purported freedom doesn't feel quite so sweet.

If that wasn't enough, this is the exact voter that Barack Obama does not want to meet in a dark alley. Bitterly angry, you just know that they figuratively are honing a cloaked shiv with his name on it.

We are endlessly entertained by talking-head venom stored just beneath the surface of barely engaged politicos, always ready to raffle off the latest catch phrase from the farthest wing of either US party. "One ring to rule them all... and in [their] darkness bind them."

Shout out to AC of DC. Thanks for the photo!

Incessant

Try not to vomit. Really this is a nice thing, right? Is there any modifier that could be more offensive than "nice"? In our book "nice" is as close to earning a negative connotation without actually being bad.

Describing something or someone as "nice" basically means you have nothing positive to express, though your feelings for the subject are on the brink of negative.

And so we digest rainbow peace symbols and smiley faces the same way we hear "nice": to bland and unimaginative to have a pleasing flavor while not altogether distasteful. Throw in a happy red dinosaur and we would prefer to associate with this commuter only if we were incarcerated.

Smashed Face

Question: What's worse than people who think pugs are cute?
Answer: Lovers of such mongrels that advertise their black belt on the back of their car.

When taking karate was somewhat cool, Ralph Macchio was a skinny under-twenty-year-old and children dreamed about taking on evil older kids, the Karate Kid burst into the imaginations of little boys across the US. Shockingly, even then you couldn't find bumper braggery about it. Since that was the 1980s, let's assume that some things have changed but not necessarily for the better.

We are thus forced to put this eternal adolescent on notice: pugs have to be one of the visually ugliest animals on four legs. Worse, 50 year old Ralph Macchio called and wants his black belt back. Now.

Outdoorsy

We have all crossed paths with those people who, though they reside exclusively in major metropolitan areas, endlessly strive to be at one with nature. Inevitably they drive all-terrain vehicles, which allow for higher emissions, and wax poetic about their most recent tree-hugging (or is it "tree-mugging"?) journey.

And so we put people like this commuter on notice: your carbon footprint (as calculated by Al Gore and his Al Jezeera compatriots) and granola eating skillz are no better than ours. If you want open trails for your bike, move to the interior of the country.

After all, the grass will always be greener. So put your cargo pants to proper use and fill your hydration pack: it's embarrassing when you use it at the metro gym.

Road Runner Grace

Ever wonder what the Road Runner and Jesus have in common? If it isn’t that obvious, you are in good company. Of course, the Looney Toons hero was innocent and always one step ahead of Wile E. Coyote (which, we suppose makes that antagonist character metaphorically the devil).

In related news, it appears that this truck has been subjected to numerous ludicrous accidents, no doubt with products sourced by ACME. Like Mr. Coyote though, this old-timer appears to take the direct hit and keep on running.

Regardless, this vehicle decor begs the question: how would Jesus drive? Certainly, if he chose to drive such a ride at all, you know that he wouldn't exceed the speed limit and would follow the traffic signs and signals. What would you do if Jesus passed you? It would undoutedly be done humbly, though definitively showing that you are driving too slow.

Yes Indeedy

A quick review of this bumper graffiti begs the immediate question: do the freaks really require such blessing? This commuter reveals their hand but we aren't as convinced. As with many American idioms, this expressions seems to be less a plea and more a statement.

And why not? Without freaks, the world would never have had the grunge movement or heavy metal music, the goth lifestyle, curious amounts and types of smoking in high school as well as all night raves. Then again, without techno freaks, Apple would cease to put out a new iPhone seven times a year.

Still we ask, does God in fact bless the freaks, either at all or in greater abundance than the evil non-freaks? It seems the freaks inevitably mellow into middle aged parents and professionals. In that case: God bless us, every one.

Welcome Aboard

What ever happened to the classic baby on board caution sign hanging in the rear window? This new-fangled version says the same thing but somehow seems strangely alien.

Perhaps it's Canadian? They do say wacky things up there, eh? Or could it be British? Leave it to the Brits to introduce massive confusion to our English language. They probably call this kind of decor "boot booty."

