Death Of A Car
It looks like I’m buying a new car—my Dodge Stratus has finally bit the dust. Bit it, swallowed it, and barfed it back up. And then it got hit by a freight train. So there’s that problem, too.
Okay, I’m joking about the train. But I am buying a car, and it’s a dark, dark day. It’s a day for Sauron, Voldemort, and Vader to get together and laugh. Because they’re all part of franchises that made tons of money, so who cares about the MRSP on a Winged Nazgul?
HEY, MONEY ISN’T EVERYTHING, GUYS! Last time I checked, none of you had girlfriends. I’m getting sidetracked here…
Car dealers are all a bunch of gangsters. They want to charge me for floormats, charge me for anti-lock brakes, charge me for a radio.
Uh, by the way, how much to remove the dead body in the trunk?
GPS is the hot new option. It talks and tells you where you are all the time. It says, “You’re lost, dumb-ass. You’re lost and you’re deep in debt, HA-HA! Please send in your next payment. And look on the bright side—at least you didn’t buy something made by General Motors.”
It’s true, I’m getting a Honda.
my exciting life | joeythesquash | 
May 26, 2009 9:28 am
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