Why talk about this shitbox? I saw four – FOUR – of these before lunch today, and the one pictured is a clone of the one pops picked out.
A road trip to Bloomington/Normal, Illinois to watch Bob Perryman eat a fist on TV with 8 Barrel, Phid and Bagman. Plenty of room for screaming loons. Privacy glass for Bagman in the back to flip off the cops.
In our last episode, Budget Rent A Car inside Fry’s did not have anyone at their service counter, because some guy was washing the salesman and hooker smell from a Dodge Penis Compensator Charger. How “convenient.”
Today, still washing, but there is a second guy there to actually service the customers.
No sign stating “I am right here, for your ‘convenience,'” which would have been pretty funny.
But back to the other guy. He has a Dodge shitboxNeon Caliber that needs to be vacuumed, and the bird shit licked off its hood. I go in, the hood is getting its tongue bath; I come out and the mondo suck 9000 is removing all the crusty fries from between the seats.
So how does this translate to hating America? Simple. On both passes, the engine was running. Sweet Jesus motherfucking tomatoes, what the hell are you doing? Do you not understand the most basic concepts of supply and demand? You are creating demand. OPEC is not creating additional supplies to compensate. Price goes up. Thanks so much, especially after another $55 fill up yesterday. The world is a better place because you were spared the burden of stopping and restarting a car 10 minutes later. I should be grateful.
[Ed.: We are reminded by eagle-eyed reader OG Fred that because the subject car was a Dodge Caliber, restarting it after stopping it is not all that much of a guaranteed outcome. (Like Marky Mark’s Nova in Invincible.) So, maybe the dude had no real choice. So, never mind.]
Me: Oooh, a cop. Let’s take a picture. [^^^] Cop: Oooh, an asshole with a camera. Let’s find a violation. Me: Speed limit 55 mph; cruise control at 52 mph, bitch. Cop: Cop computer, fucker. Step one – run plate for APBs and or possible transportation of doughnuts. Step 2 – follow this asshole for a couple of miles to see if he flinches. Or if he’s liquored up after the singles bar. Me: Not my first time with a cop’s nose up my ass. Also, cruise control, bitch. Cop: I’m bored.
*speeds off to find the next person to harass*
Me: Just like that speed trap in Wayland Michigan. Mustang with cruise 1, Cops 0. Dick. Me: Thank Bo for up to date plates.