YSaC, Vol. 946: Duck Season! Wabbit Season! Toyota Season!
2011 March 17
White Toyota With Bullet Holes – $3700 (STX)
The bullet holes are no big deal since they are only .22 caliber. There are 11 bullet holes. Inspection is good till Nov 2011, at which time it will need a new windshield. The two passenger windows are shot out. No AC. Automatic transmission, 184K miles. Runs good.
Um. Right. I wonder what caliber WOULD be considered a problem to this individual? .33? .45? 125mm tank shells? 155mm howitzer? ACME brand 16-ton weight?
Thanks for the poser, Stacy!
Are the bullet holes because there is no A/C?
I’m thinking it would have been easier to roll down the windows. But what do I know.
And the definition of ‘runs good’ is obviously not: faster than a bullet.
“I’m thinking it would have been easier to roll down the windows. But what do I know.”
Well, they tried that, that’s why the windows are shot out. But that obviously didn’t work well enough, so they added some extra holes up top.
That’s what happens when you don’t get the convertible option.
Convertible option = can opener?
Is white the only color this comes in? I was sort of hoping for a black car.
Can I maybe get one with larger bullet holes? More like a 9mm or maybe even a .44?
That’s the problem with used car lots these days, they never have the car you really want.
Well I gots my shootin’ car out back. It’s a Black ’73 Gremlin and is mostly full o’ .30-06 holes. I could put a few 50-cal into ‘er if you be wantin’ the delux model. But that’ll cost a bit extra.
I can drag it ’round to your place soon as you got the cash.
Aint got no cash but I kin trade ya a couple-three gallons of … “spring water”.
What kind of spring water? I won’t even get outta bed for water that’s less’n 30 proof.
It’s kinda weak, so far only three people have been blinded.
I love the concept of “couple-three”. It’s sort of like it depends on mood, weather, sunspots, moon phases or other vagaries as to the actual amount.
Wail gnao, t’as ah raht com’n new-mer-cal ahmnt uset har in Texas.
Y’ought come an’ vis’t, ‘spec’lly here’n itz Sprang an’ ahl; afore et gtz haut’nuff t’hafta have they air cond’t’ning on an’ all.
One them whyte linen sootes is opt’nal, nat’rly; if stylish, y’hear?
I was lead to believe this car was minty…
It has flavour holes!
Ahhh! Extra “u”s are trickling down from Canadia!
Yes, it has plenty of lead rolling around on the floorboards.
It would only have been minty if it had been impaled with 11 spear holes. Then it would have been spearminty.
*yuk yuk*
If you spray it with Mace it would be pepperminty 😉
True dat; true dat….
🙂
If you put Peanuts in it, it would be Peppermint Patty.
Only on St. Patrick’s Day.
Park it in a place where rice is grown and it’s a peppermint paddy.
If you put a rum in it, it would be a mojito.
What? No Beyonce song to go with that Hammy?
Cause if you like it then you shoulda put a rum in it
If you like it then you shoulda put a rum in it
Don’t be mad once you see that he want it
If you like it then you shoulda put a rum in it
Wha-oh-oh-oh-oh-ooh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Please forgive me while I barf.
It is minty. Can’t you see the flavor crystals?
Those crystals aren’t flavour, but they might give you the ability to see flavours.
“Yellow tastes magical.”
– My best friend (said as he ate a colored pencil)
Rust and lead taste minty? Who knew?
Oh the irony.
Sure, the bullet holes are no big deal — a little Poly-Filla will get your car up just above ghetto spec. The real problems are the blood stains on the upholstery and the question of whether or not the police are still looking for the vehicle. Also, there looks to be a ton of rust where the paint flecked off around those bullet holes. That might constitute just a little bit of a “deal”. Also also, is that rear wheel using the spare?
It does look like one of those little spares; given the proximity of the rusty bullet holes it’s easy to guess what happened to the regular tire.
It’s just a flesh wound.
Still bleeding 30W oil? What bandage would you use on that?
A steel-belted one.
