Sunday, July 27, 2008


Never mind that that Bud sold out to a foreign corporation.

Never mind that a lot people think that drinking Bud is not drinking a real beer.

Never mind that I have always wanted a Corvette or a Porsche. Here's the real car of my dreams:


I want that car. I really want it.

The car comes with a trailer. The old farts in the Bud car do not come with it.

If I had the Bud car I'd be the toast of every red necked parade this side of the Mississippi. Throwing beer cans out of this puppy would be acceptable. Cops would see the empty cans of Bud flying out of the Bud car, smile and say, "There goes Bob in his mean, clean Budweiser racing machine!" and go about their business.

Running stoplights with the cameras that take your picture would also be no big deal. In the run the red light photo lab the guys would see Bob running the red light in his mean, clean, Budweiser racing machine and say, "Hey, lookee here! It's Bob again - - - running another damn red light. Ain't he something?!" And then they'd save the picture for their redneck scrapbook and not ticket Bob.

Ticketing Bob while he's driving the mean, clean Budweiser racing machine would be like sacrilege: It would be close to being a redneck sin.

Wanna ride in my mean, clean, Budweiser racing machine? We'll have lots of fun and get away with most anything.

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Whiskeytown Lake, Very Northern California, United States