Either way, the image of the baby fills us with great American protectionism, kind of like the international symbol for choking. After all, if someone is gripping their neck, turning blue and gagging, there isn't anyone in the world who would think they are simply clearing their throat.

Those Guys

Yes, we all can recall the boys (with a "z") that never quite made it all the way through puberty and existed to play Dungeons & Dragons or trade comic books. Though they were super - of one kind or another - they could hardly be qualified as heroic. Usually they were super dirty and generally unpleasant.

As you might have guessed, even those boys grow up someday. Whether they drive enormous rides, to cart around there vast amount of stuff, or sport prolific knowledge of the absurdly useless, they nonetheless wear their capes with oozing pride.

And so we salute you, vagabonds of fantasy and denizens of earth. You are even getting a movie about which to build inane knowledge. Huzzah!

Ramble On

Yes, the boys of legendary band Led Zeppelin appear to be at it again. If traveling the world playing some of the best classic rock weren't enough, likely in a crush of complete boredom, the band members borrowed or created their own symbols for an album cover and have since been hawking them for the back of your ride.

Of course, that is a bit unlikely; not that the symbols are on the fourth album, but that they give a rip if you choose to past them on your bumper.

We prefer to imagine instead that the band have more going on in their lives. Case in point, Robert Plant's project with Alison Krauss was way more than a simple cameo. But quick cameos, like this one which included the other surviving members, keeps them rambling on.

Who Needs Beauty?

Remember when, after you got your first real job and made a little money, you bought your first car? It was almost like you could point to your ride as a symbol of your personal independence both financially and emotionally: you had arrived.

Well, some people take these opportunities to shout "alternative" types of independence. Yeah, we don't subscribe to such wide admissions of multiple partners, one-night stands and (undoubtedly) parasitic infestations. That's right ladies: when you're piling into this car at the end of a long night, just know that this beast may leave more than a broken heart.

Entertainingly, when someone stripped the "Y" off of this commuter's lascivious bumper braggery (look closely), the message that this predator is really trying to communicate got a little clearer.

Darth Reproductis

Looks like Anakin Skywalker's plan worked out after all. Following massive blood-letting, not to mention more intolerable wooing of Padme, it appears he gave rise to a whole gaggle of robotic sithlings. Was he cunningly evil or just darkly virile?

Like this commuter, perhaps he just wanted to fill his minivan so that he could slap some tailgate graffiti on the back. If that was the game, "well played sir, very well played."

Imagine having this many brooding, lightsaber toting siths under one roof? We are willing to bet that they go through babysitters like tissues, what with all of the force choking and related telekenetic tomfoolery.

Duplicative

We question whether to qualify this one as a "vanity" plate. Surely you can imagine a few declarations that are more vain. If not, who can forget such legendary braggery like Noel Gallagher's claim, as songwriter for Oasis, that the band's album was better than that of the Beatles (as in THE The Beatles). Don't know who Oasis was? Timeless, that band.

"Anyways" (one of our favorite incorrect usages), it seems like the owner of this vehicle should save themselves the registration and tag costs and simply purchase a new car.

Better yet, stop carting your beater around on a trailer. Some people have felt the recession pretty heavily; others most decidedly have not.

Schooled, Handicapped Style

If you thought a citation for parking in a handicap space was bad, think again. Forget Cajun style, this driver just went multiple sclerosis on your hiney.

We have never known anyone who has knowingly parked in the disabled spot. Though they are always closest to the entrance of wherever you're going, it's almost like the space is surrounded by a force field.

Not saying we're up for canonization: we have run a few red lights, parked illegally and even committed a little vandalism in our days. That said, we even feel guilty about using the handicapped stall when there's a line up in the bathroom. What if a disabled person just happened to need it while you're in there?

Shout out to MF of NJ. Thanks for the pic!

