Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Vintage Razor Blades Perfect For Slicing A Fool Long, Deep, And Forever

Looky here what I found!

Most of you fine folks know by now that I have plunged into a bathroom remodeling project from Hades.

The work continues at a slow, maddening pace.

Whilst tearing out a wall which formerly held a medicine cabinet, I found eleventy billion ancient razor blades because back in the day they were uncaring about shit and racist and didn't give a flying fuck about storing used, HIV-positive-carrying and hepatitus-C-infested shaving aparati in a wall which would make Al Gore weep tidal waves of salty tears.

Ah...the good old days.

With gloved hands, I carefully removed and binned the blades which ended up in a landfill somewhere.

Ha!  Choke on it, Al Gore.  I get the last laugh. related news, while looking through one of my inherited late father's magic nuts and bolts boxes, I recently stumbled across some vintage, still-in-the-wrapper razor blades...and seeing as I have multiple personality and mental disorders and I like old shit, I thought I'd scan them and see how they looked.

Kinda cool, I think.

Or not.

Glad I never had to shave with this shit.

The gore would be exquisite.

I said gore...

I kill me.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

My 2013 Indy 500 Jamboree And Hootenanny: I'm Not Always An Asshole, But...

This Indy racing sled will be piloted by Townsend Bell for 2013's version of the Indy 500 Sweepstakes.

It is wrenched by the crack mechanics at Panther Racing.

It is the best looking car out there right now.

This fact cannot be disputed. 

However, there is something about this rig that concerns me deeply and is a grave injustice.

If you look closely, you will see that there are several promotional mentions of a current work of cinema entitled "Turbo" plastered all over this otherwise proper and prudently-skinned race car.

I had to do a little research about the movie because I had no idea what "Turbo" was all about seeing as movies suck now and Hollywood mostly puts out commie dreck which is expressly designed to destroy our nation.

This movie is no exception, apparently.

My findings indicate that this flick is pretty much a computer-generated cartoon about an ambitious talking garden slug who gets in way over his head one night during a bender, experiments with and over-doses on mind-altering drugs (NOS), and then thinks he can somehow come strolling into the Indianapolis Motor Speedway to win the Indy 500 as if he were Juan Montoya or Jacques Villeneuve.

Now...back in the day I had a couple of buddies who huffed on whipped-cream cans to try to get high or something.

Astonishingly, I never tried it.

I thought it was stupid then, and I think it's stupid now...and I don't think this is the kind of message that needs to be conveyed to the youth of our nation:

"Get blitzed on nitrous oxide and you can do anything and your dreams will come true." 

IndyCar should be ashamed and should reconsider.

"Turbo" is bad cinema.

Get the salt. 

Fuck that slug.  

My 2013 Indy 500 Jamboree And Hootenanny: I'm Not Always An Asshole...

...but when I am, I'm REALLY an asshole!

I kill me.

I await my drone strike.

My 2013 Indy 500 Jamboree And Hootenanny: I'm Not Always An Asshole

Just some of the time...


It's raining here in Indy, so going out to the track would be pointless and I have shit to do here at home, but I thought I'd take a minute and do a little writing.

Anyhoo...I present to you, my valued readers, the following as to why I think my assholishness is only a part-time gig.

You no doubt recall that I am in the midst of remodeling my bathroom.

In doing so, I have eliminated the window, framed it in and boxed it off outside with a nice cedar trim...which I then stained to make it look even more cooler.

(I said "trim") lol

It is over-engineerd and bullet-proof.

You couldn't drive a tank through this motherfucker now.

I'm pretty proud of my handiwork.  It is solid and square and true and plumb.

I am awesome.

This next picture I took just now during a light rain.

It popped up this morning in my neglected garden and it is gloriously beautiful and is proof that God loves us and that He would prefer that we didn't kill each other like the assholes we usually are and that we should respect and protect and defend the rights He gave us at birth.

This image is massive and cool.  If you want, you can click on it and save it for a wallpaper or something.  Pretty much.

I have two poppy plants in my garden that come back every year and start to bloom in May right about the time the Indy 500 and Memorial Day comes around and then I get all foolish and sentimental and stuff.

So you see...I'm not always an asshole.

But my next post?

Who's to say?

Certainly not me.

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

My 2013 Indy 500 Jamboree And Hootenanny: Evidence Of Love And Youthful Shenanigans At The Brickyard

This is what I had for lunch today trackside.  

I haven't consumed one in over two years.   

It is a Hoosier legend.


It is a breaded, tenderized, deep-fried pig rectum.

It was scrumptious.

Mayor Bloomberg weeps reservoirs of tears and is considering unconstitutional legislation to protect me from my erroneous and horrific eating habits.

Fuck you, Mikey.

This is France's Sebastien Bourdai engaging in dangerous horseplay at the Speedway.

His vehicle, which is chromed out like a '68 Cadillac Eldorado pimp-mobile, was designed for only one rider...not two.

Apparently, Seabass has forgotten who he works for.  

