I saw the largest SUV known to man with three bumper stickers on it: a sticker for some Spanish-speaking, bible-thumping radio station, a sticker that said in big, white letters “REAL MEN LOVE JESUS” and a “Mi Familia” sticker.
For those of you who are blissfully unaware of what a Mi Familia sticker is, it’s comprised of crudely drawn stick figures meant to represent all the members of a vehicle owner’s family affixed to the rear window. Usually, they have the name of the individual they represent below each stick figure since the stick figures look nothing like the person they are meant to represent. Sometimes, they even include the family pets. Not having a family myself, I can see no conceivable purpose for these stickers. Except maybe to inform carjackers of maximum capacity or maybe as a deterrent, like a “beware of dog” sign; “Beware of little Timmy.”
Anyway, this particular Mi Familia sticker had mommy, daddy and a trail of nine smaller characters. NINE. I counted. The sticker was so big, even in comparison to this monstrosity of a vehicle, that they didn’t even have room for the names. But there was room for a nice, fat cross right next to daddy. I would have thought that representations of nine children would be enough to justify that this person was a “real man,” but apparently declaring your love of Jesus to random strangers is what really makes a man.
Ironically, I’m sure that real man looked at me with my pink hair and my knuckle tattoos and thought that I am what’s wrong with this country, but the fact that the First Amendment allows me to write this little account and allows him to boldly declare his man love and prodigious progeny on the back of his monstrous land beast is what’s right with this country.