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.