His boss is Jay Penske, whose dad is Roger Penske, a guy who tolerates no nonsense and is owner/operator of Teamster Penske.

Yes.  This relationship is close and tidy and convenient and reeks of nepotism. 

Regardless, it would behoove Seabass to adhere to all rules and regulations or he might wake up with a case of wobbly knee.


Here is Dario Franchitti's sled being operated in an imprudent manner.

Note how the malingering crew dude is slothfully hanging off the side pod without a safety harness while he steers this racing unit through the paddock.

He could easily lose control and cause untold carnage and property damage and be forced by Chip Ganassi to fill out multiple incident reports and make Dario fume with rage.

Thing is...Dario doesn't need this shit right about now.

See...Dario kicked his famous actress wife, Ashley Judd, to the curb and I bet he's stressing something awful.

She didn't wanna "breed" but he wanted to have kids with her because he is a hawt sexy macho virile European/Scottish/Italian dude with raging testosterone levels and he has needs.

Meanwhile, Ashley is kinda weird and flaky but sorta fun to be around in small doses and was giving some thought to running for political office in her home state of Kentucky instead of breeding with Dario and she figured being a mom would be a hassle when being governor would be more cooler.

Then, Ashley got clued in to the fact that the citizens of the Commonwealth of Kentucky are pretty smart people and that they have a lot of common sense and that there was no way in hell she would be voted in as governor unless Obama-like electoral tomfoolery took place.

Unfortunately for Ashley, by that time it was too fucking late and Dario had had quite enough of her bullshit and had already shit-canned her crazy ass.

On top of all this crap, Dario has the added stress of possibly being the next 4-time Indy 500 winner, while at the same time many mooks on the intardnets are saying that damn near all of his previous Indy wins were tarnished in one way or another because of rain or tornadoes or yellow flags being illuminated right at the very end of the races.

Now...I don't believe any of Dario's Indy wins were tarnished, but I do believe that if this shit keeps up, Dario's is gonna need a sedative or some other kinda pharmaceutical to keep the anxiety down or to keep him from snapping like a dry twig.

He could maybe ask AJ Humdinger what he recommends. 

Then again, maybe not.

Never mind.

Here is Scott Dixon's rig with another Target/Ganassi employee acting a fool with the equipment.

I don't have anything smart to say about Dixon...yet...but, it seems to me that maybe Chip needs a new safety director, because the guy they got in that position now ain't worth a fuck and is asleep at the switch.

I know one thing for sure.

If I'm stumbling through the garage area and one of Ganassi's boys engages in dangerous horseplay and hits me in the process, that motherfucker better hope he kills me because if he doesn't I'm gonna beat his ass.

That's what I think.

Here is something I saw today in the paddock which I had never seen before.

It is exciting and amazing and a sign of the times.

It is a hawt chick working on a fast and shiny Indy racing machine.

Ain't nuthing sexier...

Now...some of you might be saying, "Zoomie!  Women can do anything a man can do.  You always sexualize women.  You are a pig.  Please hurry up and die already!"

I would reply to you that you don't know me and to shut your man-pleaser and bring me a sammich.


What I would really say is that...yes...I appreciate pretty women...pretty women who are smart and confident and have a sense of humor and can work on an Indy car.

I find all those traits to be extremely sexy in a woman.

Sue me.

This next thing I saw today is evidence of love.

It is an old vintage Honda motorcycle that at one time was probably a piece of shit that somebody found in a barn or roadside ditch and then gave it a lot of love.

Whoever did the work on this bike paid attention to detail and didn't over-do things and made it look clean and under-statedly elegant.

I would give the guy (or gal) who did this bike a big hug and maybe cry with joy a little bit.

Would that make me gay?

This is a 1958 International Harvester Metro delivery van.

Back in olden times dumb-asses like me who dropped out of college because they drank too much beer and smoked too much weed had to drive one of these to make a buck instead of living large and raiding everyone else's IRAs and 401Ks.

It looks like it just rolled off the assembly line.

Somebody loved it long time, but now it is for sale.

Everything has its price, I suppose.

That is a bad reflection on somebody.


Tuesday, May 14, 2013

My 2013 Indy 500 Jamboree And Hootenanny: Back To The Track, Jack! I decided I needed a break from my hellish home remodeling, and I finally got my narrow ass back to the race track.


It felt good.

Really good.

Met up with a couple of my old racin' buddies and had a few cold pops in the glorious Hoosier sunshine at one of my most favoritest places ever.

We talked smack and subversion and aura and looked at hawt chicks and laughed until I damn near puked.

I saw Grover, and I think for a second he considered robbing me of my beer, but then he recognized how haggard and embittered I looked and he probably decided he would have none of it and wisely chose not to mess with me and get gutted like a carp.

I walked through the paddock and took a few photos and got a closer look at the new car design.

It is growing on me.  I'm not sold completely on their looks, but the racing has been pretty good this year so far.

They might wanna consider redesigning the nose though.

That shit might fly on a road course, but it ain't gonna work at Indy.  Better get a Purdue engineer on it ASAP.


