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I Find Your Lack Of Yakety Sax Disturbing

I Find Your Lack Of Yakety Sax Disturbing

I’m not sure if this is the best driving I’ve ever seen, or the worst. I suppose the commuters don’t have much of a say in the matter. The intersection seems to have been planned by the low bidder and constructed by a fleet of drunken toddlers. Placing a stop sign or two would have done a world of good, but it must have been too much for their budget to handle. It’s hard to pay for a road with goats and virgins; the exchange rate is just not in your favor.

When it comes right down to it the whole affair looks half finished. They all must have lost interest and gone home before they got around to painting the stripes.

Luckily, the lanes are just suggestions. As long as you drive between the pedestrians and glance out the windshield occasionally there shouldn’t be a problem. Drive fast, take chances, and never take your foot off the gas.

God help you if you’re on a motorcycle.

[Many thanks to the impeccable and good-looking Dad Of Home Schoolers for sending this along]

The Greatest Sound Ever Made By Humans

The Greatest Sound Ever Made By Humans


Those fellows with the powdered wigs and the pianofortes back in the day in Vienna tried to make the greatest sounds ever made by humans, but fell a bit short. The dinner bell comes to mind. That’s a really, really good sound, of course. The dulcet tones of the words “Open Bar” come to mind as pretty sweet, of course. “Hey, baby, I just got back from shopping at Victoria’s Secret” has fired many a endorphin receptor, naturally, but it’s not the best thing, ever.

The greatest sound ever produced by man is the sound of a Model T starting.

Yer Doin’ It Wrong

Yer Doin’ It Wrong


A 2600 horsepower, 1963 Ford Falcon? Hells yes!

But no, no, no. You can’t make it look like that. You should paint it that stale eggnog color popular on Fords back in the day. Get rid of the flashy wheels, and put some stamped steel with a bit of rust on the edges on there. Put a couple dents in a fender. Put a bent coat hangar in the little socket where the AM radio antenna used to go. Get some fuzzy dice, or a tassel from a high school graduation mortarboard, and hang it from the rear view mirror.

Then pull up next to, to, well, anything at a stoplight –from a Corvette to a Lambo — and give the guy the finger. When the light turns green, show him who’s boss. Very, very boss.

Borderline Sociopathic Russian Commuter

Borderline Sociopathic Russian Commuter


Here’s to you, Sergei, or Yevgeny, or Ivan, or whatever your name is. You know rules are for rubes, and rubles smooth over any misunderstandings with the politsiyeh over your innovative approach to commuting. You’re not rude — you’re inspired. Let the sheep keep it between the trees. You go your own way. Like a boss.