Their Lives are a Horror Flick

We are unable to feign even the slightest interest in Brad Pitt's zombie movie. For that matter, we have missed the entire zombie flavor of the month; well, perhaps ignored is more appropriate than missed. Of course, we likely aren't the target demographic either; intellectual, over 20 and educated.

Though we would never suggest it to groupies, we are convinced that the whole act is merely the product of American Boredom, similar in odor to the New (or Old, as the case may be) Kids on the Block. After all, when was the last time, in a moment of meaningful self-reflection, that you thought to yourself "I need more drama in my life"? Warning: if you answered "never," you just might not be an adolescent anymore.

Pedigree

Faithful readers of Tailgate Confessions will remember a previous post sporting this very same bumper bafoonery. Can... you... dig it?!! We always did love The Warriors.

When senior citizens aren't scoring the 4 PM early bird special at roadside diners and TGI Fridays or driving an intolerable 55 miles/hour on interstate highways, must they purchase disturbing expressions of intergenerational loneliness?

We are left with little option beyond putting anyone north of 65 years of age on notice: please save your money for the corner unit in Boca Raton or, if you are intent on setting fire to your pension, send it via cashiers check to us. Either way, stop blowing it on embarrassing bumper stickers.

Red with Black Dots

My, how vanity plates have become utterly pointless. Back in the 80s it seemed cheeky and even cool. But these days personalized plates have fallen into just another category of bumper shenanigans.

When you pay extra money for your license plate, why not have something more interesting like "GR8T" or "CHWBCA"? We don't mean to take this driver to the woodshed any more than another but the best you could come up with was an insect? As Gob Bluth would say, COME ON!

Who can forget the well-placed vanity plate "OUTATIME" in Back to the Future? There you have it: we're not opposed to all bumper decor, only thoughtless tailgate crap.

Grass Roots

One need not look deeply to find a vast array of conspiracies, from the utterly exhausting to deeply gripping. The Monsanto stories are so not sensational that we hesitate to call it a conspiracy. If we were totally cynical, we might even say that the theorists are more mainstream.

So mainstream, in fact, that we wonder why this driver was unable to locate tailgate graffiti to support the Cause. Then again, this custom job still gives off the vibe of being a "grass" roots effort (yup, that kind).

From the little we know, the Cause is anything but grass roots; though it does appear to be ineffective. Shouldn't successful business strategies be held accountable?

How So?

Isn't the love of things entertaining? Back in the 70s and 80s, the people who drove Bimmers were really the economically elite. Sort of like those extremely enormous cell phones that came with their own luggage cases. But, like cell phones, it seems like you can't go anywhere on either coast of the US without seeing any number of BMWs.

Apparently these drivers also are more inclined toward road rage than any other types of cars on the road, and not just in the US. Wouldn't they like to blame it on the car?

All that is to say, we emphatically disagree with this commuter who is, again, undoubtedly trying to rank in the 1 percent. Nobody is really that impressed.

Whoops

Remember when graffiti plagued urban areas of all sizes? It was a blight inflicted by the very people who lived there. What a nice way let down your friends, family and neighbors. Little surprise that gangs and criminals always seemed to be behind the vandalism.

Fast forward a few years and people are actually paying money to apply graffiti to their cars. And then you have drivers like this one who started the job but seemed to pause on the V, as if they made a spelling error and got stuck trying to fix it with no solution.

To these types we say there is an alternative: you could decide (like millions of vehicle owners) not to adulterate the back of your ride. When did that cease to be a viable option?

Dangerous Lighthouse

Lighthouses used to be life-saving structures that guided all types of sea faring persons to safe shores. Somehow they have also become romaticized tourist destinations, attracting thousands of sight-seers, amateur photographers and artists in beachside towns.

As usual, we just can't help ourselves when discovering mobile mausoleums. We literally gape at these vehicles, though such sightings have yet to cause an accident.

And so, with measurable immaturity and likely zero empathy, you have to wonder why Mom would venture a visit to the lighthouse where Sally Ann met her ultimate end. Did they live at the lighthouse or jump from the top in a final act of escape? We don't know but we hesitate to suggest that you visit next time you are in town.

