Look at my Family!

You know what really depresses me? Those stickers that people line up on the back of their minivans and SUVs to show the world how many children they have. At least they used to tell you how many children they have. Now they concentrate on the finer details, like whether their children play soccer or have pig-tails.

First of all, these stickers are a serial killer's wet dream. If you're driving around with those on your car, and you don't live in a gated community, you're practically begging to get slaughtered. "A woman living alone with her two small children, and no dog? I'm there," the Ted Bundys of the world must say to themselves.

I saw one the other day that had a woman and five or six cats and dogs, and man was that sad. You know they must be all she has to live for, and what's worse, she's got those damn stickers on her car to tell everyone about it. I could just picture her driving home from the animal shelter where she works to lie down on her mangy living room floor, where she coos to her animals until they come and rub themselves up against her.

Sometimes I want to put those stickers on my car as a joke. Maybe have just one guy and about thirty children taking up the entire window. "Different mothers," I would say when questioned about it. Or maybe on my friend's car I could put just two men and a cat.

Fortunately, I don't think I'm acquainted with anyone that's got these stickers. If you know anyone who does, you should do them a huge favor: peel them off and incinerate them. Or at least peel their heads off.