Monday, May 26, 2008

Part 47- My 2008 Magnificent Colossal Indy 500 Photo Blog Thing: The Race Recap And Other Stuff...

Well now…another Indy 500 is in the record books.

I have been away from computers and stuff for a few days, roaming the streets near the Indianapolis Motor Speedway and taking in all the sights and sounds and smells and puddles of curdled hurl.

The Night-Before-The-Race activities on Georgetown Road are a sight to behold…many young and dumb and drunk people with no earthly idea about real and shiny and fast Indy car racing, looking to hook up. Maybe.

A little tip for those of you who attend such events….do not bring your hawt girlfriend to Night-Before-The-Race alcohol consumption contests, then get irate when she is asked to display her substantial breast assemblies.

I spent some quality time at the 2008 version of Camp ‘n’ Brew and met wonderful and real Indy racing fans who know what it all means…a first-class setup and top-notch people. I heartily endorse and recommend C&B.

Here are some C&B derelicts…

Race Day was cool and fun and exciting, and it was a chance to teach many valuable lessons to my oldest son, who is 14.

We saw an energetic fan consuming alarming amounts of beer using a system of plastic tubing and a large funnel. I explained to my boy that this was the most efficient way in which one could pour the largest amount of beer down one’s gullet in the shortest amount of time. I told my son that this was what was known as a beer bong. I also pointed out that this was also the quickest way in which one could induce projectile vomiting, and that I had never personally done a beer bong because I enjoy the taste of beer and I have always felt that I drank it fast enough directly from factory approved containers.

Yes. Indy can be an educational tool to enlighten our youth of today.

On race day we arrived early to our seats in J Stand, where all the coolest and real Indy race fans sit, because we have issues and we did not want to miss any of the opening ceremonies and drama.

However, I believe IMS needs to improve accommodations in J Stand. Even though I have a skinny arse, most Americans do not, and I find the seats in J Stand are much too close together. We were packed like a can of pickled fishes in J Stand, and it is extremely uncomfortable and difficult to get up and go pee, or something, without crushing your neighbors’ feet and munchie supplies. Plus, there is no place in J Stand to stash your regulation sized coolers, as there is no room under the narrow seats. This is all due to faulty design…probably by a malingering Purdue engineering student.

I am getting old and grumpy. Maybe.

We saw Slash and a Medal of Honor recipient. They were the coolest of all the celebrities. The rest of them I neither knew nor cared about, because I don’t watch much stupid TV.

Mrs. Brady and Gomer were in fine form and sang with much gusto.

Julie Huff sang the National Anthem in an irritating manner.

She tried to ghetto it up, or something, and made me snarl and wince.

National Anthem singers should just sing the song and not put a lot of personal touches to it. If I want to hear your personal touches, I’ll buy your highly over-rated, bad-pop-music-version-of-country-music CD.

Stick to dancing, Julie, but I won’t watch that either.

The Right Reverand ArchBishop of Canterbury O'Meara gave the prayer of the day. It was pretty cool until he had to bring in the politics of open wheel racing into the mix. More personal touches, I guess. Some people, even a man of the cloth, can’t help ad-libbing. We all gotta have our moment in the sun. Kinda.

The best part of the opening ceremonies, and one which wasn’t ruined by adding personal touches, was the playing of Taps by a lone bugler, Sgt. Byron Bartosh of the Indiana National Guard.

It is at this moment when one should shed a quiet tear and be thankful and a little sad all at the same time. I know I was.

Sgt. Bartosh knows how to play his bugle, knows what Indy and Memorial Day mean, and knows how to be prudent and proper and reverent.

I salute Sgt. Byron Bartosh!

Next, the balloons went up, and I thought I was going to see a heinous flying incident when an annoying and ever-present camera helicopter almost collided with the display of airborne latex, helium-filled celebratory devices.

Luckily, this did not occur.

The start of the race was relatively orderly, and the field of 33 fast and shiny Indy racers hurled through Turn One in a safe and cohesive fashion.

Brian Barhart would expect no less.

Later on, and throughout the race, I imagine Mr. Barnhart was disappointed with the performances of his charges, because they became somewhat careless or indifferent about their on-track actions.

Blinky Junquiera’s rear view mirror fell off early in the race, causing a yellow lamp to be illuminated. I don’t know what the deal is with mirrors falling off of race cars. We had the same problem last year. Maybe Blinky got John Andretti’s heap from 2007. Whatever the case, all real Indy 500 rear view mirror installers need a refresher course, or they need to be fired. I am sick of this crap! I suggested Elmer’s glue, toothpicks, and drywall screws last year. Apparently, my handyman advice was not heeded. Do I have to do everything?

