Now. I am all for bumper stickers. As long as they're not on my car, they're great.
Yesterday, while steel wool or the likes thereof enveloped my brain, on the way home from the disastrous Dischem experience, my eyes fell upon a bumper sticker stuck to the rear of a Fiat Palio.
There appeared to be two men in their 20s sitting in the car.
We've all seen the Don't talk to me, talk to my lawyer, and Thank God I'm a black man. Amen, and I heart Brakpan.
But, and it was a sizeable sticker, mind you:
I have erectile dysfunction.
That's what it said. Just thought it was worth mentioning, in all it's atrociousness. Maybe his sister has a I have a smelly poen one.