Hang Five

This commuter is so rad. It isn't difficult to picture them screaming down the face of a monstrous wave while overusing the word "dude." Like Keanu Reeves in Point Break, let's just assume this enthusiast isn't hanging ten. That's what sup.

It could be our lack of understanding but we don't typically see paddle boarders surfing. In fact, we suspect that people who take up this sport are those unable to surf. Not saying it doesn't look entertaining, we are simply suggesting that the two sports are different.

So is this driver at one with the waves and the tossing ocean? Perhaps they are, maybe they aren't. But posting bumper art is not very convincing.

More Than Meets the Eye

This one, with the bows, hails from the dark side of the moon. What are parents trying to say with this kind of tailgate tomfoolery? Friends: don't let friends sticker their cars or drive drunk. Both are humiliating reflections on character.

Remember how flippin awesome the Transformers cartoons were?! There were only a couple other cartoons that could get kids out of bed so early and consistently on a Saturday morning.

Unfortunately the movies are far less than meets the eye. Granted, we only made it through one movie in the series. However, the scripts rival the Rambo and Terminator franchises on both depth and subject matter and the computer generation was... dizzying.

Rat-a-Tat-Tat

Weren't concerned with the onslaught on the economically crucial tattoo industry? Consider yourself aware. Isn't it rewarding to be so well informed?

Some parents force their eager children to wait until they are 18 before spewing colored ink into their skin. Worse, adults over the age of 30 generally refuse to inject the stuff for recreational purposes relegating usage to medical reasons only.

If that weren't dire enough, people over 40 have discovered that snaking dragons and tramp stamps end up sagging in embarrassing, colorful drips of skin. They have even had their paint removed, always paying much more than the cost of getting inked in the first place. There is no "tattoo" in "team" but there is "meat."

Anatomy & Physiology

We were unaware of the epidemic ravaging the New York Jets. Even some insurance companies think this isn't quite possible. Sure, they struggle most seasons to reach .500 but, for Jets fans, that isn't really a new illness. (When Sunday games become too one-sided fans can always agree that it won't ever get as bad as Anthony Weiner, their most famous mayoral candidate ever.)

In all of our complaints about magnet ribbons, we have never touched the legendary pink ribbons. But somehow, this display seems at least a little self-congratulatory on the part of Gang Green.

After all, every NFL team spreads such awareness during the month of October. Could it be that the Jets get extra points for letting Sanchez suit up?

Menagerie

Have you ever enjoyed such an amazing day at the zoo that you could barely force yourself to leave? We haven't either. Crowds of stinking tourists and beasts melting together under the oppressive sun lead directly to brawls over the last twenty-dollar ice cream cone. Jaded, we know.

Why not allow your pre-kindergarten ankle-biters to decorate your vehicle with a zoo theme? Frogs, birds and turtles were never more relevant to America's parkways and highways. Disney is real life in the US, right?

But for the occasional crusty schmear on the side of the roads, nature has proven definitively opposed to the mixing of animals and 65 mile-per-hour momentum.

About What?

Since we don't pay attention to the talking heads, we can only assume that this commuter is beating the thrice dead horse that the US is in dire straits. You'd think that, after a couple of "best shots" coming up decidedly too short, Ron might consider discontinuing his bumper stickers.

The mantra of economic collapse reminds us of the sounding gong of Donald Rumsfeld days of terrorist danger. Seems like projecting the "we don't know when or where, but something bad is going to happen" vibe only engages the paranoid schizophrenics and conspiracy theorists. Then again, what doesn't?

We sense that continuous the financial-sky-is-falling declarations instead only spur Americans of every shade toward a run on the bank and not fiscal conservatism.

Fascinations

If you couldn't tell from the sizeable dent in the side of this truck, this driver is into junk. No not "junk in the trunk," he likes overly adulterated you-might-say-it's-worthless garbage; put more delicately as scrap.

