Indy Car 2012 Season Begins

Spring has sprung.

Bees are chirping.

Birds are buzzing.

A young man’s thoughts turn to silky toned tanned female flesh.

An old bastard like me starts thinking about open wheeled Indy Car excitement.

Some of you might be thinking, “Zoomie!  What the fuck is this shit?  Post a dark and depressing picture about mass graves or a story about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, or guns…or something.”

My reply would be, “Fuck you, Sparky!  Long before I got maniacal and blogged about politics and hate, I blogged about auto racing…and hate.  So eat me!”

The season has begun with the running of the Grand Prix of St. Petersburg down in Florida somewhere, and Teamster Penske yes-man and all-around fake motherfucker Helio Castroneves was victorious.

He climbed fences and patted a Dan Wheldon sign and feigned grief and remorse about last year’s tragic loss of the two-time Indy 500 champion.

I ain’t buying it.

Helio is a great driver and has made the Indy 500 his bitch, but Helio is also a high-ranking Teamster Penske employee.

Helio is like a shorter and more foreign cloned version of Roger Penske himself.

Everybody knows Penske executives are not human, have no feelings, and are basically sociopaths, so don’t give me a buncha emotional bullshit Teamster Penske sobbing about the passing of Dan Wheldon.

I guarantee Helio and every other shit-head Teamster Penske executive (and most of the IndyCar paddock) is ultimately thinking, “Better him than me.  That’s one less decent driver I have to worry about as competition. Thank fucking God that wasn’t me with a fence post through my cranium, but to show you what a great guy I am, I’ll bite my lip and hold and shake my helmeted head after I win a race this year.”

Sorta.

It is great drama, and God knows Indy Car racing is all about drama. 

I expect this Wheldon Mania to last all season.  I just hope they don’t over do it this May at my racetrack here in Indianapolis.

Somebody’ll get hurt if it happens.

Bad.

In other IndyCar news, the new cars have finally been run in righteous indignant anger.

When the new car design first came out, we were told it would put the driver back into the equation.

The driver would actually have to drive the car…finesse that motherfucker…and weed out the wanna-be's and Dr. Jack "Kevorkian" Millers of the series.

Not as much down force meant actually lifting in the corners on a high-speed oval…

Recent testing indicates they have the balance and setups to where the new car is similar to the old car now as far as handling and down force.

So…which is it?

Is it a driver’s car, or is it full-tilt boogie all around Indy without lifting in the corners?

I guess we shall see…

Fucking hell these new rigs are ugly, and everybody thought the old ones were bad.

But...I guess it coulda been much worse.  We coulda got this hideous piece of shit...

The new sleds look like the bumper cars at Great Times Family Fun Center...totally computer generated and ergonomic…designed with your safety in mind.

A rear bumper…on an IndyCar?

Negro please.

Dan Gurney vomits.

Look, assholes.  Open wheel auto racing is dangerous as fuck, and everybody involved with it knows it.

It is razor’s edge “Holy-Fuck-I’m-Gonna-Die” dangerous…and the drivers have ‘nads the size of the Hoover Dam…and that’s why we love it.

Fucking admit it…

Way back a long time ago a famous author who later suck-started a Mossberg said something about bull fighting, auto racing, and mountain climbing being the only real manly sports.

Word up…

Hypocrites.

So…how’s about we design an Indy car that is esthetically pleasing to the eye and creates sexual excitement and not worry about lawyers and idiot-proofing this shit?

Mmmkay?  Thanks.

Indy cars have three different engines this year…Chevrolet, Lotus, and Honda…and they are using turbo-chargers for the first time in decades.

This is good.

I approve of diversity…and turbo-charging.

All internal combustion engines should have turbo-chargers…even my Craftsman lawn mower.

That’s what I think.

Racing engines, however, should not have mufflers.

Racing engines should be violently and obnoxiously loud and should make one wince and snarl and smile all at the same time.

So far as I could discern from the TV broadcast, the racing engines in the new Indy Car are not loud enough to suit me.

But, then again, who could tell with the ridiculous non-stop banter from announcers Marty Reid and Scott Goodyear?

Somebody needs to tell these two jerk-offs to shut the fuck up every now and then so that we...the valued viewing public…can hear the sweet sweet sounds of a screeching racing engine.

There have been a couple of notable changes in the Indy Car paddock this year.

Danica Patrick-Hospenthal and her man Paul hit the road for NASCAR, but we are still treated to her and her sultry lesbian friend’s Go-Daddy ads…where we get to watch the two of them apply body paint to a third quivering, oiled-down, gutter-slut and prance around a sound stage half naked while retarded men fall all over themselves in fake sexual distraction.