I guess it’s too expensive to trophy mount a Toyota. Better to hold out for a twelve point BMW with custom wheels.
Anything with the distinctive front grille is usually worth it; I hear the Rolls is rare and highly prized.
I’ve got my heart set on a Humvee with a Prius in its jaws.
You’re probably kidding, but that sounds like a party. I love to party.
Some days you’re the Humvee, and some days you’re the Prius.
I’m married (to a man), so I’m pretty sure I’ll never be the Prius. (Jeff Dunham anyone?)
“Arlen?! What the hell are you doing to our car?!”
“I’m jus’ puttin’ speed holes in it, ma.”
Is that because of speed or are they meant to increase speed?
Yes.
Thank you for clearing that up, AR ♥
She’s such a helpful little thing, isn’t she?
Hehe…
I do what I can. ; )
Any information about pesky bloodstains?
As it was phrased to my friend, “Nobody has ever died in the car.”
Club soda and vigorous rubbing should get them out.
Or so I hear.
Vigorous rubbing gets a lot of things
offout.That’s a hard on to believe.
Maybe that’s what happened to Sparky’s couch yesterday – he misread the cleaning instructions.
Remember, the first thing to come out of a pecil is the wrinkles.
What?
I thought it was the lead…
I’m more worried about other kinds of stains.
Semi-on topic – this ad reminded me of something I read.
I like to read the police blotter in the paper because weird things often happen that don’t rate a full article. Several years ago I saw something that has stuck with me; an old truck was stolen from a man’s driveway and found partially submerged in a nearby pond with all of its windows broken and its tailgate damaged from several blasts from a shotgun, (I think the estimated amount of the damages was around $500) and there were no suspects at the time.
I would dearly love to know the story behind that particular item.
And thus today’s Mindfield, CJ, Hammy, Yancey, or ?’s story was born.
Oh, the freaky-puppy is already working on one I’m sure.
You guys know me too well. 🙂 I went in a little different direction though, because the photos of the car look like they were taken from a dealer’s lot.
I’m gonna bow out on this one. I was thinking something about a hunter in the concrete jungle, but that to me sounded vaguely terrorist-y. That was the general feel of Captain Destructo at first, but I decided it wouldn’t be a good idea. So I did what Hollywood did to The Sum of All Fears (in order to enjoy that movie I have to pretend it’s not based on Clancy’s awesomeness) and changed the backstory of the antagonist.
[ot name info] Just as an observation (might come off as really snarky ’cause there’s no tone of voice in email, web posts or other text communication, and for that I apologize) I’ve found that people who hear my name misspell it and people who see it spelled mispronounce it. I’ve seen and heard Chauncy, Clancy, and several other variations. One pizza chain employee couldn’t read his co-worker’s scribble, so just sorta made a noise that sounded like “yeah” when my order was ready. But I knew it was for me. When I met a great person who later became one of my closest friends, we were both wearing nametags. The first thing Nancy said to me was “hey, our names rhyme!” The first thing I said to her was “no they don’t.” Still feel bad about that, and I’m really glad she didn’t hold it against me. ‘Cause she’s too awesome to do so. My mom suggested when I turned 18 that I could change my name if I wanted to, ’cause she knew I’d been correcting misspellings and mispronunciations my whole life. But what would I choose? Going from such a unique name to anything else just seemed wrong to me. So that’s my backstory. Sorry it turned out longer than I intended. My fingers have a mind of their own sometimes.[/ot name info]
Is it pronounced Yawn-see?
Okay, so now I gotta know….how is it pronounced if it doesn’t rhyme with Nancy?
YMCA
Yes SJ, Yawn-see. I entered it into a site that tracked name statistics once to see how common it was. The result stated that based on the analysis of 4000 people, my name never occurred.
*rolls eyes*
Lemme tell you about my real first name….and no I’m not going to reveal it here.
It’s been mangled, jangled, mashed and bruised so often that if anyone gets anything remotely close to it I usually answer.
My last name is like that.
