Sunday, February 13, 2011

The Devil Inside

Do you ever feel like God is punishing Detroit? That nothing can be simply enjoyed? That every silver lining was manufactured by anti-union Ohio State dropouts in Akron?

The Sweatpant King passes along this depressing story about our prophesied savior (therefore the Sky itself will give you a sign: the woman will know not gasoline but will give birth to a car, and she will call him Volt. And the Sky will look down on the Volt and say: this is the chosen one, with him I am well-pleased.)

The story is almost poetic in its cruelty. 1. The Volt has to maintain a certain minimum temperature while it's charging. 2. This winter has been brutal. 3. To stave off (totally justified) certain death, rats climb into the relatively warm underbelly of the Volt. 4. Rats are disgusting. 5. I'm no scientist and I'm too lazy to read, but I think humans hating rats is pure biological instinct, an evolutionary response to the plague. 6. I don't know enough about evolution to know if you can develop an evolutionary response in a few centuries. 7. Now that I type that, I remember that people in China and some places in Africa eat rats, so my two lonely fragments of half-digested information are in conflict. 8. Mich, how'd you know about the international rat consumption if you're too lazy to read? Facebook picture albums. 9. As you might have assumed, it's not good to have rats living in your car: certain mechanical problems can occur. 10. I'm hibernating until July.

In conclusion: just when you thought winter couldn't get any worse and that rats couldn't get any worse, they form like Voltron to multiply their soul-killing power into a destructive force the world could not possibly have imagined. And the Packers are the Super Bowl champions. And tomorrow is Monday.

(Wait, must draw strength from the Chrysler ad. Must remember. Must give thanks. Rats are stupid, we can solve this. Winter will be over in six months, we can survive this. This is the motor city, this is what we do.)

Praise God for Detroit and the Dirtbombs. I'll go hard this week.

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