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Category: cars

Italians Covering A German Car With Chinese Gift Wrap

Italians Covering A German Car With Chinese Gift Wrap


No matter how old you are, matchbox cars never go out of style. Whether you’re a little kid dipping them in wet sand, or an adult covering them with wrapping paper there are a million ways to customize your hot wheels. Even if you should know better.

While it’s an indisputable fact that the 2003 Ford Escape is the greatest automobile ever made, some people seem to have latched onto the idea that the Volksenegger Golf is anything more than a Burberry-soaked, chav-wagon. It’s driven by the sort of people who hang around parking lots after dark, so they can meet up with other Golf owners and murmur about their cheap body kits. I’m not just basing this on something I read on the Intertunnel, either. I’ve got cold, hard proof. I know three people in real life who own Volkswiffle Golfs, and they’re all tremendous arseholes. I know that all generalizations are false, but if you dive a Volkskraken Golf I’m going to avoid you at parties and say mean things about you when you leave the room.

Oh yeah, and they also did a really good job wrapping the car, or whatever.

The Car Built For Номёя

The Car Built For Номёя

I’m not ashamed to admit that the car in the video goes faster than mine. I’m pretty sure that it gets better gas mileage too, but I can’t tell. They’re using some kind of off-brand metric system to measure everything. Our  cars get three trench-lengths to the soul of one capitalist lackey!  Our tractor can plow four central oblast latrine chutes per pound of suet!

Then again, the used car I’m supposed to be driving got decommissioned like a rusty destroyer in 1946 during the Cash for Clunkers Five-Year Plan extravaganza we had a few years back. All I’ve got it is a rusty bicycle with two under-inflated tires, so it’s not too difficult to go faster than I do, and my gas mileage isn’t really an issue. Mom fills me up with Walmart hot dogs and grilled cheese sandwiches, and I pedal as fast as I can. The EPA,  NHTSA,  and the DOT don’t have a measurement for it yet. They’re still working on polar bears to the ice floe ratios, and cow farts per troposphere tangent. They’ll get around to Schwinn cranks to the pothole eventually, I hope.

All in all, that is one spiffy looking vehicle. It’s definitely got a dash of Soviet Bloc of cheese in the design, and it has angles sharp enough to cut that cheese, too. No matter; it’s something I’d drive if I was given the chance. As long as it can go 300 hectares on a hogshead of kerosene I’d say that it’s one of the best cars to come out of the collapsing Soviet Union. At least he can take solace in the killer sound system and listen to the Leningrad Cowboys on the way to his job at the concrete baby shoe factory.

Sometimes, There’s A Man…

Sometimes, There’s A Man…


… I won’t say a hero, ’cause, what’s a hero? But sometimes, there’s a man. And I’m talkin’ about the dude who can back up his truck with a busted transmission. Sometimes, there’s a man, well, he’s the man for his time and place. He fits right in there. And that’s the Dude, in his Nissan Pathfinder. And even if he’s a lazy man — and the Dude was most certainly that. Quite possibly the laziest to own a Nissan Pathfinder, which would place him high in the runnin’ for laziest worldwide. But sometimes there’s a man, sometimes, there’s a man. Aw. I lost my train of thought here. But — aw, hell. I’ve done introduced him enough.

(Many thanks to our dear friend Charles Schneider for sending this one our way)

Fool Me Once, Shame On You; Fool Me Twice, Shame On Me; Fool Me Three Times And There’s Gonna Be Trouble

Fool Me Once, Shame On You; Fool Me Twice, Shame On Me; Fool Me Three Times And There’s Gonna Be Trouble

You’d think that after the second or third try it would finally sink in that the fuel cap is on the wrong side of the car. I don’t know what sort of depraved, warped, perverse human would put the fuel cap on the left hand side of the car. I can easily see how the confusion arose in the first place. She looked like she was going through the Kübler-Ross model of grief every time she stepped out of the car.

This reminds me of a game I used to play with my friends: Is It Wrong Or European? There are many variations of  the game, and I really wouldn’t talk about them in mixed company, but you get the idea. Now, the casual viewer at home has probably noticed that the video is indeed taking place in Europe, so that explains everything. Or does it? I would venture that it’s not only European, which is bad enough, it’s frightfully, dreadfully, horrifyingly wrong. They live in a country that’s been driving on the wrong side of the road for so long they put the driver’s seat on the wrong side to try and compensate, but that only made things worse.

They’re too far gone at this point; I don’t think they could right themselves if they tried. It’s as habitual as breathing for them, so there’s nothing we can do to save them. Our only option is nuke it from orbit — it’s the only way to be sure that it doesn’t spread to sensible countries.