Give it a rest, whores.

You ain’t all that…and you never were.

Goodbye.

Another notable change to the Indy Car paddock is Rubens Barrichello.

If you recall, Rubens was in Formula One as Michael Schumacher’s lick-spittle at Ferrari…dominating for many years where they cheated and pulled over for one another and “by-your-leaved” each other so they could win many races.

I saw this shit happen…in person with my own two eyes…on my racetrack at the United States Grand Prix at Indy one year.

I was disgusted then, and I am still disgusting.

I will never forget it, and I will never forgive Rubens for taking part in such a fiasco.

Funny thing is…both Rubens Barrichello and Michael Schumacher are now washed-up has beens as evidenced by the fact that Michael doesn’t drive for Ferrari anymore, and Rubens is slummin’ it in Indy Car.

Serves them right, the big cheating dopes.

Anyhoo…that’s about all I have for now regarding the 2012 Indy Car season.

I look forward to the oval tracks and Indianapolis where the new rig will really get to show what it’s made of.

See you at Indy.

Maybe. 

Son-of-a-bitch...

Psyche!

I bet y'all thought I was gonna post another hateful rant about wanting to filet the flesh off a fool's arm or something.

Nope.

Not today...

This popped up in my front yard.

Ain't it purty-full?

  
Robbins have been seen in the area.

The maple trees are full of buds.

Spring has sprung in the Hoosier state!

I hoisted the Gadsden and Navy Jack flags.

My wife calls them my "angry" flags.

Yep.

Talked to a couple of my men-folk neighbors and discussed a little sedition.

Found out the new guy across the street is a gun-nutter.

Building tribe.

Cool.

It's gonna be a great summer.

Sorry.  Sometimes I can't help myself.
I carried this weathered pig-sticker in Gulf War 1.
I used it to open care packages of Oreos and Marlboros.
I am hard like that.
Wolverines!

 

A T-Shirt I'd Like To See

Actually, I AM going to see it because I just made one for me at my custom Zoomie Shirt Shack on the intardwebs and I should be wearing it on my trembling and emaciated body within a week.

It will be a one-of-a-kind shirt from my private collection unavailable anywhere at any price because of two reasons:

A-  I can't sell it to the public due to the fact that Mickey Mouse is on there without permission, and I don't need Walt Disney's zombie corpse to beat me to death in a dark alley somewhere and devour what's left of my brain.

2- I kinda stole the remainder of the design from another guy who really shouldn't be toyed with because he has vast and terrifying knife-fighting skills that he learned in a Magna Carta dobro.

And if there's one thing I've learned in nearly fifty years, it's that you don't fuck with a dude armed with the blueprint for Western civilization, a knife, and a guitar...unless you smile and giggle a lot as you do it.

Some of you might be saying, "Zoomie!  It is offensive to the general public to be wearing clothes depicting a boorish cartoon rodent flipping the world the bird.  You are a crass Yankee asshole with no manners.  If you wore that shirt south of the Mason-Dixon Line, you would be shot numerous times and clandestinely fed to the hogs."

My reply?

Lookie here, Rhett.  I'm not gonna wear this stupid thing to church services, my kids' school functions, or the Ladies Auxiliary formal tea.

Give me a little credit...

I'll save it for special occasions...you know...like the shooting range, Occupy Wall Street gatherings, or court appearances.

Wolverines!

### 

Well...looks like the crew at my custom Zoomie Shirt Shack on the intardwebs has gone all Commie on me.

I got an email from them last night saying my design "conflicts with one or more of our acceptable content guidelines," and that they would not ship my T-shirt.

It's probably some kinda copyright thing with Mickey Mouse or something, but I don't recall Disney having a shit-fit when the design was used during the Iran hostage crisis back in the 70s.

Or maybe flipping the bird is considered obscene?

Or maybe the "III/Resist" is copy-written? 

Fuck if I know.

They didn't clarify.

I think I'll try my other design and see if they let it slide through.

If not, fuck them and their shirts too.

###

Ok...

Fuck these assholes at Zazzle.

They refused my second design.

I sent them the following e-mail, and I will now stomp my feet and walk away from them like a petulant child who didn't get his way.

Zazzle:

Here's an idea...

How about being more specific when you refuse a design? 

Don't tell me you don't have time. 

You are taking the time to look at a design and research and nit-pick every little detail.

Therefore, you have time to type a few words pointing out the offending detail.

