Messenger Puppet

Cruising into work this morning  (at a snail’s pace – thanks again, photo radar!!) and this song comes on the radio…

What a stupid piece of shit song, right?  Well, it’s also nostalgic (in a pathetic, demented sort of way).

• first time I heard it was at the FSK house
• (at a kegger – big surprise)
• The Romantics were from Detroit.  Detroit music was cool – WLLZ (Whole lotta Led Zepplin)  WRIF (Baby!), Motown (as I learned later).  Even Ted Nugent (pre-insanity) compared to the tighty whitey repress your inner weirdo nature of my location
• I could tell anonymous frat girls that I liked them, because it was in the lyrics.
• No, it did not get me laid
• Neither did getting messed up from Budweiser, FWIW, although I sure felt cool.

Why is this car ok and the other pig not OK?  Simple:

1. It’s parked.  Not running = not burning MY gas.
2. It has no plate, therefore it is just a piece of inventory.
3. Not being used for commuting. 
4. These cars serve one purpose:  to get blow jobs for their owners.  There is never anything wrong with that.
5. (Hummers are for people who lack enough Enzyte and Viagra to accomplish this simple event)
6. More usable trunk space than an H2
7. Can beat me in any race (except mpg).  Never criticize your betters – it makes you a small person.

Gas goes down to a sane level and who comes out to play?  Fatass McCheese and his hummer.  Fuck you, sir.  You’re wasting all MY gas.