As an analogy, it would seem there are a large number of people who walk around pronouncing “pillar” as “pill are”.
*Sigh*
I have to introduce myself when I answer the phone at work and an astonishing number of people think that when I say “Sara” I actually mean “Beth” and that is what they call me. Among other things.
That’s just crazy, Melony! How can people screw that up?
People seem to have no trouble pronouncing my name even when seeing it written. Only about half of the people I’ve dealt with end up spelling it correctly, though, and there are some who, upon first hearing my name, think it starts with a D.
Creepy-Puppy doesn’t even sound like it has a D in it. Silly people.
I’ve stopped correcting people when they try to spell my first name. It’s not difficult, it’s just not the most common spelling. The fun part is that it’s 8 letters long, but I’ve seen people squish it down to 5 and not even come CLOSE to having the correct letters involved.
I’ve even screwed up your first name…
and my last name…
and my first name once…
Still haven’t messed up Trawn’s!
Crap.
There, there, BurritoScience – It happens to everyone.
It’s sweet of you to comfort him like that, Beth.
Are you sure they aren’t holding their noses and saying, “bath”
If you can pay $3,700 for a car riddled with only a handfull of bullets and a pair of missing windows, then I think you could certainly expect to get something nice for $1,000.
Something only partially run over by a train.
Or something “lake bottom adjacent” for about $100. It comes with free fish!
Just don’t look in the trunk. Ever.
The trunk is hard to open anyway because the cement that embedded the objects in it hadn’t set properly by the time it was put into the vehicle.
Our Featured Poster has to unload the Toyota. He already had bagged three SUVs and a motorcycle, and severely wounded a waste disposal truck. The Toyota was over his limit, he knew, but it was just rambling around the meadow, totally unaware of the hunters. Just for fun, he sighted along his weapon, and then his finger slipped! Eleven times! So please, have a heart. I mean, a carburetor, and call now.
A certain hard-to-see yet still cuddly elder god is whisking it’s way across the country to you at the speed of USPS as I type.
I’m too cheap to use package tracking services, so I guess it’s at least got a reasonable chance of making it over to you.
This would look really good hanging from a swingset in my backyard. And then I could bedazzle the tires and make some really sparkly swings out of them.
sarajean, I have to put you back in the box today. Sorry, but you have to accept the consequences of your actions yesterday. Try to tone it down a notch today, okay?
I’ll be quiet and just clean up a bit while I’m in here.
Hey, I found a tooth!
Are you going to sell it on Craigslist?
I can trade you a couple bullets potentially used for decorating a car.
I was going to dress it up like a cowboy, but I suppose I could do both.
Who tries to take a car out with .22s? Amateurs. Why not just save the ammo and stab it with a butter knife? Pfft. This is what happens when you let your neighbor’s cousin run your collection racket. Remember that fuck? Well his shit didn’t work. This guy not only didn’t pay, but readily admits they’re no big deal. Not even scared a little bit about repercussions. Looks like we’re gonna have to put strong arm robbery/racketeering back on the syllabus.
Reminds me of my first job. When the cars didn’t pay up I had to go out and break their hub-caps.
*Puts on dark sunglasses, a fedora, and grabs a guitar*
Racin’ by in my automobile
Body beside me at the wheel
I stole some stuff back half a mile
my adrenaline is running wild.
Dodgin’ and weavin’ as I go
Addin’ one more bullet hole.
That.Was.Awesome.
This sort of makes a nice companion car for the one I heard about on Car Talk last week — a man bought a used car, and when fishing around under the seat, his kid found a $100 bill. A little later, he was cleaning the car and found another $100 bill under his seat. He’s getting ready to take it apart to find what he thinks is a whole stash. Maybe this is the car whose driver inflicted the bullet holes?
Or, like the goose that laid the golden egg, once he takes it apart it won’t work so good anymore.
Speaking of, my daughter used to take apart every wristwatch anyone ever gave her. She was not so hot at putting them back together. The goldfish was grateful that she didn’t transfer her curiosity on to him*.
