Holiday Abominations

Well, it's that time of year again. The time where the savior for all of those afflicted with crippling holiday fever reminds us of the important teachings from 2000 years ago.

And God spake all these words, saying, I am the LORD thy God, which have brought thee out of the house of low disposable income. Yay, I say unto thee, adorn thy horseless carriage with many trinkets and animal parts. For they are clever, and holy, and are wrought with praise and admiration for thine savior on high. And the lord God continued, saying, fear not if thoust should find ones carriage low in holy spirit, for these relics are chintzy and cheap, available at thine local Mart of Wals.

Tough titties. I don't care that god said it. If you put Christmas ornaments or fake reindeer parts on your vehicle, you should be forced to watch festive elves rape your family.

Nothing says holiday cheer like a red baboon ass on the front of your SUV

What is that? Did you have a front-end collision with Martha Stewart's cunt?

Both legal and awesome looking. You were going for the "tiny-bulb fairy shit all over my car" look, right?

Oh, we're acutely aware of the autism you're clearly afflicted with. News for you, reindeer-antler-sticking-out-window people, they look like three-pronged, fuzzy, brown dicks sticking out of your windows. Honestly, the dicks would be less nonsensical than antlers.

You know what anyone that puts obnoxious and insane holiday trinkets on their car is, don't you? They're a holiday ricer; taking part in some Fast & Furious movie centered around mentally-unbalanced mall Santas. In their minds, they think they're fundamentally different than the guy that converts his turd Geo Metro into a dinosaur.

To their credit, they're correct; they are different than dino car man. You see, unlike the mall-roving ornamental graffiti people, dino man has both the creativity and the wherewithal to execute his vision completely, and commits to it all year. Much better than your half-assed automotive nativity scene.

That's right holiday ricers, you're just as stupid but even less creative than the obviously handicapped dinosaur car guy. Just throw on your disgusting and gaudy holiday Cosby sweaters and accept the fact that to everyone you meet on the road, this is what you look like:

It's embarrassing shit like this that makes Jesus hide in, and only reveal himself from, some hillbilly's toast.

Yes, I Am A Lawyer, Yes I Am Available

After spending many sleepless nights researching, and countless hours digging through the California Vehicle Code statutes, I present to you my rock solid traffic defense case, which was submitted to the court.

Your honor, the Sumerians, including the depicted king and law-maker, knew it was aliens, so it's inexcusable for a modern-day court to do anything less than a full acquittal.

I await with bated breath a decision from the court.

How To Exit In California

The trick is to know several miles in advance that you need to exit at a specific place. And then, once literally on the threshold of that place, jerk the wheel to the right and pray for all the families involved in your genocide. It's an exact science.

Like a champion jackass, you see the solid line indicating that the exit lane is done forming, and has been committed to by others, and see it as a challenge to fit in regardless of the consequences. The fucktastic logic even applies to surface streets. Want to turn left, but are in the right-most lane 45 feet from your turn? Fear not, the solution is a mere 90 degree turn, and six insurance claims away from being a reality.

Driving in the wildly incorrect lane, and expecting all others to yield to our ill-thought-out whims is a God-given right of every American. If a bunch of hatchet-wielding men on horseback couldn't stop us from taking the land this four lane road is built on, what chance does you hatchetless car stand of stopping everyone from pilfering your lane? Exactly none.

It is easier to ask forgiveness (blame it on all the other motorists using the roads correctly) than it is to ask for permission (use your frontal lobe ahead of time).

Critiques of Middle School Drawings

Behold the gull-winged pornography that is Mercedes-Benz SLS AMG. At $204,000, it's probably the cheapest cruise-missile you can buy.

Now behold the Sycamore Canyon Middle School art department's homage to the lovely beast, as viewed through the unfiltered eyes and pens of innocent children.

For Christ's sake, Patrick. How the hell do you expect to pass a safety inspection without so much
as a single suspension unit holding the wheels to the car? Not to mention that you carelessly made
 the rear wheel 1.5 times the diameter of the front one. It almost as if you have no automotive design
experience at all.

I feel like this assignment was simple, and yet your lack of understanding has proven me
quite wrong, there, Alexandra. Unless I'm wrong, I thought you were instructed to draw
the SLS that was brought in specially for us. And yet you drew some sort of mechanical
sea sponge with a hydra wrapped around it. Amazing.