Sara O’Gara spun out during this yellow period. She was going slow and weaving dangerously and irresponsibly and lost control and had to be towed in for consultation and remedial real Indy racing advisement. I’m not so sure she took this corrective action to heart. More on this situation later as the race developed…

Booby’s son, GrahamCracker Rahal, (GCR), made the next wrong mistake at Indy. Apparently, he no longer had any interest in real Indy 500 racing competition, so he violently slapped the 4th Turn wall right in front of me. I bet GCR has some kinda ingrained anger towards his dad, or something, so he thought he’d show Dad a thing or two and get back at him for all the discipline and stern tongue lashings received through the formative years. Maybe. If GCR can rid himself of his pent-up rage for his dad, I bet he will become a fine Indy racer. That’s what I think.

Next to raise some singed eyebrows was AJ the 4th. I think AJ the 4th might be a pyromaniac. He seems intent on setting his fast and shiny Indy racers ablaze and causing incalculable water and smoke damage. His car burned while being serviced in the pits, and AJ the 4th was treated to a water and foam shower for his efforts. If AJ the 4th wanted to take a luxurious bubble bath, he should have taken it before the race, not during. Maybe that’s why AJ the 4th was so slow and in everybody’s way during the race. Perhaps he was so relaxed and numb from his pseudo hot tub experience that he no longer cared about true and real Indy racing competition. Who’s to say for sure? Certainly not me.

Mad Dog Martin Roth made a spectacular exit to the Indy 500 by crunching the 4th Turn barrier in front of me as well. Maybe he had consumed all of his talent or desire for Indy 500 participation…I couldn’t say. Or, maybe he was tired of running in last place all day, and wanted to focus all of his team’s efforts on John Andretti. Yes. I bet that’s it! Martin was being a thoughtful and caring team owner. I’m sure John appreciates your loving kindness, Martin! It was a touching gesture on your part, and it made me openly weep, but I bet Helio “TwinkleToes” Castroneves would beg to differ, because he ran over a bunch of the bits and pieces of your shattered racer and had to pit to fix all the damage. I bet Helio wanted to throat-punch Martin! That would be something I would like to see, because it would be dramatic, and Indy is all about drama.

Soon, Jimmy Camaro exhausted his supplies of skill and concern about Indy 500 competition. When one decides to quit the Indy 500, one should do so in spectacular fashion. Jimmy knows this because he has read the memo in its entirety, and he follows directions. Jimmy hit the wall twice for good effect, and distributed countless shards and bits of his racer throughout Turns 1 and 2. Nobody likes a quitter, Jimmy, but all real Indy racing fans have duly noted your thoroughness, pickiness, and attention to detail. We will be watching you closely in the future, young man!

My pick to win the Indy 500, Tony Kanaan, performed as I expected. He charged to the front and was fast because he is skilled and daring and unafraid to sacrifice down force for speed. Unfortunately, Tony is not only talented, but he is also a nice guy, and nice guys rarely finish first at Indy, or anywhere else for that matter. Entering Turn 3, Tony was being a nice guy to his little buddy, Margo Andretti. Tony drove up high, a little too high, to let his little buddy Margo charge through the turn. Tony got into the marbles and, subsequently, into the wall. As Tony spun helplessly out of control in the short chute, he was viciously T-boned by Sara O’Gara, putting them both out of the race, proving my assertion that nice guys don’t finish at Indy.

Later, Tony blamed his little buddy Margo for being dumb and careless and reckless. I don’t really see it that way, but maybe Tony ain’t so nice after all. But, then again, Tony was shown after the race with his infant son, saying his son and family are really all that matter and that he wasn’t going to be mad and sad because he didn’t win the Indy 500. I am so confused. Maybe it’s that duality-of-life, Jungian-thing I can’t understand.

Lots of times, when things are slow at Indy, drivers will zig-zag to keep their tires clean and warm and happy. It is important for all real Indy racers to know the proper procedure for performing this delicate maneuver. One is supposed to zig, then zag. This action is executed by turning the steering wheel left, then right, or vice versa, depending on track conditions and room availability. I think some drivers need a remedial training course in the art and execution of the zig-zag, because I’ve seen drivers zig-zig, or zag-zag, in the past. This wrong mistake can cause a heinous racing incident, and I cite Jeff Simians as an example. He improperly executed the afore-mention maneuver, and hit the outside wall on the front straight during a yellow period. The resultant crash sent him careening across the track into the inside wall, ending his day. I bet Jeff is feeling sheepish and a little embarrassed right about now, and he probably doesn’t appreciate me pointing all this stuff out. I care about you, Jeff, and I want you to be aware of all racing intricacies which will help make you an Indy legend. I feel it is my duty. I hope you understand. Stop monkeying around and get with the program!