*this may or may not be true. For the two years we had Bart, he was pretty much over-the-top stupid.
Indeed. The term “Goldfish Brain” is in no danger of becoming a compliment anytime soon.
And here all along I thought it meant “pretentious.”
I bet this thing whistles more than the Andy Griffith theme song.
It’s the mullet of musical cars: Andy Griffith in the front, Sweet Georgia Brown in the back.
It’s nice and all, but…. does it have a Carfax??
What do you think they were trying to shoot at? That cunning car fox (say that 3 times really fast).
*fails*
Abner’s heart leapt as he looked out his office’s window and saw someone checking out one of the cars on his lot. Although he was always up to the challenge of seeing a customer drive off his lot in one of his “pre-cherished” vehicles, this particular car had been a bigger challenge than most. It had been sitting on his lot for months and had yet to budge. It just made him try harder to move it, and so when he saw someone looking at it — the first one this week, and it was already near the end of the week — he raced out of the office to greet this potential buyer.
“Hello, hello, hello!” Abner called enthusiastically as he closed the distance to the customer.
The man appeared startled, but stood and faced him. “Uh, hi. Hi.”
“Abner’s the name,” Abner said, proffering his hand in greeting. “Abner Riesenkopf, but my friends call me Abbie, and I’m the owner of Abbie Used Cars. This here is quite the beaut, ain’t she? 2004 model, great condition, runs like a dream, just a hunnert ‘n eight-four thousand miles on ‘er. Just eight thou on the sticker — but you look like you know a good thing when you see it, so I’mma let it go for just seven, how’s that strike ya?”
The customer did shake his hand when initially offered, but seemed a little baffled during the pitch. “Um, well, I had a few questions.”
“Of course!” Abner laughed. “Wouldn’t trust a man that didn’t ask questions. Fire away!”
“Yeah, um, interesting choice of words because, see, um …” The gentleman started pointing out areas on the passenger side frame and windows. “Are these bullet holes?”
“What? Oh!” Abner laughed again. “Those! Yes, yes, those are in fact bullet holes. But don’t worry, though, they’re little .22 caliber holes — pea shooters, really, easy to fix up. A little spackle, some paint, you’ll be good as new — I’ll even throw in the supplies m’self.”
“But … how?” the man asked, puzzled. “Why? Where did they come from? How do you know the caliber?”
“Ah,” Abner said, a little abashed. “Well, y’see, that was a little promotion, didn’t go quite the way I planned. “See, I had a one day thing where I put one o’ them blow up dolls in the passenger seat, and whoever could hit it right between the eyes with a .22 from an angle 50 feet away would get free financin’ on it.”
One of the gentleman’s eyebrows had floated up to his hairline. “Seriously? You had people shoot at the car they wanted to buy to save a little money on it?”
“I admit, it wasn’t one of my more successful promotions,” Abner confessed.
The man traced his fingers over the bullet holes and peered through the passenger side window — or the spot where the window used to be, anyway. “No windows on this side of the car,” he remarked.
“Yeah, they got blown out during the promo. That’s why I’m knockin’ some money off the price — more than it should cost to fix, really, which is all the more incentive to seriously consider this fine automobile!”
The gentleman placed a hand on the passenger seat; there were a couple of bullet holes in the back and headrest. He seemed to notice something, and looked a little closer. “Wait, is that … is that blood?”
“What?” Abner said again, shocked — and then he realized what it was the man was looking at. “Oh! Oh, that, no, sir, that’s not blood.”
“Well, what is it, then?” he asked dubiously.
“Chocolate.”
“Chocolate?”
“Yep, chocolate.’ Abner adjusted his tie. “See, came Easter, I had another promotion. To celebrate the season, I put a three-foot chocolate bunny in the passenger seat of every car, and whoever bought a car got the bunny absolutely free as a treat.”
The man looked on expectantly. “And?”
“Well” Abner continued. “Seems it got a might on the temperate side that day, and the cars that hadn’t been sold yet, well, their bunnies kinda melted.”