I can go through your site and find all kinds of items that are offensive to me or are obviously "borrowed."

I am of the opinion that my conservative and belligerent designs are ruffling a few feathers out there in Kalifornia and are getting yanked for reasons other than "copyright" infringement, "an individual’s rights of celebrity/publicity," or "obscenity."

I am done with you.

Sincerely,

Paul Johnson

Anybody know of a place on the intardnets that will print my cartoonish and crappy shit without asking a lot of stupid fucking questions?

Peyton Manning Says 'Adios' To Indy

The only sports I follow to any extent are open-wheel auto racing and the National Football League. 

I enjoy the NFL for its exquisite violence because I am sick like that, but not once have I paid hard-earned money to see an NFL game in person.

I simply never gave a fuck enough.

I enjoyed watching Peyton Manning play football and win a Superbowl for the Indianapolis Colts.

But...it is all a mindless, meaningless distraction...something to watch for a few hours on a Sunday to escape from life for a while.

I appreciate Manning's impact on the city of Indianapolis.

For all I know, he is a decent man.

Peyton Manning...a multi-millionaire who will make millions more while the country circles the drain...announced in a tear-filled news conference that he will play the game in another city.

Flags are being lowered to half-mast all over the state of Indiana.

The Colts fan-boys (and girls) are slashing their collective wrists.

Whatever, man.

I still simply really don't give a fuck enough.

I have better things to worry about.

Down the road, Jack.

Don't let the door hit you...

I Am Mirroring And Deporting

After much hemming and hawing and gnashing of teeth, I have decided to create a mirrored blogging site type thang over at WerdPressed.

See…Blogger, a wholly owned and evil subsidiary of Google, has gone all Commie on us and has decided it would be cool to spy on us and send all of our personal info to probable undercover government goons like Mike Vandenburg or Slammin’ Sammy “The Knife” Kerosene.

Fuck all that noise.

If I were to see either of those two thugs on my front porch, they would be met with a fusillade of withering, armor-piercing aught-six fire…that is…if I hadn’t lost my M1 Garand in that well-publicized avocado farming accident.

As it stands, I will have to fend them off by throwing shoes at them and squealing like a schoolgirl.

That’ll learn ‘em.

Another reason for going to WerdPressed is that I wanted to preserve my literary and comedic brilliance at another place in case Google/Blogger went tits up when O’Bummer engages the innerweb kill switch.

Losing all that shit forever would make me cry.

Anyhoo…so far…I don’t care much for the user-friendliness and customization available at WerdPressed.

Apparently, I can get all kinds of neat-o shit for my blog at WerdPressed…if I pay them for it.

Fuck all that noise.

I ain’t paying diddly for my God-given American right to spread hate and subversion and cartoonish and shitty graphics on the intardwebs.

So…therefore…my Werdpressed version of this silliness will not be the jumbled mess of mental confusion you see here at Blogger/Google.

No.

It will be streamlined and bleak and clean looking over there.

Maybe.

I think for now what I’ll do is just post first here at Blogger/Google, and then deport my genius over to WerdPressed later.

I would recommend that both of my fans always stop here first, because you never know how long it will be until I get to do the deportation thang.

Besides all that, the Werdpressed thing is gonna be the same tired old shit you see here, so there’s really no reason to go there until Blogger/Google takes the dirt nap.

But then again, Werdpressed may be the place to go for those of you who are a bit paranoid about tracking and spying and such.

Be my guest and go to whichever you want.

Having choices is good.

It’s a free country.

For now.

Sorta.   

 

Oh Hell Yes! Great Cinema!

I have said it many times.

Life is too short for bad cinema.

Here is a motion picture destined to be a film for the ages and make your heart soar on the silvery wings of eagles!

A Good Cop And A Great American

What with all the horror stories of cops going rogue, I thought I'd present to you, my gentle readers, the other side of the story.

God knows I am neither a holster-sniffer nor a badge-polisher, but I have a serious man-crush on this dude.

His name is Bradley D. Rogers, and he is Sheriff of Elkhart County, Indiana.

To refresh your memory, he's the cop who told the Feds to go fuck themselves when they decided they were going to, without a warrant, search the property and/or arrest an Elkhart County Indiana Amish dairy farmer for the heinous act of transporting and selling raw dairy products.

He is very active on FaceBook.

You should friend him and check out the shenanigans he's up to.

He is a Constitutionally grounded Christian man.  

He is the definition of  "peace officer" and patriot.

...and he takes no shit.

It's a damn shame I get all excited about a cop such as Rogers.

All cops should be like him.