Kids on Board

I hate tailgaters. Just to let all of you "SUV-drivin’, late-night cruising teenagers with too much testosterone,” if you tailgate my red, 2005 Honda Odyssey, DIVEGRL vanity plate mommy-mobile, I WILL slow down to about 20 mph just to number 2 you off. I used to flip people off, yell, swear, and do all sorts of road-rage type activities in my younger years. Not anymore. Now, when I see tailgaters and road stupidity, I mutter under my breath and think of all the ways I could so screw up the stupid driver’s day.

For example, those little yellow, diamond-shaped “Baby on Board” or “Kid on Board” signs are just too nice and too small. We need to inject a little bit of Samuel L. Jackson here. You see, Samuel L. Jackson (or as I like to think of him, Jedi Master Mace Windu) has a favorite word and that favorite word is number 6 on George Carlin’s list, a.k.a. motherf***er. It can be quite the powerful word when used properly. I think Master Windu needs to market his own brand of “Baby on Board” signs. These sings need to cover the entire back window and say the following: There are children in my car, motherf***er! Get off my ass, NOW! Of course, you could have variations on a theme. There is a Glock in my car, motherf***er or I’m a psychopathic schizophrenic etc., I eat stupid people for breakfast etc., or even I have 911 in my speed dial etc. Any of those would do. I would be perfectly happy to grace the back of my suburban soccer-mom-to-be mode of transportation with one of those puppies. Mr. Jackson, give me a call. We’ll work out the manufacturing costs and retail pricing. We can cut a deal, I’m sure of it!