NASCAR, Indy, and Respect

The NECKCAR turds came-a-calling to my beloved Indianapolis Motor Speedway recently.

Them good ol' boys like to play that they have a deep respect for the Citadel Of Speed.

They wax poetically about their reverence for its history and tradition.

But what they say...and what they actually do...are two completely different things.

It's kinda like this:

Imagine YOUR teen daughter is dating a guy, and while the two of them are sitting in YOUR home...on YOUR couch...in YOUR living room...he tells you how much he respects and admires YOUR daughter...all the while having his hand up her skirt.

Knuckle deep.

Jimmy Johnson needs to reconsider parking his sled crossways on MY racetrack with his nose up against MY wall and then doing a disgusting and defiling and desecrating burnout on MY sacred bricks. 

Hey Jimmy.

Your hero and four-time Indy 500 winner Rick Mears never did any shit like you pulled Sunday.

He had too much class.

Fuck Jimmy Johnson.

Fuck Hendrick Motorsports.

Fuck NECKCAR. 

Some of you might be saying, "But...but...but...Zoomie!  You are being a classless boob yourself by using coarse language and cussing out the premier NECKCAR team in a public forum.  You are a hypocrite!"

Yeah...maybe.

Whatever.

But this is MY house, and I can say whatever the fuck I want here.

You don't like it, you can get the fuck out. 

NECKCAR can do the same fucking thing. 

Stay off MY bricks.

Assholes.

My Nephew

Just got word my nephew, who is an Army medic in AssCrackistan and got hit by IEDs twice and shot at (and survived intact) on the same day just prior to Independence Day, lost six of his unit killed in another IED attack a couple of days ago.
 

I spoke to his parents at my July 4th party.  

I was semi-sober and angry.

What else is new...right?

Anyhoo...this is what I told my nephew's folks:

Any (honorable) way you can, convince him to get his narrow ass home ASAP.  

He and his buddies are getting fucked up and killed for nothing but bankers, Wall Street, and the free flow of opiates and oil and arms.  

He's not protecting me or defending the United States.  

It's all bullshit, just as my service in GW1 was.  

My eyes are open now, and I have learned a lot these last ten years or so.  

He should be home, married to some sweet young thing, making babies, and working a good job.

Get him out of that fucking Army!

The young lad's folks seemed to pretty much agree with me.

They said they think the luster of the Army has worn off for the young man.

It was ironic that the last time I spoke to him was at Easter (...or was it Thanksgiving?), and he was all fired up and gung-ho about going over-seas.

I was horrified.

(I mentioned this to my wife, and she said, "You were the same way for Desert Storm."  I said, "I know, but I was a young dip-shit at the time!")

I told him to be careful about what he wished for, take care of himself and his troops, don't volunteer for shit anymore, and get himself home ASAP.

Yes.

I am the angry, cynical, hypocritical uncle.

He's a bright kid and extremely motivated, and has very much impressed me these last few years after graduating high school and since enlisting.

He has a promising future ahead of him.

I just hope to God he survives this fucked up bullshit to enjoy it.

Please...if any of y'all are the prayin' type, please send a few my nephew's way.

Thanks.

Godspeed, nephew.

You are in my thoughts daily.

And Now...A Word From Our President On This Independence Day Holiday...(and some other stuff)

BTW...the stick-figure man above is the extent of my free-hand artistic abilities.

Most of what you fine folks see here is shit I've stolen and adapted and manipulated for my own use.

I am so ashamed...

 

I present the following with apologies to DC Comics, Sergeant Rock, and Russ Heath...

Right click, open it in a new tab, and expand it to get the image in all its intended glory.

Doing all that shit kinda blows...I know.

A good concept poorly executed...

I suck.