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The concept was simple, instead of wasting millions of trees a year making paper to deliver messages to friends or loved ones, one would simply purchase a sticker displaying the desired message, attatch it to the windscreen or bumper of their motor vehicle, and drive to a pre-arranged meeting point at which the recipient of the message could read the sticker at their leasure.
For a time the scheme was successful, billions of trees were saved from needless felling, and the only resource that was being used was that oil stuff (which scientists claim won't cause any environmental issues until our children's children are in control and we're all too dead to care).
However by the late 1970s people had begun to realize the potential flaws of the scheme, Not only were bumpers across the world becoming encrusted in old message stickers deeming them virtually useless in an accident, but certain unscrupulous people were reading messages intended for other people.
Soon there was a world-wide abandonment of the scheme in favor of more private communication. Sir Alexander Graham Bell was known to be so annoyed at having his bumper stickers read by total strangers that he dedicated his life to inventing the telephone.
Eventually the scheme became totally obsolete. But occasionally one might still see a relic from the dark stays of bumper stickering, a faded, tattered memory of the golden days of communication.
The Few Survivors
As was mentioned, one might spot a sticker or two on a non-comformist's vehicle (most likely the un-aptly named mini van (due to it's massive appearance (though entirely fictional) it is in no way "mini")). There is a complete guarantee that this sticker will fall into one of the following categories:
Arrogance (aka pride at an unhealthy level) These may be an all too familiar phrase: My kids are honor students. Now, for reasons unknown to the normal individual, parents (and/or guardians) tend to feel the absolutely uncontrollable desire to display the non existent intelligence of their children, where all the world can see; on their cars. Obviously, it never occurs to them that the world really doesn't care. While the oblivious parent is drooling over her/his child's latest report card, that same child is most likely in the act of those activities which will in every way hinder her/his mental abilities, therefore lessening the chances of future success (and good report cards). These activities include (but are not limited to) facebook, runescape, wearing apparel from hollister, shaving, cannabalism reading and bathing in lukewarm, yet curdled milk. There is obviously NOTHING at all honorable about these so called "students."
Annoyance Agreed life is hard, but this doesn't make it ok to display every single imperfection about the act of being on the back of one's truck or (preferably) Prius. No one has any interest that you aren't a morning person, or that your job sucks, or your balding, or that Viagra made your penis disappear altogether. Really, we just don't care, but you are under the illusion that we do, and so you (the ignorant driver) decide to let the world know of your troubles, as if we don't have our own to deal with (over payed janitors, republicans, twitter, etc). So please, look at it in perspective and don't complain.
Obnoxious Jokes Why did the chicken cross the road? To escape from the sadistic slaughterhouse! HAHAHAHHAHAHAHhahahahahahalolokshutup.Yes, creativity is at an all time low due to Tajikistan's I.N.T.E.R.N.E.T. (an acronym that means "infertile snail" in Tajik (a fictional Australian language, linguists suggest originated from mis-translations of Kim Jong Ill farting while intoxicated when bombing the same factory that created I.N.T.E.R.N.E.T. in 9 trillion BC ( yes the Tajik's are no youngsters))), but not completely obliterated. We can create our own jokes, thanks. And by the way yours are about as entertaining as techno music written by the deaf.
How to Kill a Bumper Sticker Now that the reader (if you can indeed read) has a 'very' basic background on the despised bumper sticker, she now most likely has an un-sensational yet Peruvian urge to kill these alleged stickers. If this is the case, read on to find out how to INCINERATE these bizarre encroachers by just writing the cursed name on the inner thigh of the beerholder, who is in no way present at the correct time.
Step 1. Locate a sticker. Now, one should know that these sodomizing stickers are actually reincarnations of a fusion between the late King Herod and the miraculously still living Curtis Jackson (aka 50 peso (the wrapper/architect/men's rights advocate/potato sculptor/Branglinaandoctofathermorphedinafreaktoomanykidsaccident who has been shot 5,432,7,5645.09798374 times to date, and is currently being beaten to death by Tiger Woods' "golf club," but will without a doubt survive his death and make a potato sculpture (while wrapping) about the event)). Also know that these two are experienced necromancers, necrophagists (not to be confused with Dick Cheney) and necrophiliacs (see Nicholas Cage), so whatever you do, don't die while near them (unless you want to be summoned from the dead, eaten while dead, and raped while remaining dead).
Step 2. Now that you know where your stickers are, avoid dying and proceed to find them. Note that although they do not entirely exist, they are invisible, and very patriotic of there colors.
Step 3. This is arguably the most difficult and least interesting part. Remember to buy everything (figuratively of course, we wouldn't want a sudden boost in the American economy now would we?) you can possibly see, hear or smell at your local Wallgreens. Take careful note that the walls of this majestic ultra market are in no way, shape or worm green, they are in fact an obnoxious magenta that will have you begging for those mouth-oiling tortillas......and remember to avoid death (and her good friend Dennis) at all and every cost, even if you have to use Mastercard to pay for it.
Step 4. You've found your stickers. You've read this article. You've tried to ignore that leering face over your left shoulder that continues to molest you as you fill your head with Untruth (but you can't and simply burn the lush banana plantations in south-central Riyadh as an act of vengeance against Amira al-Taweel's silly attempts to drive in that same city). Now it's time for deeply sexual meditation. Yeah. You've got it down.
Step 5. By this point you've realized that you are getting no further in killing your stickers, and as i write you are planning to wage war on me and lie with my livestock while simultaneously head-banging to Dingleberry's hit single, What did i eat? for contributing to such an unworthy and utterly Polish editorial. Lucky for you, my livestock consists of three aptly named sperm whales, and yes, they're Welsh.
Step 6. Repeat steps 3 and 5 until the Atlantic Ocean is a single mass of sperm whales and the very thought of What did i eat? makes you literally sodomize the nearest pencil sharpener. Congratulations, 50 peso is finally dead, in the nearest pencil sharpener. i told you those stickers were sneaky.