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NASCAR: Because Only Communists Turn Right

NASCAR: Because Only Communists Turn Right

(Warning: the author says a bad word in the article and he’s very, very sorry. He would like to apologize to his mother directly: Sorry, Mom.)

I know this has probably been said before, but when the most exciting thing people can think of is driving around in an oval for about three hours, then there might be a bigger problems afoot than the nation going soft. Yes, an enormous portion of the population has gone a bit soft with their gluten-free, vegan-safe, non-dairy cupcakes that don’t cast a shadow and sucks carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that NASCAR is mind-numbingly boring.

Before an angry mob of NASCAR fans arrive at my house wielding pitchforks and foam fingers, I should probably explain what I meant by mind-numbingly boring. What I mean is that NASCAR is like watching paint dry with your eyes closed. It’s like watching grass grow if your grass grew particularly slowly. NASCAR is, subjectively, on par with soccer — neither hold my interest for longer than a few agonizing seconds, and they both fill me with regret for the rest of the day because I’ll never get those seconds back.

Then again, I don’t think NASCAR, or anyone who watches NASCAR, really gives a flying fart what I think on the matter. Partially because I talk like a fag and my shit’s all retarded, but mostly because I’m not their target audience; I am a culture vulture. I pick apart the corpses of discarded movies and TV shows looking for jokes to steal and that’s about it it. I don’t buy anything, I skip all of the advertising, and I don’t watch tee vee in general. I’m no use to the National Association of Stock Car Auto Racing, but I’ll still talk about their video because the whole ordeal gives me a bit of a giggle. I think racing is about as exciting as euthanizing a loved one, but that doesn’t mean other people can’t enjoy it.

Racing is a noble sport with enthusiastic fans, and it gets a lot of grief from people I don’t particularly care for, so it gets two thumbs up from me. Just don’t ask me to watch any of it, because I’ll gnaw my legs off by the end of the third lap. NASCAR shouldn’t feel bad though, pretty much everything on NBC makes me want to commit ritualistic suicide after a few minutes of watching.

I Don’t Know What This Is, But I Want Ten Of Them

I Don’t Know What This Is, But I Want Ten Of Them

Before you judge someone you must walk a mile in their shoes. I don’t think I need to get up off my seat to judge his questionable clothing. His shoes aren’t the problem, which might come as a surprise to some savvy readers who noticed that I started off with the shoe line; it’s everything else. The pants, the hat, and the lack of a shirt have me both intrigued and terrified.

I want an Archwood Flextrek 37,000,000,000,000 Whipsnake more than I want to see the sun rise every morning, but I’m really on the fence about the rest of the outfit. I’m no outdoorsman, but I think pants and a shirt of some sort are prerequisites for wandering around the wilderness. This isn’t Nam, there are rules. Le Crevasse isn’t cutting it, buddy. If I wanted to watch a bunch of pale men wander around aimlessly while murmuring to themselves about their awesome fanny packs, I’d hang out with the press pool during the presidential primaries.

They’re Very Musical People, Aren’t They?

They’re Very Musical People, Aren’t They?

Storage facility owners, that is — I’m not sure what you thought I was referring to. Don’t look at me like that, you know it’s just a joke. I know no one’s laughing, but it was worth a shot. I’d classify it as dead on arrival, but someone might have caught what I was pitching and chuckled.

You see, in the modern world of telling bad jokes on the Intertunnel, it’s hard to tell what will get a giggle out of people, and what will get the SWAT team sent to your house. I try to land somewhere in the region of getting disapproving looks from across the dinner table. Any further than that and someone might give me a stern talking to, which is the last thing I want. The trick is to be so vague and incomprehensible that no one actually knows if you’ve said anything bad or not.

If all else fails, just tell everyone that you were trying to start a commentary on the current political climate. That line works regardless of what the current political climate actually is, Think of it as a get out of jail free card for being a twerp on the Intertunnel. I’m the foremost twerp on the Intertunnel, so it’s a good idea to take my advice to heart.

I’ve Seen Enough Japanese Food Network To Know Where This Is Going

I’ve Seen Enough Japanese Food Network To Know Where This Is Going

This ad isn’t very effective. Ads are designed to give the user the overwhelming feeling that they need a product, item, or pickup truck. After watching this, all that I want is 100 Japanese maids. I don’t even know why I’d need them, or what I’d do with them, but I want them anyways.

I don’t even know what they’re trying to sell in the first place. Probably some kind of Downton Abbey starter kit, but with more tentacles. Regardless of what they’re selling, I don’t particularly want any. On the other hand, I don’t think I could go another day without a fleet of Japanese maids at my disposal. I hope that they can do more than just make pancakes. What if I want French toast, or an omelette?

If they only made pancakes I’d be very disappointed. Having 100 Japanese maids that can only make a single pancake is like having a Lamborghini that you can only drive around in your garage. This isn’t a problem for someone with a huge garage, but you’ll die from carbon monoxide poisoning eventually — the same could be said for pancakes.