August 07, 2006

Car Collectin' Crazies: Volume 1

It gets harder and harder each day to spot a Chunky Beef. Perhaps that's a good thing and people are starting to actually think of their health. Unfortunately, it makes for long periods of no posts.

My apologies for that.

But lo-and-behold just as I thought the world was getting to be a bit saner... I stumbled onto something I hadn't seen in a good six years:

Puh...puh...puhlease mistah... can't I have just one...)

Yeah... that's right. Car Collectors.

The bane of my existence. Well, them along with...

  • Wallabies

  • Britney Spears

  • Tim Eyman

  • Tom Cruise


  • Snakes on a plane (because I wanted to cash in on that internet phenomenon as well

  • Queen Chunky Beef that lives downstairs in my house's basement

So I've decided to let that guy above kick-start this fun new segment: Car Collectin' Crazies.

Let's take a look at the specimen above. You can't see him from the front... that's because it's dangerous to stare at a car collector in the face. If you do, you run the risk of catching their vile disease and you too may start living at home with your parents at the tender age of 42.

You may also start to smell, reeking of desperation and Doritos (specifically the Nacho Cheese Doritos). Or corn-nuts. Or feces.

Probably feces actually, as these unholy monstrocities have never known the love of a bar of soap.

What makes them so unholy? Simple. Do you see that little kid there? Well, that little kid probably wants nothing more than to pick up the latest cool Hot Wheels car... something shiny and in black probably. But what does this Car Collectin' Crazy want? Why he wants to hoard them all to himself like a real life Kingpin... selling them on eBay or Craigslist or wherever else he can pawn off his ill-gotten cars.

The one you see before you is actually one of the "Blenders" as I like to call them, because they ALMOST look human. Almost being the key word. If you look close enough, you begin to see the three day old pizza stains and couch fibers embedded on their skin from where they sleep on their parents couch for thirteen hours at a time.

You remember all those nightmares your parents would tell you at night that would happen to you if you were a bad boy or girl.

Well they exist.

And they shop in the Hot Wheels toy car aisle at your local department or toy store.

Bring the pitch forks.