Although it’s missing a community pool and spa with a game room, this looks pretty nice for my future retirement home. Except for inclement weather, you’ll likely find me sunning on the back porch, with a laptop and a cooler, waving to passersby, before the local constabulary asks me to move.
[Found in here.]
Earl Scheib‘s got nothing on this guy.
Mr. Redshoes, you need more homework assignments so you can graduate and get a decent job to pay Earl for a strip and paint special. Otherwise you’ll prolly have to pay someone to buy your four-wheeled artwork.
We also suggest you start saving for tatt removal laser work on that inkbooger you smeared on your forearm. Pure efficient genius.
[Image found here. Don’t miss our World Famous Collection of Babe Magnets.]
“He’s got a ’30 Ford Wagon and he’s got nothing to brag about;
Panama City, here we come.” Meanwhile his future wife takes an elbow to the head.
[Found at My Parents Were Awesome.]
Very little needs to be said about this brickbat mobile that isn’t intuitively obvious to the casual observer, except that the roof screams for asphalt shingles and vinyl gutters. Aluminum sliding windows would have been a nice touch. No need for a carwash either, as a vinegar solution with a wire brush should keep the efflorescence in check for months. Pure efficient genius. We’ll even give him credit and kudos for the keystones.
Although he’ll never get a girlfriend built like a brick youknowwhat, at least Mr. Mason knows how to perpendicular park.
[Found here.]
Wow. Somebody put a lot of thought and effort into magnetizing this 2006 Chevy Impotent while at the same time cleverly advertising his lack of graphic talent. So let’s break it down.
The windshield motto indicates that the owner of this beauty, Tyrone, has a prison record and we taxpayers certainly paid for his incarceration “All Day.”
It’s also intuitively obvious to the casual observer that he reads Playboy for the advertisements. The symbolism behind four pairs of red dice and the dollar signs suggests that Tyrone fancies himself a gambler, and he patronizes crimson casinos exclusively.
The front bumper indicates that at least two or more people hate him, and they’re all ex-girlfriends that he borrowed money from to recoup his lost wagers/wages. I’ll bet it had something to do with his jail time.
The dashboard is carefully upholstered with a tailored moving blanket, and we can safely assume that the rest of the interior is similarly furnished. Pure efficient genius.
Then there’s the “Jesus” plate that makes it all seem better. Whatta ride.
[Larger image can be found here.]
WHOA! 23¢ a gallon! And what a GREAT slogan.
Let’s talk about gas prices vs. inflation.
Inflation calculator: 1926-2009 = 1,108.2%
Price per Gallon in 1926 (regular, leaded): $0.23/gal
Federal Gasoline Tax (up to 1933): $0.01/gal = 4.55%
Actual cost per gallon (1926 dollars): $0.22/gal
Actual cost per gallon, less taxes (2009 dollars): $2.66/gal
Price per Gallon (regular unleaded) 10 July 2009: $2.90/gal
Federal Gasoline Tax 2009: $0.184/gal
California (Local + State + Fed Taxes) 6 July 2009:
$0.645/gal* = 2.9%
* Includes CA Sales Tax (7.25%) CA County & Local Sales Tax (1.25%), and UST tax (1.2%) whateverTF that is.
Actual cost per gallon, less taxes (July 2009): $2.26/gal**
**Note that the base price stated for California gasoline includes costs for state mandated fuel additives, summer/winter mixes, ethanol. Note also that this amount includes franchise fees, business license fees, miniscule profit by the small business folks, and Swantzenegger Boxer Feinswein Pelosi & Waxman fees, other “revenue enhancement fees” emanating from Sacramento, and costs for gettin’ the lead out.
[Sources found here and here.]
Now Let’s talk about mileage and cost and technology.
When planning to turn a lame ride into something truly sucky, there are only four words to remember: Corrugated Cardboard ‘N’ Duct Tape. (The “N” word doesn’t count.)
So how do we analyze this pathetic attempt at true Babe Magnetage? Hard to say. But there are three likely scenarios.
1. The owner of this Ford POS has absolutely no budget, but works in a parts warehouse with lots of, um, materials at hand. He’s your run-of-the-mill petty thief, specializing in recyclables, and dreams about the world of industrial design while wishing he worked in a fiberglass plant;
2. The owner of the Ford POS got peer-punked by co-dorks who had some off-time when the local Arby’s closed, and decided to give him a high school graduation present consisting of one last mockery;
3. The owner of the Ford POS is a boob who ran out of spray paint to finish it off before attempting to sell the Ford POS on Ebay as an Eddie Bauer Edition.
We predict the project will be abandoned while still in its infancy.
The cardboard spoiler and skirts will be torn off leaving big ol’ honkin’ duct tape marks where the paint used to be, and the owner of the Ford POS will decide to up the ante for True Babe Magnet Status (think flat black spraypaint finish with green and orange fluorescent spackle flames) before he dumps it off on his gullible younger brother for an amount that will take him years to pay off.
Pure efficient genius.
[Image found here. Excellent collection of more Babe Magnetage here.]
P.S. I keep forgetting to use the forbidden word “retarded.”
What to do when your Babe Magnet bites the dust? Rent it out! Face it, there’s value in everything, and in this case, the upholstery still works.
Tattoo Mullet Ricky (as he’s known to locals) has made several economical improvements to his efficiency unit, adding solar screening to reduce the heat gain, and a semi-recessed composter for waste recycling.
His night job breaking down pallets for firewood gave him the idea to upgrade his living space. Now he can get a decent day’s sleep without being shooed from bus benches and dumpster enclosures. At night, he rents out the room to those less fortunate than he in exchange for something that kinda makes our skin crawl just to think about it.
Tacky Raccoons 