The man closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. “I see.”
“T’ain’t the best outcome I coulda hoped for, but the ones I did sell that hadn’t melted yet, well, they went over great!”
The man stuck his head further in through the passenger side window, then came out with a sour look on his face. “Okay, then why does it smell like rancid meat in there?”
“Still?” Abner exclaimed. He yanked opened the passenger door and started looking around, down the center console, under the floor mat, under the seat — and there it was. “Gall dangit!” he exclaimed as he retrieved a fetid, rotting steak that was mostly goo by now, still sitting in its styrofoam tray, wrapped in leaky plastic. “I thought I found ’em all!”
“Let me guess,” the man said with a sardonic look on his face. “Another promotion?”
“Car full o’ steak,” Abner nodded in agreement. “Well, half full. Just the passenger sides. Had to keep at least half the car free so customers could get behind the wheel.”
“Didn’t work out?” the gentleman sighed.
“Oh, the menfolk liked it! Sold quite a few cars that day, and I don’t doubt there were quite a few barbecues that night. Only ran the promo for one day ’bout three weeks ago, this is the only car that didn’t sell, so I kept the remainin’ steaks inside for m’self — ‘cept’n o’course for this one I apparently missed.” Abner tossed the erstwhile meat off into the bushes. Several small woodland animals scurried out.
“Of course,” the man said, clearly becoming exasperated. “I think I’ve seen enough.” He began to walk away, obviously having lost all interest in the car.
He had to save this one. “Oh, but wait!” Abner pleaded, dashing up behind the gentleman and clasping his shoulder with one hand while maneuvering around to get in front of him. “This car’s got a little something extra special here, absolutely free, if you’ll just allow me to show you. Only car I’m offering this with, too!”
Despite the worried look on the man’s face, he allowed himself to be led back to the car, where Abner fished a set of keys out of his pocket and opened the trunk. He allowed the trunk’s springs to reveal the prize within as he turned to regard the customer. “Viola!” he said with a flourish of his hand toward the trunk moments before the smell punched him in the nose like the stinky fist of Poseidon himself. Startled and mortified, he turned back to the truck.
The buckets of seafood were covered in flies and the stench was overwhelming. Abner covered his mouth and nose with the crook of his arm, muttering to himself. “I don’t understand, I just put that in there last night, it should still be fresh! That steak lasted all day!” He turned back to the customer, but it took him a moment to realize the man had lost altitude and was now lying on the ground, unconscious.
“Got dangit!” Abner cursed. Another promotion shot down — in a manner of speaking. He knew he was never going to sell this heap now unless he did something really big.
As he walked back to his office to retrieve the smelling salts from his first aid kit, his mind started to work. He was going to have to get rid of that fish now, naturally, and probably spray the whole thing with several cans of air freshener. But he was going to have to do something really spectacular to get people’s attention if he wanted to sell that car now.
A slow smell crept across his face. He knew what he needed to do. He’d have to put on a show of sorts — have something really bright and sparkly, like fireworks or something. Oh, that would grab people’s attention for sure. And he knew just where to get a few tons of thermite, too.
*voila*
Sorry, I don’t know where that grammar LimeLolly came from… Viola is my grandmother’s name.
The misspelling (or rather, in context, mispronunciation) was intentional. You know, because Abner is a moran.
I got that..usually I don’t let grammar/spelling etc bug me. It’s probably because I’m not wearing green. God help the person that tries to pinch me, though.
I’m of pretty heavy Scottish descent. You can imagine how awesome I find Patty Day given the great history of cooperation my ancestors had with the Irish.
Though it does give me the opportunity to tweak the proud Irish, which is fun:
“Why aren’t you wearing green?”
“I’m of Scottish descent. My ancestors realized that you don’t need a fake holiday as an excuse to drink.”
L-Squared – wearing green? You’re a gecko! And your name is “Lime”!