Look, James, I don't know how many times we have to cover this: your lack of
perspective and imagination are wholly unacceptable. The SLS looks nothing like this
and we both know it. See me after class.

What an odd serrated ancient coin you've presented me with, Alicia. What? That's supposed
to be the SLS' wheel? Wow. Ok. Clearly, Alicia, it's mildly round at best. What chance
does the SLS have to safely operate on this "wheel" of yours? Slim to none.

Well, I see you've labeled it as a Mercedes-Benz SLS, but frankly, all I see when I look at
it is a Galapagos tortoise. Did you intend for it to be all tortoise-y? Were the added facial and
ass hairs intended to get a certain point across...or....no?

Very funny, Leira. You're fourteen years old, I would assume you know the difference
between an automobile and a grooming device, and yet you turned in this
drawing of an electric razor. You truly confuse me sometimes with how wildly incorrect
you're capable of being.

If I've told you once, I've told you a dozen times:
1) Falcore the Luck Dragon from Never Ending Story is never the answer in this class, so quit drawing it
2) Quit abbreviating your damn name. It's Ezjud Jalopy, grow up already.

I assume we were gazing upon the same SLS, Olivia; afterall, they're not easy to come by here
at Sycamore Canyon. And yet, whilst I presented a gray one to the class, you managed to
find an entirely different blue one. I hope you brought enough SLS' for the whole class since you seem
to have an abundance of them.

Ryan, this vivid imagination of your has to stop! It just has to! Why in God's name when presented
with a perfectly good Mercedes, did you choose to draw what appears to be the aftermath of one
having been blown up? This morbid curiosity of yours will be noted in the counselor's office.

Wagon wheels, Abria? Really? Maybe if we spend a little more time showing the Mercedes
some respect, and a little less time playing with that iPod shuffle you got for your
birthday, we wouldn't be in this awkward position in which you've placed us.

Yet another in a proud series of half-assed attempts Kera, good job. I know you have weight issues,
but there's little reason for you to continue to insist on drawing everything with a grotesquely bulbous ass
on it. And by the way, don't think I didn't notice your pathetic effort to scribble in some
color all over the car, including the rear glass. Very classy.

You know, Sean, I kept waiting and waiting after class, hoping that by some miracle of the gods
that another paper would show up containing the missing half of your drawing. But I see
now that you're quite content just drawing half of it, and considering that a job well done.
Well, I got news for you buck-o; it's not a job well done. Unless you took some tour of the Mercedes
plant that I'm not aware of, and drew a car that was still under construction....which I very much doubt...then
plan on repeating this course in summer school.

Industry Standard Reliablity Tests

"yes sir, this is a very fine automobile you have shown me, but one last question: can your doors support the force of an aged Guido masturbating furiously on top of them while fully extended? This is a deal breaker for me."

Although not filmed, Larry Roesch VW also performed these other crucial and accepted tests off-camera:

• Panel Dent Test: Sales team climbed up a step-ladder and used their engorged penis' to physically smack the roof panel
  • Result: Only 3 shallow dents.
• Water-tightness Test: They urinated into the partially open glove box and then quickly closed it. Then waited to see how long before glove box was devoid of urine.
  • Result: Took 4.2 minutes to fully drain. Urine smell remains.
• Paint Durability Test: The salesman dry humped the front bumper / hood for a minimum of 45 minutes and see if friction / excretions eat through the paint coating.
  • Result: Minor clearcoat damage on front bumper. Attempting to repair now.
• Fabric Stain Test: One junior member of staff climbed into the GTI's hatch, while two other member repeatedly kicked him in the dick until he started bleeding out of his orifices, onto the OEM cloth interior to see how much staining resulted.
  • Result: Blood stains absorbed, but easily concealed by the black carpet.

Try that with your Honda or Toyota!

Trim Level Discrimination: 1-Series Case Study

They say that you should never purchase the lesser of available trim levels on a new vehicle, for fear that while stopped at a traffic light, a better one would pull up next to you. Forcing your pride to shrink like a dick in a snowstorm. The similar scenario also plays out in the mind of the other owner; for them, the vehicular superiority manifests itself in an ugly phenomenon known as Trim Level Discrimination (TLD).