I was very surprised how quiet these rigs are at full song compared to the cars of two years ago.  Two fewer cylinders and turbocharging and mufflers will do that to racing engine, I suppose.

Tried my hand at a video with my new IPhone...and wasn't very impressed.

To be fair to Apple, I probably fucked something up or the settings are wrong.

Who's to say?

Certainly not me.
This is something I saw today that makes Al Gore weep rivers of reptilian tears.

This is Ed Carpantier's personal urban assault vehicle.

I bet Ed got a really good deal on it as surplus from Federal Government goons or a formerly overly-militarized major metropolitan police department that realized it could not afford to fuel it at the alarming rate at which it consumes dinosaur bones.

I'm gonna hang out with Ed when the shit hits the fan because he has this for his bug-out vehicle.

I bet Ed would really dig hanging out with me when shit gets froggy because I'm kinda fun to be around in small doses and I can still shoot the asshole out of a flea at a hundred yards and we are both family men and when you really stop and think about it Ed and I are a lot alike in many ways.


Ed and I will be apocalyptic chums.

That's what I think.

Most of you know I like old shit.

Old shit is cool.

This is an old piece of shit I saw in the garage area. 

This old piece of shit is a vintage Schwinn bicycle that has lovingly been given a new lease on life with some new components.

I know it is a real vintage piece of shit because of the front fork.

See...back in the day, Schwinns were built in Chicago...before Chicago turned into a Commie wasteland...and Schwinn used thin, solid-as-fuck American steel forks for most of their bikes.

These vintage American-made bikes had no suspension and nothing to soften the ride and it was so rough-riding that it would make one's spine shoot out one's asshole.  But that's the kinda thing that made America great and tough.


Nowadays, Schwinns are most likely made in the motherland of all Commie wastelands...China...and they use tubular forks or forks that have pneumatic or fluid or some other kind of shock absorber that pussifies our youth and makes them dependent on government for their every need.

Commie bicycles were the ruination of America.

Pretty much.  


Sunday, May 12, 2013

My 2013 Indy 500 Jamboree And Hootenanny: Where The Fuck You At Zoomie?

Seems as if both of my fans are wondering why I ain't at the race track like I said I would a while back.

It's because I am a big liar.


Thanks for askin', fellahs.

But when I should have been watching this...

IMS photo

 I was doing this...

Kinda sucks, don't it?

Yeah...the project is comin' along, but it takes longer than usual because it is our one and only crapper and it has to be semi-functional throughout the process and I have to try to keep the mess and disruptions to a minimum and with five people and a cat living in my shack it can get to be ponderous and tempers fray and there could be big trouble in little China here before too long if I don't wrap this up.

So you see I can't be a recalcitrant malingerer or anything...

Damned cat...

Hells bells.

Today is Mothers Day, and I'm even blowing Mom off in order to make some headway here! 


I am a bad son.

Love you, Mom! 

I heard Joe Newhausen went out yesterday and turned a 245mph lap right outta the box. 

This according to one member of my crack team of reporters on site...

I bet Arie Luyendyk was pissed his track record was smashed to smithereens like it was easy and cool.

That's what I think.

I called bullshit almost immediately when I heard the news of a 245mph lap and accused my reporter dude of being drunk and almost certainly gay...not that there's anything wrong with either of those personal attributes.

But apparently it was Ed Carpantier who went out and blistered the racing surfaces with the day's top speed of about 220mph.

Nice job, Ed.

I've said it before.

Ed has the potential to win this thing someday soon.


Seeing as I have earned a break, I most likely will put my tool belt down Monday and get my narrow, emaciated ass out to my beloved Indianapolis Motor Speedway to watch fast and shiny racing units orbit the world's greatest racing facility. 

Yes. That sounds like a plan.

It could happen, but it might not.

Who's to say?

Certainly not me, because I am a big liar.

...and a tool.   

Saturday, May 11, 2013

My 2013 Indy 500 Jamboree And Hootenanny: I Will Be Fashionably Late To The Dance

I know.

I suck.

I won't be attending Opening Day festivities at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway today because I currently have a project from hell going on at my house.

See...what started as a simple weekend leaking tub drain fix has ended up being a multi-week complete bathroom gutting and remodeling.

The cast iron waste line leading from the tub was corroded and broken, and to fix that meant removing the tub...which meant removing the walls...which lead to the decision to go on ahead and redo the entire (and only) bathroom in my humble abode (shack). 

Did I mention that my crib is on a slab and damn near everything is buried in concrete?


I should live in a trailer.

Sunday will be a no-go trackside as well.

I may be able to get out there next week for some practice days.

The project is coming along thanks to the generous help of a heart-of-gold neighbor.

We will be ripping out the sink, installing new copper water lines, and hanging drywall today.

In other news, I was contacted last night by a well-connected real Indy racin' insider who told me I would be furnished with a Bronzed Badge at no charge to me.

Thanks, real Indy racin' insider.

This is cool, and your gesture is much appreciated.

Free shit is always cool.

That's what I think.

See you trackside.