“I’m of Irish descent. My ancestors realized you don’t need to wear a
skirtkilt to have a good time.”Just because the Irish don’t have the legs to pull off the kilt doesn’t mean they need to be envious of us Scots 😀
Actually, I’ve seen many Irish guys in kilts, and they do make them work. As for pulling it off … that takes hands, not legs. (Also, you don’t even have to do that if you’re in a hurry.)
What?
I see Lola has had a touch o’ the ol’ brogue.
Best.Line.
Also, lots of doors for particularly good deployment of “erstwhile.”
I just realized the last paragraph says “a small smell crept across his face.” Kind of funny in a related-yet-not-intentional sort of way, but obviously that should read “smile.” I Suck at Proofreading.
Ruger
By:STX
Ruger, when you’re with me I’m smiling
Give me all your lead
Your bullets pierce my Toyota till it’s sinking
Just shoot you and my troubles all fade
Ruger, from the moment I saw you
Holstered all alone
You gave all the bang that I needed
So loud, like a mine that has blown
You’re my Ruger of the mourning
Love shines in your steel
Sparkling, clear, and lovely
You’re my Ruger
Ruger, turns me on when I’m lonely
Show me all your harm
Evenings when I lay it down beside me
Just take it gently while I’m armed
You’re my Ruger of the mourning
Love shines in your steel
Sparkling, clear, and lovely
You’re my Ruger
Ruger of the mourning
Love shines in your steel
Sparkling, clear, and lovely
You’re my Ruger
Ah, that’s Line 2, the estate of the late William Ruger, Sr.; Line 3, ASCAP; Line 4 is RIIA; and line 5 is the Marketing department of Sturm, Ruger, & Co, LLC; and Vogon poetry on Line 7 . . . .
To tell you the truth, I’m more worried about whether or not that automatic transmission has been serviced according to OEM specifications. 184k miles is a lot for those things. And I hear the 11 .22 caliber bullet hole model had problems with overheating the transmission fluid due to a leak in one of the cooling lines that’s oh, a little smaller than a quarter inch.
The Mountain Corolla is one of the last species of climbing Toyota left in the world today, and they are becoming increasingly rare. Destruction of the parking lots that make up its native habitat combined with over hunting have pushed this species to the very brink of extinction.
Yet the few that do remain in the wild are surely among the most majestic creatures found in the mountainous parking lots of North America.
Here we see a Female stalking a herd of shopping carts. The shopping carts have more speed and agility than the Corolla, so she must creep close enough for an ambush. One of the older carts has strayed too far from the herd, once he’s within range of the Female it is over quickly. This days hunting has been a success, and this shopping cart will go a long way toward assuring the survival of the two cubs she has waiting back at her den.
Don’t you mean her two cabs? *badum ching!*
*Waves his wand*
You are now hearing the voice of David Attenborough narrating my post.
Dude, quit waving that thing around here. Someone may have once called it magic, but calling bologna steak* doesn’t make it so.
* Unless you’re from Newfoundland**.
** Newfie Steak = fried bologna.
Mountain Corollas in the Mist.
p.s. It’s always duck season when the bullets are flying!
I got shot the other day. But it’s okay, the bullets were only .22 caliber.
Did you live?
No he’s undead now, Re-Todded..
dur dur
He’s either a ghost, a robot, or a robot’s ghost.
Ghost of the Robot?
anyone?
I’m German, you’re Jewish, how can we ever make it through this?
Must not run that well, you were still able to hit it 11 times when it tried to run away.
I guess Sparky feels “Runs good” sounds better than “Limps adequately”.
I think he meant “Guns door” and mixed up a couple of letters.
It’s illegal to drive a car in Texas with a bullet hole in the windshield? Hell, I thought it was illegal to drive a car in Texas without one.
It’s also against the law not to have a set of longhorn horns on the front of your vehicle in Texas.
Only if you drive a cadillac.
We’re so rich, we have other people drive our bullet-riddled, longhorn-sportin’ cars for us.
To our 67,000sf mansions.
So we can go out back to our 800 acre “yard” and watch our rigs bring up more of that Texas Tea.
Later, the ladies go to the hair salon to get their updos….complete with aviation lights atop.
