Ho Ho Hummer
Ok, you're rich. I get it.
Hummers are the stupidest vehicles on the road. Here's why.
1) They cost more per square inch than the house I grew up in. For those who haven't seen it, 5540 Rick Drive is a nice 3 Bedroom 2 Bath house in a golf course community in the Tampa suburbs. My family wasn't rich and there were plenty of nicer houses in the neighborhood, but I could beat up all the kids who lived in those houses, so who cares?
For some reason, the tools who run the Hummer company think their vehicles are more valuable than that house. While my childhood home isn't drivable, I've never felt up a girl at a New Year's Eve party in a Hummer and even if I did that now, my parents wouldn't be in the next room. Since they're divorced and dually remarried, that would be just plain weird.
2) The Hummer is based -- Extremely loosely, mind you -- on the military vehicle bearing the same name. Here's the thing- our trucks are actually called High-Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle, or HMMWV for short. Since nobody not named William Wallace likes the letter W, we kicked its ass and made it leave. That left us with HMMV, or "Hum-V." This worked for us for years until someone got the great idea to rename the Humvee to remind us of the only thing Marines like more than riding in trucks and blowing stuff up- fellatio.
So alas the Hummer was born. Only problem is, they are big fat pieces of crap. Seriously. Ya wanna know the difference between a military hummer and a bag of crap? The bag.
(Previous joke courtesy of my good friend E.S. His blog totally owns this sorry thing. Check it out)
Now lawyers, athletes and other overpaid blowholes with deep inferiority issues drive around in "nice" versions of our rumbling crapmobiles. That's like if someone took a kevlar helmet, painted it all fancylike and wore it out in public as a sign of how cool and rich they are. It would sound like this:
Smart guy wearing adjustable Braves ballcap: Dude, what the hell are you wearing?
Rich idiot: Oh my god. You so totally did not just ask me that. This is a Kelvin hat. It cost me $485 and I'm much cooler than you because I have one. If I wear it a lot no one will realize that I have a perishable skill that completely determines my self-worth and once it's gone I'll end up changing tires in Aitken, S.C. until my heart explodes from all the drugs I take to maintain this lifestyle. You are so missing it by not having one of these.
Smart guy wearing adjustable Braves ballcap: Sure, man. This hat costed me $12.50 and while people don't stare at me because I wear it gawking at how rich I am, check this out- THAT'S THE FREAKIN POINT, YOU HALFWIT.
Try this- take the money you would have spent on that overpriced rolling lunchbox and spend it on, let's see ... anything else. You'll still be overpaid and just as "cool," but when you get disbarred for being the shady buffoon you are, you can have a bit left over to buy food until you score that job managing the Starbucks at the mall.
Even the Hummer website is full of crap. It says their "6.5L Turbo Diesel V8 with 440 ft Pounds of torque at 1800 rpm" is built with one thing in mind: Functionality.
Ok, I'm listening. Please explain how a Monsoon Premium Audio System with 6 disc in-dash cd player is essential to function. I'll take this one- because the function you're trying to achieve is looking like a poser.
By the way, the cost of the Hummer 1: $112,000
Cost of the house on Rick Drive: $ 100,000ish.
One final note: It's Mardi Gras time in NoLa. No, I will not be showing my boobs for beads, nor will I be encouraging Wifey to do so. There's way too much mystery shrouded behind where beads come from. My last boss/ good friend J.N. gave me a set of rockin' Bucs beads, but when I asked what his woman had to do to get them, he turned 10 shades of red and threatened to take them from me if I ever asked again. As such, when I go to my first-ever Mardi Gras parade tomorrow, the only beads I'll come home with will be ones that get thrown and smack me dead on the forehead.
Or the ones that are cool enough to make me pry them out of the terrified grasps of screaming schoolaged children.