We find such declarations unnecessary. After all, people form their first impressions in seven seconds. Since few people have abbreviated, seven-second conversations with complete strangers, we chalk those impressions up to pure observation. Once our first impression is made, you can forget about changing our mind.

Aren't there places where you can go and root through heaps of trash? And unlike the Dollar Store, you don't even have to pay for it. Seems to us that, by definition, it simply is worthless if the owner can't even be bothered to attach a price.

Tortugas

We just could not let this one go. Might there be some other type of stick family that so blatantly justifies being overweight? We simply can't imagine it.

With about one-third of Americans qualified as obese, we believe it's proven that there is a problem in the US. In fact, the AMA recently classified obesity as a disease. Is that just eating too much and exercising too little or can you supersize those french fries with a lack of responsibility?

While the flowers on the turtles lend a beachy feel, we can only recall large Québécois men beached in the sand in overly small Speedos. So small at times that you might question whether they mistook the spit of sand for a nude beach.

Man Issues

For those of us who have ever run track, and perhaps those who have played select other sports, there really is nothing quite like boys who run like girls. Nothing so immediately steals masculinity like effeminate runners.

That is, nothing except women wrestlers. Gents, would you like to get a gander at a lady who undoubtedly sports more testosterone than you? Yeah, we didn't think so. In fact, we feel confident guessing that nobody really wants that image burned into their mind's eye.

We honestly don't have a problem with ladies who are better than us at things whether physical or intellectual. We simply find gloating of physical prowess by women to leave a pungent bile flavor in our mouth.

Piece Cymbal

Now here is bumper decor to which we can subscribe. Enough with the salute to animals of all kinds, political rants, family ties and dead people. We demand something smart and entertaining, something beyond tailgate braggery.

This one gets right into John Lennon's face and blurts, "who doesn't want peace?" After all, while John was busy imagining it someone else had to stumble over all his half-baked followers attempting to make it happen. Sure, it would have been easier to write a song.

Peace on a global scale is a right and noble goal. Let's face it though: if you're not actively helping, you just might be in the way.

Bow Wow

This one goes out to the influential Snoop Dog. Or is it "Dawg?" We aren't sure. Not only are we not "gangster" in the least (and completely ignorant), we really don't care either. Yet he is influential enough that we recognize his braided locks. Wonder if he donates to Locks of Love? Don't.

Peace. We bid thee peace. Got to get the piece an' cap a brutha? Lil Bow Wow won't "dog" you. Though "lil" isn't little anymore, rappers still have trouble not shooting each other at industry events.

Have you decided against sporting stickers of your canine on your otherwise not-pimped-out ride? Snoop Dawg and Big Bow Wow would be offended to the point of laying down an angry track about it, featuring Rappa' H8R. They might even hire dancers. So, make ready the silhouette of your dog and crank your seat all the way back.

Egg Shells

We all know those people who can't stomach a little noise in their life, much less a controlled riot. You know them: they obsessively go to great lengths to control their environment, typically with sneaky passive-aggression. What remarkable fragility; how serene, how sublimely staid.

Since every road-worthy vehicle comes equipped with some kind of horn, we faithfully make use of it: early and often. If blowing the horn as loudly as possible and with wreckless abandon has truly become a problem, automakers would update the design to get rid of horns and you would only be able to find them in redneck front and backyards.

You may walk on egg shells, if you like. However, by mandate, we will continue to signal with directionals and our reliably blaring horn.

Death on Wheels

We know: we risk coming off as completely inappropriate and insensitive to personal loss. However, we've posted our feelings at least once. Plus, it isn't as if we're including any info that this driver keeps from complete strangers. If it seems like we cover the spectacle of RIP stickers too frequently, know that we have deleted many more images than we have posted.

While attempting to maintain some propriety, we delicately wonder if this name is a bit... ethnic. After all, there is no possible way the deceased was of European descent, even though the last name was Smith.

There is no question that people should honor loved ones. We simply question whether this display falls more along the lines of exploitation than honor. Exploitation of what? You choose...