The men? Oh they round-up rattlesnakes and spend the evening making boots and belts.
Suddenly my desire to never live in Texas remains unchanged.
Mine too.
We should start a club about it.
I knew this group wasn’t all peaches and cream. I had a seasonal job in Texas in my baseball career, and while sometimes slow and otherwise quaint, the people in Texas are nice. If there’s one thing I can’t stand for, it’s intolerance for cultures and places. Besides, everyone knows this car was shot in Detroit, where I have a desire to never live.
I’m pretty sure it was shot in Philadelphia, where I did live once, and have no desire to ever do so again.
Corey needs a Matt tag.
Does Al Sharpton speak for the oppressed of Texas, or is there someone else that we’ll be hearing from?
Crap, line one is ringing. I’m not picking up…
Don’t cross the
streamsmemes!!!!!@ Bianchi:
… that’s what she said.
This car is not from Texas.
Japan possibly?
😀
Detroit?
I think there’s a law allowing you to shoot imports in Michigan.
Corrected post:
It’s illegal to drive a car in STX with a bullet hole in the windshield? Hell, I thought it was illegal to drive a car in STX without one.
*waves hand* Those are not the locations you are looking for.
I think the car he be from de islands, mon.
Uhm, actually not illegal to drive that way; but, the language for vehicle inspections does require a “complete and intact” windshield.
If one has one of the VW “dune” buggies, which do not normally mount a windscreen, one installs a 6×6 bit of automotive glass to the left front of the driver, there to have affixed the required vehicle inspection sticker, and the current registration sticker.
I think in Washington it’s illegal to NOT have wiperblades… but you don’t have to have a windshield. Wacky lawmakers.
Umm. No. I do believe it needs a new windshield NOW.
My mind is boggled. I can’t get past the concept of driving around for a year with a BULLET HOLE IN THE WINDSHIELD!!!
(Sorry for the yelling, I’m getting hungry. 7 more hours to go.)
Just put some duck tape on it and it’ll be as good as new.
Anyone who suggests Duck Tape will fix it is obviously a quack.
I prefer “mentally divergent”.
Watch out SJ. You might run a foul of the quack community.
Or GrahamT.
Sans bullet holes, this car isn’t worth 1200 let alone 3700… how do bullet holes drive up a car’s value?
Gives it street cred, bro..
Truth. 50cent was known as Quarter before he got shot all those times.
Tupac was known as Onepac!
Sir Mixalot was Sir Stiroccasionally.
Bobby Brown was Bobby Ecru
Dr. Dre was known as Dre, M.S.
The Spinners were the rotates?
Cypress Hill was Cypress Small Bump
Grandmaster Flash was Journeyman Flash
Ice-T was Ice-N
Kanye West was Kanye South-SouthEast
Mos Def was Kinda Sorta Def
I’m having too much fun with this.
Notorious B.I.G. was I Maybe Heard of That Guy B.I.G.
Lil Wayne was Tiny Wayne
Snoop Dogg was Snoop Puppyy
Jay Z was Jay Y
Dolla was Nicka
😀
Eminem was known as “Skittles”
“Men at Work” were known as “Guys on Break”.
Al Sharpton was Al Dullton
MC Hammer was LB Wooden Mallet
Vin Diesel was Vin Petroleum.
Vin Diesel used to be a dinosaur
The same way a nearly naked woman can drive up the price of a drink – it’s the excitement value!
I’d suggest that Sparky stop trying to sell this car as a car; he needs to call it art and jack up the price a couple million dollars. It’s making a statement about the dangers of depending on gasoline-powered vehicles. All he has to do is paint a single teardrop falling from one of the headlights.
I love postmodern art. Or is this post-postmodern? It’s hard to keep track these days.
Post-Postmodern is way too mainstream anymore.
I prefer Schroedinger art. The art is super underground and edgy, so much so that nobody has ever seen or heard about it. Problem is, once the artists are discovered they become immediately mainstream.