While not particular to any one specific make or model, TLD is easiest to analyze through the the small sect of BMW 1-Series owners. This heightened observability of TLD is largely due to three things:

• low numbers of 1-Series' on the road
• the split between only two trim levels (disregarding the recently released special 1M): the 128i and the 135i
• BMW owner's believing in the inalienable superiority of their purchase

Being a 135i driver, I thought I'd bring the issue of TLD to the foreground by illustrating what happens during my roughly once-weekly run in with another 1-Series:


* All depictions and comments below are typical mental extrapolations from the mind of 135i drivers

"Oh my, what's this I see? Does another 1-Series join me in the graces of all these inferior automobiles? It's been so long since I've seen another one. Welcome brother."
"Is it a 135i or 128i though?"
135i	128i
"Alright! It's a 135i! I almost never see those. Nice to see someone else is interested in spirited driving like I am." Moments later... "His better not be better than mine..."	"Awwwwww, how cute; it's just a 128i. That's too bad." "They're probably off to pick up some food stamps." Or... "I didn't realize BMW was in the Section 8 program." Or... "I hope their 128i came with one of those barrels with straps on it they can wear." Or... "That's a nice looking BMW...hobo Willy. All your baked bean cans fit in there?"

Thank you for your time. Remember: the owners of all lower trim level vehicles have feelings too. And they desperately need any canned food or winter clothing items you can donate to them.

Blatant On-Ramp Violations

In southern California, almost all the freeway on-ramps are controlled by a series of lights designed to limit the influx of traffic onto the already crowded freeways. As a result of this, the majority of the ramps are rather lengthy and frequently backed up with idiot drivers waiting for the lights to unleash them upon other motorists.

For approximately 20-30 minutes everyday, you'll find me in one of these magic queues, waiting to continue my life. Generally these waits go smoothly, with no rage attacks presenting themselves. It is, after all, a pretty simple process: drive forward to the car in front of you and then brake, repeat this process until you're the front most car, in which case you roast the tires when the light turns green.

Life in the queue is not all happy candy and fluffy titties though. Sadly, there are four common types of on-ramp faggory that rear their ugly heads in almost all the queues. No matter where you are, someone in the queue is invariably committing one of the following four on-ramp queue sins.

Allow me to elaborate upon the numerous public failures taking place above:

Most egregious and confusing by far is the spontaneous reversing fuckwit. Somewhere between entering the ramp with the hopes of going somewhere, and not attaining the instant gratification of actually going somewhere, this dumbass decides it's best to bail the fuck out.

They can be immediately recognized by their sharply out-of-place reverse lights, which are illuminating a whole host of people who are both unable unable to safely move and infuriated by the preceding decision.

"Have to wait ten minutes for something?! My time is too precious! I'll just drive against traffic and find some magic place where traffic has yet to permeate, which will allow me instant freeway access."

Good luck, cock.

The most common on-ramp sin by far is the poor foresight shitdick. This person has at least one passenger with them in the car, and presumably has had for quite a while. Yet, despite their vehicular buddy system and despite the blatantly available HOV lane to the far left, they choose to get in the right-most lane.

While this in and of itself is fine, somewhere between 25%-50% of their way through the queue, their obvious oversight hits them like a ton of birdshit. At this point, you'll recognize the symptoms by the never-ending blinker usage, the complete disregard for other ramp-occupants, the 45 degree angle they'll have formed against the flow of traffic, and the 5-6 car length gap that's resulted from them no longer moving forward like a normal human being.

You see, once their blinker goes on, you may be confused into thinking they're requesting lane change permission. Nay. They're simply informing you of their intentions to move left without regard to the principle that two cars cannot occupy the same space at the same time.

"Sure, forcing my way across the two other lanes will take 10 minutes, whereas staying in this lane would get me AND everyone behind me through the line in the same amount of time, but fuck that. Look out HOV lane! Here I come!"

The all-too-common BFF texting cuntsickle likes to make joyous appearances directly in front of you. Their busy life and rigorous social requirements preclude them from being an active participant in the queue. Instead, you'll quickly locate this person (a woman) by the ever increasing yawning traffic fissure in front of them.