Justin Wilson departed this year’s Indy 500 by spinning and backing his rig into the fence between Turns 1 and 2. Maybe he was thinking about food and how great a ¼ Pounder with Cheese would taste. He probably forgot to eat a hearty breakfast race morning, and his rumbling tummy distracted him. I know how he feels. Sometimes I don’t want to take the time to eat because I have many important and earth-shattering things to do. Later, though, I regret not eating because I feel angry and weak from lack of food. Next year, I bet Justin will consume a big plate of biscuits ‘n’ gravy before the race from one of the many fine food vendors available at IMS. That’s what I would recommend.

Alex Lloyd helped to illustrate an important real Indy racing lesson to my son. I tell my boy to always be looking up the track, no matter where you are, in the event talent levels run low or somebody drives their rig in an irresponsible manner. I say this because one never knows when a race car, or parts of it, will come flying towards you, and one must know the appropriate time to duck and cover! Alex had an intimate encounter with the 4th Turn concrete, directly in front of us. The impact sent his racer spinning into the pits and into the pit lane wall, destroying expensive laser radar speed detecting instruments. Luckily, pit lane in that area was empty and there were no inattentive persons injured in this wild melee. My son is smart and is able to put 2 and 2 together, so, he nodded in total agreement with me and marveled at my age-induced wisdom. I am amazing, bordering on spectacular, and I am a good dad. Maybe.

Milk ‘n’ Donuts was in the way and slow all day and spun and hit Buddy Lazier. What a surprise! After a stellar qualifying run, I expected more from her. So did Hugo Chavez. I hope Hugo doesn’t send a hit squad out looking to get some payback. That would be unfortunate for real Indy racing enthusiasts the world over. Maybe.

The next heinous racing incident I will describe will be in all the papers and the intardnets for the next one thousand years! Late in the race, Danica Hospenthal was running in the Top Ten but complaining of a slow and excrement-like racing unit. She and most of the field pitted at the same time during a caution time-out. Her crack crew completed their duties in stellar fashion, and she was sent on her way. Just ahead of her, Ryan Briscoe was ordered to leave his pit stall by Roger Penske. Ryan hammered his throttle, fishtailed wide into the pit lane, and collided with Mrs. Hospenthal, causing irreparable damage to both cars!

Steaming with rage and fury, Mrs. Hospenthal exited her battered racer and stomped towards Briscoe’s pit. I bet she was looking to get her a piece of Briscoe or Roger Penske, and wanted to curb-stomp whoever was responsible for ruining her strong 7th place finish. That’s what I think.

Mrs. Hospenthal had to be physically restrained by a huge and burly undercover Indy Racing security dude, and was sent off in the other direction, running over innocent bystanders and photographers in a dreadful manner!

This author's sidebar commentary:


I like Danica, OK? But, she ain't beatin' NO man's ass. What's she weigh...98 pounds soakin' wet? Attitude is great...God knows I've made an intardnet career out of it, but attitude alone ain't gonna get the job done when you gotta throw down either...

She can scowl and hiss and act all pissy and like she's gonna whip the entire paddock all she wants. She's a poser as far as all that's concerned, and one of these days somebody is gonna pull her punk card and she'll start some shit she can't finish and she's gonna get some of her chicklets dashed down her throat.


Briscoe said it wasn’t his fault, and that he and Danica both have brakes which will work sufficiently in these types of situations. I don’t really see it that way. I think Briscoe has already established a pattern of dubious on-track behavior which will most likely get him fired from Teamster Penske. This latest incident only adds to that record. It wasn’t Mrs. Hospenthal’s fault, but I don’t take Roger Penske seriously when he says it was his fault because he told Briscoe to go. I mean, what’s Roger going to do? Fire himself? I doubt it. Briscoe will be the sacrificial lamb for this incident because he slid way wide into the pit lane.

Bye bye, Briscoe! I know a trucking company that might have an opening or two soon. I just hope that opening isn’t because I got fired too!

That’s what I think.

The balance of the race held no surprises, and Scott Dixon, in one of the red cars, won going away. Congratulations and well done Scott! You are now an Indy 500 Champion and real racing legend!

The Indianapolis 500 is cool and fun and exciting to watch. You should all try it sometime, and then maybe you’ll believe the stuff I’m saying here now.



  1. Great blog, thanks for sharing.

  2. Great Blog Sgt. J. Do you miss your Wire Dog Days?

    Cpl Johnson WD MUX God

  3. Thanks, Gyrene. Yes. I miss my Marine Corps days because I miss working and associating with people who are not pussies, who keep their word, and know the meaning of honor. There is a shortage of people today who know the meaning of honor. I fear for our country because we are becoming a nation of pussies and whining little girls.


    Semper Fidelis.


Feel free to comment away with your bad-ass selves.

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Just remember...this is MY house, and I will not be insulted or maliciously messed with here.

Good-natured ribbing is cool, but if you and I don't have some kind of previous relationship, you had best mind your fucking manners or I will relegate you to the intardnets dustbin for being a cunt.

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Or something.