Do I classify Schroedinger art as post-post-postmodern, or is it pre-post-post-postmodern? I have a chart.
I think it’s both until you actually look at a piece of the art.
And when you look at it, it’s no longer Shroedinger art.
My chart is useless!
Where would artists from the Heisenberg school fall on the chart, or would attempting to place them alter their location?
I would think that, given all the bullet holes, this is actually postmortem art. *flees*
Good question, SJ. I’m just never sure about Heisenberg.
I tend to favor Planck art myself. Its quality way more constant.
Ha. Ha.
What is this? An online Prometheus meeting? Or maybe merely mensa. I was running real fast when I looked at the picture and the holes appeared closer together and the car had a folded over look to it. And it’s clock on the radio was a bit faster than mine.
No AC? What with all this global warming I keep hearing about, I’m not going to buy a car with no AC. So sorry, Sparky.
The AC is in the glovebox but you have to provide your own ammo.
I keep mine under the seat or by my waist.
Must use own garbage to fuel.
Ooooh, authentic battle damage!
Ooh….it’s more like this Toyota is from circa the Last Supper and Judas sat out on that 12th bullet.
p.s. that would make Jesus the shooter
“I know what you’re thinking, Judas. Did I heal 12 lepers, or only 11? Are you feeling holy, punk? Well, are you?”
Yup. That’s pretty much how it went down.
Funny! That is all.
Verbatim, except it was said in red.
aaaand that was supposed to be in reply to the post right above… *grumblegrumble*
There’s also a dead body in the trunk but it’s nearly done decomposing so it shouldn’t pose a problem.
Well durn. That means you can no longer use this car in the carpool lane.
Just do what everyone else does – fill a blow-up doll with spray foam and wedge it in the passenger seat.
*everyone* else? Are you sure you’re not generalizing?
I use my cardboard cutout of Beatrice Arthur.
I use my imaginary friend, but for some reason no one considers him a qualifying passenger.
Hmmm
.33? Ooh, I’ve never shot any .338; if Spark’ wants to subsidize some research . . . I’ve got .30 caliber covered, from .30 carbine to .30-06
.45? *Waves hand* My fave! Well, excepting .45gap, I’ve got this one covered from .45-40 to .45acp to .45LC and .45super and .45RM; cannot slight .45-70 either (would still like to try .450 wildey and the .45 beowulf).
125mm tank shells? Nobody let’s me play with Soviet tank rounds–those 50mm rod penetrators noodling along about 1 KPS would really air-condition a Toyota . . .
155mm howitzer? Now, you are talking! 155 is even more fun when you get to use a radio and do not have to be at the loud part at either end of the tragectory.
ACME brand 16-ton weight? Another one of those life-experiences I’ve been denied (without regard to manufacturer) <sigh>
What’s a Matt tag? I’m starting to feel self conscious. Can’t we all just get along?
[matt] = indication of misplaced righteous indignation
ETA: Ooops, Windrose answered below. Ah well.
Matt was a very special visitor who felt we were out of line in teasing about how an ad was spelled or something. The mind isn’t as sharp as it once was. Anyway, Matt Tags are for when you don’t think the comment is funny, and you explain why. With Righteous Indignation. 8) But we like you, Corey! Don’t go and just igore what you don’t like.
Ok. I figured when I qualified my displeasure of judgment on cities with my inflexible protocol of not living in a city because of it’s citihood, it was pretty clear that there was not indignation, but jest. Gotta be careful though. After all, you guys take your jokes seriously around here.
(In the spirit of tupac was onepac) “War was Peace? and why can’t we be friends Hammy?
It’s all in jest.
I have a philosophy that works well: ppppbbbbbttttt
sarajeanbethmelody, ann. barbara. Mr. Crowbar can’t help you now! Punchity Punch Punch!
G’Night, STX!
I think the fact that there are bullet holes in the car in the first place is a problem, seeing how I’d rather people not shoot at me for what car I’m driving.
Hey, NMN (mmm, chocolate), good to see you again! Why don’t you join us in the present?