Friday, April 07, 2006

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign. Blockin' out the scenery, breakin' my mind. Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?
- Five Man Electrical Band
Aside from the obvious fact that somewhere in your car rides a baby, what in the hell does this sign mean? So you have a baby on board. And? I have two dogs on board, should I similarly broadcast it? What if I'm having a bad day, should I get a sign that states "Angry Liberal On Board?" I simply don't understand what these signs are supposed to signify. Are you looking for me to congratulate you? Not gonna happen. You might be a reich zombie and I therefore wouldn't risk speaking to you.
I fear these signs have another significance. Telling all other drivers in the area that YOU have a BABY in YOUR CAR and super duper caution should be taken when driving within your vicinity. Am I right? That's what these B.O.B. signs indicate, right?. So when I'm speeding down the road in my Honda, I will make SURE to avoid hitting your car at all costs. If a tire blows and I'm careening out of control, I will use all my strength and super hero powers to pull my car AWAY from the B.O.B. car and kill some hapless slob who is not fortunate enough to have a baby (on board.) Hell, he/she may have one at home, but as long as they don't have a baby ON BOARD, I'm gonna be forced to kill them in a vehicular accident thus sparing the B.O.B. car from demolition and ensuing catastrophe.
Next time I drink and drive, where I hold the bottle between my legs so I can steer, I will make sure to, in my drunken haze, avoid killing you and YOUR family and subsequently kill SOMEONE ELSE. Some poor sucker who only has a friend (on board.) There's too many of them on the roadways anyway. Or a wife or girlfriend (on board.) Screw them, no baby?? SUCKER. Now die. All the while the B.O.B car will pass through the wreckage unscathed, on it's merry way.
Now don't get me wrong here. I love babies. Who doesn't, right? They're all cute and whatnot (until they either scream, poop or speak) but should you be given precedence in a 12 car pile up? I haven't been in too many accidents, but the ones in which I have been involved, there was no way I was going to be able to avoid a B.O.B car if it was in the line of my summersaulting sedan. Sorry, but good ol' ComeArmageddon does not, contrary to popular belief, have supreme powers over nature and steel. If I did......well, lets just say, in regards to this government......well maybe I won't say it at all. But you know what I'm getting at.
There's another possibility in regards to the B.O.B. Maybe you are supposed to watch your manners around the car carrying such a fragile, easily impressionable individual (ie. Baby). Maybe when I'm in the next billion mile traffic jam, if I spot a B.O.B. car in hearing distance, I shouldn't scream out the window "MOVE IT THE FUCK ALONG WILL YA? SHIT! WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING UP THERE!?" I should keep my mouth shut, thus sparing the defenseless infant the rage of an immoral adult. Ya think? Or when I'm walking though a parking lot, I should ALSO refrain from a stream of obnoxious curse words when I discover the OTHER passenger of the B.O.B. car (not the baby but a FORMER B.O.B. child) is repeateldy smashing his door into my car, thus scratching it all to hell. "Listen kid, I would smack the sh** out of you, but today is your lucky day. Seems you have a BABY ON BOARD so I'm gonna hold off on kicking your punk ass."
What about parking. Should B.O.B. people be given special parking priviledges? I mean, they DO have a BABY on board. And with a baby comes 8,000 various accouterments. All sorts of shit. To go into the mall for 15 minutes requires unpacking the minivan, setting up the stroller, getting all the stuff that attaches to the stroller, making sure BABY is strapped in tight and has proper protection from the elements (blankets, etc), hanging the diaper bag over the shoulder and then getting in line the five OTHER kids they brought along.
So here's ME. Single and ready to mingle. Nothing to unpack and assemble. Just me, myself and I. About to run into the grocery store and pick up my daily allotment of Yoo-Hoo, Kool-Aid and all day suckers. I pull into the parking lot and see an open spot right up front. I turn and am suddenly facing the good old "parking spot showdown." Both our cars meet directly in front of the desired parking space, turn signals blinking in unison. It's like a mexican standoff. Who got there a split second before the other? The drivers stare each other down. Then I notice the obnoxiously yellow B.O.B. reflecting from the side window. I pause. Can I really deny this poor B.O.B. car this prized parking place? She does have all that shit to unpack. And look at all those damn KIDS in that minivan! For the love of god man, are we repopulating the country ourselves? My hand moves to the stick and my foot depresses the clutch. I ease the Honda slowly into reverse. Then, suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I spy something on the rear passenger window. Is that what I think it is??? I squint in the sunlight for better vision. Is that a goddamn "Bush/Cheney'04" sticker? Bastard!! I ram the stick into first gear and, tires squealing and smoking, the Honda lunges forward into the spot. This unleashes a stream of curse words from the B.O.B. car. "Eat it, Republican!!" I scream as I leap from the Honda and dart into the grocery store like a gazelle. It'll be a cold day in hell when I let a rethuglican get a spot in front of me, B.O.B. or no B.O.B. When I came out, my car was keyed. Typical rethuglican.