… I’d bring down the house — literally.
There would be no survivors. There would be no mercy. I’d make Genghis Khan look like the cross-dressing, girly, pony-obsessed dweeb he was. If Stalin saw my circus he’d tell me to seek professional help then slowly back out of the room. Cats and dogs would rain from the heavens and fire and brimstone would rise from the Earth. There would be blood, and pain, as you cannot imagine.
But other than that we’d have a lovely time.
I need to find me a woman who wants five hundred kids. Every girl I meet just runs away and calls the police when I tell them I want five hundred babies. Maybe if I told them I needed the babies for science they would be more willing. People will do anything for science, good vibes, and granola bars.
Still, there’s the matter of five hundred babies. That’s a pretty hectic baby making schedule. If I spend all my time making babies I won’t be able to blather all over the intertunnel, so I think I’ll just farm out my baby making to you, the readers. Go out and do me proud. Bring me five hundred babies by next year, or I’ll be very disappointed.
[Note: I would advise starting the video from the 37 second mark to get to the juicy bits]
I think we all knew someone like this in high school. That one kid who would always wear an overcoat in the summer, and try to show you his collection of roadkill. You know, the guy who would try to pick up girls by telling them about all the knives he has in his trailer. If no one is coming to mind then you’re missing out. Nothing beats awkwardly eating lunch with a guy who’s really passionate about sharp objects.
Anyways, our old friend seems to be doing quite well for himself. He’s still got that knife fetish, but that’s easy to look past. At least he’s employed. I figured I’d see him on the wrong end of a police standoff someday, but being wrong can sometimes be an immense relief. If you ever bump into him, please for the love of god don’t tell him where I live. When I was a freshman I accidentally called his butterfly knife a switchblade, and I’ve been hiding from him ever since.
The sign in the background says built for it; that sends quite a confusing message. Do they mean their machinery was built for Jenga? Building these machines for the sole purpose of playing oversized Jenga seems a bit silly. I mean, they’re really limiting their audience. The people at Cat® need to think big. Those machines can be used for much much more than just parlor tricks. What about off-road racing, or carpooling? You can sure fit a lot of people in the scoop of a front end loader. Why not roll up to the office in the style and luxury provided by your brand new Cat®?
I guess this ad can only appeal to a certain niche audience. The sort of people who play hopscotch with jump jets, and Battleship with real battleships. It’s not my place to judge, but I think they’re missing out. They’ll never know they joy of making pancakes with your single drum roller. The sweet wafting smell of diesel passing through your open cab as your cruise down the highway. Even something as simple as carrying your child to day care in an excavator bucket is lost on them.
Explore every possible use for your heavy machinery. The contraption with the mean looking spike could make a fair toothpick.
[Many thanks to Gerard at American Digest who was also built for it, among other thing]