Saturday, November 19, 2011

dErp



derp:


A simple, undefined reply when an ignorant comment or action is made. Brought to life in the South Park series, when Mr. Derp made a guest apperance at South Park Elementary as the chef for a day, followed by hitting himself in the head with a hammer and exclaiming "Derp!"

After almost five long ghastly years, this site is under re-construction

Please excuse the mess.

While trying to freshen up the look of things around here, I fucked up royal.

Yes.

I am a big dumbass.

All the crap will remain while I work to fix things, but it will look like shit and probably be hard to read.

Fret not.  I'll have it all back more better and brighter than ever.

It will be swell.

Maybe. 

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Benched


You all know by now how I’m pretty much an old school kind of guy.

If it’s dusty, rusty, and in need of some tender loving care…I like it.

Cars, trucks, firearms, bikes (motorized or not), houses, buildings, bridges.

Today I will specifically discuss older vehicles, because something happened recently which brought the thought to mind.

I’ll get to THAT eventually.

Maybe.

Back in the day, it was relatively rare for a vehicle to have bucket seats unless you are talking about a Corvette or some kind of queer Eurofag car.

It was all bench seating, all the time.   

I don’t think I ever owned a vehicle with bucket or split front seats until several years into my marriage, (and by then it didn’t matter anymore!)

All modern vehicles have split front seating now.

Shit…even heavy duty dump trucks and semi tractors are outfitted with lavish interiors that would make a 1960s homeowner jealous. 

I believe there are a number of reasons for this. 

I will enumerate those reasons for you now:

A-   The typical American ass is enormous and requires king-sized LazyBoy type furniture to accommodate it.
B-   The typical person now carries along so much shit with them to make it through the day that massive center consoles the size of home entertainment centers are required to store all the crap.
3-   Daughters.

I have vague foggy fond memories of going on car dates back in the day. 

If my date slid over next to me immediately after getting in the car, I knew the girl was cool and wanted to be with me.  (I can recall a time or two when I actually wondered why the girl agreed to go out with me because of the way she behaved once we were on the date.  I appreciate a little enthusiasm.)

Sliding over is not possible with bucket seats, or with huge refrigerators and workstations in the way.

It’s a damn shame.

Sorta.

Or not.

Flash forward to current times...

My daughter has a new boyfriend.

He is a fine young man

He seems pleasant and polite enough.


I think he is relatively clear about things.

He picks my daughter up for a date yesterday.

He comes to the door properly.

They go to his vehicle…a beat up 90’s model Chevy short bed pickup (I approve) with a bench seat. 

He does not open the door for her.  (I do not approve)

He gets in.  She gets it.

They pull away from the curb in front of the house, and before they clear the next-door neighbor’s property line, I see my daughter quickly slide over.

It was cute...

Fuck.

I should probably recommend a nice new modern Japanese coupe to the young man.

Mom and Dad always said I’d “get mine” some day when I had children.

I think I’ll go clean a rifle.

It's good for the soul.