It doesn't matter what  YOU have to do, because letting Jenny know that the cute guy at the deli totally flirted with her, and that she had the turkey club because it has very little fat, which is good because she's going to the beach this weekend with Sarah, who just broke up with her boyfriend and is devastated, but will get over it soon because that guy was a jerk anyways, similar to that guy Chad she dated a few years back that drove that red mustang and *eons pass and everyone is dead*

Coming to a queue near you is Drifty McCumbucket. Too busy listening to the newest marginally talented rap "artist" at full volume, or generally faffing about with something in the car that's NEVER near the driver, Drifty can be spotted mindlessly encroaching into your lane.

Like a zipper tooth and refuses to snap into its proper corresponding receptacle, Drifty causes a breakdown in the entire queue. By taking up twice as much space as is needed, you'll be sure to suffer as a result; but it's OK because at least everyone around Drifty can forcibly listen to their poor taste in music as a consolation gift.

It's fine Drifty, do whatever YOU need to do. That's all that matters to everyone else. You waste of road space and human meat.



Estimated time to get home now: ∞

Critical Massholes

By Critical Mass, I refer to the bicycle hipsters in the following gif:

Which was taken at a recent Critical Mass event held in Brazil; which was the best one yet, with 15 injured, and 8 in the hospital.

For those of you that don't know, Critical Mass is an event for hipsters and douches alike, that started two decades ago in San Francisco. The point of the program / event is to raise bicycle awareness by, no embellishment added, "getting in everyone's way".

For those that survived the event, kudos. You've successfully raised awareness, if the awareness you were hoping to raise was the "I fucking hate every one of you more than I already did" kind. Bikes are not cars, and no matter how much you think you're entitled to a pieces of the earth designated for horseless carriages, you're not.

But just so I'm not missing some vital part of your group's credo, let me run through it and see if I understand all the finer points of your organization:

• You're upset that you have to share the road in a way that doesn't give you the ultimate right-of-way
• Using this common rage you form a large, upwardly-mobile mob
• Said mob roams around pre-designated areas, disobeying all traffic laws in the process
• While disregarding all laws, you attempt to raise awareness by impeding vehicular traffic
• Afterwards, presumably, you all get together for a crunchy game of hacky sack.

I think that about sums it up.

Let me remind you Massholes of a few key elements that you may have forgotten, somewhere between your fifth and sixth bong rip:

• Roads are not built for you, but you're allowed to use them
• Car owners don't take lightly to the inability to drive around just because you spandex-wearing lot are trying to prove a point
• Even more so, no one outside your group give two shits about your "plight"
• On average, a car weighs 12 times as much you and moves at speeds that are multiples of yours
• Insurance to repair a car is cheaper, and any associated jail time less painful, than any medical bills or shattered limbs

What part of cruising down the middle of the fucking street seemed like a good idea to you all? Not a one of you thought it might be stupid, and that you could better raise awareness through other means? Do you see cars getting together once a month and blocking your safe operation?

Massholes are the same people that walk three or four abreast down a sidewalk, and force you to walk in the street when coming from the other direction. No one's time is as valuable as theirs, it seems, so it doesn't matter who else is inconvenienced.

Public space is not your exclusive domain. Either learn to follow the rules like everyone else, or get used to being wedged under automobiles.

You're so extreme, Broseph. People will be sure to respect you and your Schwinn now.

The real victim here is:

The poor Volkswagen that had to be injured, all so that a few hundred hipsters could feebly attempt to make some point. Look on the bright side, VW, you got to live the dream that so many of us have wanted to live for so long: bashing the fuck out of bike douches with complete disregard towards the outcome. Bravo.

Mildly Inappropriate Automotive Colors

Most automotive color names are just uninspiring, but a few are borderline inappropriate

Ford Burnt Sienna Baboon Ass

Chrysler Gilded Saudi Dildo

Dodge Tijuana Discharge Green

Chrysler Pimp Shit Bitch Metallic

BMW Poland Blazing Green

Chevrolet Obscene Cunt Orange

Jaguar Mild Diarrhea Metallic

Porsche Prolapsed Anus Pearl

Bugatti Michelin Man Cock White

Chrysler Teenage Crusty Sock Saffron

Volvo Rape Is Funny Blue

Honda Awkward Homo Touching Grey

Smart Auburn Queef coupled with Drunk Dad Shame Black

They can't all be winners.