Welp, if this is our last night on Earth

No better way than ending it on a high note, slaughtering the crap out of a bunch of attempted pub-stompers, with the girl that started it all, my one first true LoL love, Miss Fortune.

Not that I believe for a second that it’s the end of the world, but if it were, I can’t say that I really have many substantial regrets.  Maybe that I didn’t accomplish my goal of visiting every single Major League Baseball ballpark, or visiting Astoria, Oregon, and when I didn’t have the sense to ask out the hot girl with the blue hair at Dragon*Con that one year.

Otherwise, I think I’ve lived my life pretty full and decently.

The importance of rear spoilers

When I was sitting at a red light this morning, I saw this car pull into the left turn lane.  “Nice blue color there, I didn’t know the Hyundai Accent came in that color,” I thought.  And then my eyes noticed that it wasn’t wearing a Hyundai badge, but a Subaru badge.  My eyebrows furrowed upon noticing this, and then I was thinking “what the hell car is this?”  Upon scanning the rest of the vehicle, I saw the badge that I didn’t think was possible to be on such an unimpressive, mundane looking vehicle: WRX.

I’m aware that I’ve been talking about cars a lot lately, or at least making car-related analogies, but that’s how the brog works, I write about the things that trigger the impulse to write, and seeing this piece of shit this morning made me feel like writing about how pathetic and sad the Subaru Impreza WRX has become.

Not too long ago, I pointed out that the regular Subaru Impreza was one of the more recent cars to have joined the unfortunate “I give up on life” club of once-proud, stylish, discreetly-well-performed vehicles.  But that was the regular Subaru Impreza, the one with the standard engine that was meant to ultimately become a rental car, or the car that the teenage kid inherits while dad goes out and gets a Camaro.  The WRX, however, was still cool; the car with rally-inspired lineage, the turbo-charged pocket rocket that could compete with Evos and Audi Quattros in terms of speed, acceleration and handling.

But this WRX, this Hyundai Accent lookalike WRX, no bueno.  So mundane, so boring, and so looking like a rental car.

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Ryback = Goldberg Type-R

I don’t hide the fact that I have no love for the wrestler Ryback, because quite frankly I am incapable of seeing him as nothing but a bastardized mish-mash of several other wrestlers from the past.  The obvious parallel is the fact that he’s a Goldberg rip, due to the fact that he’s white, bald, jacked up and does nothing but high-impact power moves while displaying very little actual wrestling talent.

He’s also part Rhyno, due to the ring attire that almost looks as if Ryback went to a Rhyno garage sale, bought all of his old ring gear and just had all instances of “Rhyno” airbrushed out and replaced to say “Ryback.”  And like Rhyno, Ryback uses nothing but brute strength and power moves.

But last night, Ryback copied else that I felt was inappropriate, and in my distorted reality, crossing the line.  I’m not sure what prompted Ryback to even get on the microphone in the first place, as he has the speaking eloquence of Corky from Life Goes On, but he decided to try and blurble out some words to the sheep that somehow cheer his every action.  But then he said the words “Enough is enough, and it’s time for a change.”  That’s what agitated me, and prompted me to write out my displeasure at this no-talent oaf chewing up television time.

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Man, What A Stupid Commercial #004

The first thought that crossed through my head after I saw this commercial was: “Divorce papers. With a red ribbon around them.”

Not only is this commercial indeed stupid, I actually hate it.  Man goes through hoops to discreetly purchase a Smart car for his wife for Christmas, only for her to become instantaneously and ungratefully smitten with a piece of shit Buick cruising down the street.

In short, man gives gift, wife is ungrateful bitch.

Although the message is very much fictitious, and I honestly will foolishly give benefit of the doubt that there really are that many people who would be so ungratefully crass to rebuff an expensive and clearly high-effort gift literally three seconds after receiving it, I just really, really hate the message in general.

Like if I ever give my future ex-wife a car, only for her immediately ignore it to drool over a piece of shit Buick casing our neighborhood, I would without hesitation whip out the divorce papers.  Seriously.  I have two cousins that work in law, I could very well have divorce papers ready at the drop of a dime, or even go so far as to have them drawn up way in advance in preparation for such ingrate behavior that I deem unacceptable.  No bitch will ever disrespect the effort I put forth to please them and expect me to overlook it.  At least I hope.

I’m not kidding.  If my future ex-wife did this to me, she would become the present ex-wife a whole lot sooner rather than later.  It would likely be for the best too.  I’d be like a baseball player with an opt-out clause in my contract, and I could get back onto the free agent market while I’m younger than originally expected to have arrived on the market.  And then I could hook up with a superior future ex-wife that would hopefully at least be grateful if I ever bought them a car.

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Golf drivers kind of ruin Golfs

I like the Volkswagen Golf.  I’ve liked just about every iteration of it, even when it was called the VW Rabbit.  Ultimately, it was the reason why I ended up liking hatchbacks in the first place, and it’s that bias that led me to driving the 5-door hatchback I have now.  I would most definitely would own or would have had a Golf at some point by now, except for the fact that its price point has always eluded me by putting itself into a range that I just simply couldn’t justify for a means to an end like a car.

But it doesn’t mean that I can’t still be an admirer of the car still.  I like its fairly modest appearance, while having a good deal of performance as well as the practicality of spaciousness and storage that most hatchbacks afford.  During the riceboy days, most VW Golfs could compete or best most of their Japanese competition out of the box, provided the levels of trim were appropriately compared.  And the aftermarket part culture was just as favorable and customizable to Golfs as they were anything made by Honda or Nissan.

When I was shopping for a new car in 2011, I put the Golf high atop my list, but had to take it off based on my financial situation at the time, because they were far too expensive and I was far too poor, and after my experience with the lemon, I vowed not another used car.

However I recently got to thinking about all the people I’ve met in my life that have happened to be Golf owners, especially since I’ve moved to Atlanta.

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