Mr. Mazda

So I’ll keep this rant short and sweet (er, perhaps not).

Let’s just dive on in.


I am going to judge you based on your bumper stickers. Cold hard fact. But then again, you knew that when you peeled off that plastic backing and slapped that adhesive bad-boy to your bumper like the tramp stamp you still secretly wish you got at 21. Not only am I going to judge you based on that simple little 11.5×3.75 window into your life (or oval little humble brag about how far you can run or which elite beach you are so fortunate enough to frequent), but I’m going to take it a step further. I’m going to assume things about it; I’m going to invent things about you. Make up a nice little story about you in my mind that helps to explain your poor driving skills, or just lack of successfully moving your car forward on a paved road. “Oh, you never learned to merge properly because you were too busy picketing outside Planned Parenthood. Tsk, tsk, what a shame.” As I speed by and leave you safely behind me with the other 25-miles-per-hour-ers.

To be honest, if I were a politician-or any organization for that matter-I would require a deep, deep investigation of any individual before they could be authorized to plaster my name across their ass bumper. There are literally SO many crazies out there. I can’t be associated with the individual traipsing across four lanes of traffic in his rust bucket vehicle. Let’s think politicians…ok so just go ahead and get real honest with yourself and ADMIT this has happened to you…
“OH yes, please Mr. Mazda just come on over. That’s exactly why I left two feet of space between myself and the car in front of me. No, no, it wasn’t for my safety or his. PLEASE come on in.”
And then it happens. You see the glowing, radiant dose of reality gleaming from their bumper.
“OH. A ___________ SUPPORTER. OF COURSE.”

Now I said to be real with yourself, so don’t even lie and say you’ve never at least rolled your eyes at that point. (I’m a little more vocal behind the wheel so maybe that’s the calmer equivalent of such behavior.)

So if I were to ever have a total eclipse of the heart stroke, and run for office (HAH. Literally can’t.), any and all bumper stickers you see are NOT authorized by yours truly. I just want to let it be known. I do not endorse the tramp stamping of any vehicle in this great nation.

Ok, I’m glad we cleared that up. And if you just skimmed this bad boy and would like a Cliff’s Notes type situation, please check out this nice little cheat sheet, not written by yours truly:


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