I was sitting in my car today, daydreaming while waiting for a traffic light to finish having its senior moment. My unconscious mind ran through a few alternative possibilities of what it thought it was seeing before planting a square kick in my conscious mind’s gonads with a, “Hey! Dude! Look at that!” I did, and still couldn’t believe I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. But sure enough, there was no doubt: the truck in front of me had a humongous set of balls hanging off of its trailer hitch.
Thinking I might still have been imagining it, I turned to the authoritative source when I got home. Google confirmed my suspicions. Yup, you too can have your very own set of plastic low hangers to mount on your automobile. For a mere $26.95. You have to wonder what combination of drugs were responsible for that idea. And then wonder how the inventor is spending his millions. Something tells me it has to do with rebel flags and a lifetime supply of Cheetos. Even more so, you have to wonder who and what demographic they are marketing to.
Every lesbian I’ve ever known owned a truck. I know the dyke set like strap-ons, but can’t see them strapping on a set of nut sacks to their truck. Unless it was a trophy set they’d claimed on their own. Gay guys are enamored with peni and their buddies, but we also have a sense of taste which would preclude such a display. That leaves the straight boys. Why breeders would want a set of cojones hanging from their car I can’t imagine.
I also can’t imagine what the old women factory workers in China think of the product they are making. But based on size alone, they undoubtedly shake their heads and think, “Americans . . . now I understand.”
Americans have a long standing love affair with their cars. In Southern California, you are what you drive. Personalizing your vehicle has always been a fad. Years ago those tacky little yellow caution ‘Baby on Board’ signs were all the rage. I always appreciated mommy and daddy identifying the cars I needed to aim at. And loved seeing them zip past me at 125 miles an hour. Darwinism at its finest.
Bumper stickers started the tradition off. I’m pretty sure it is still illegal to own a Volvo without at least one liberal bumper sticker affixed, ‘Visualize World Peas’ being a favorite demonstrating both one’s wit and far left leanings. Is this just an American phenomenon? I don’t recall ever seeing bumper stickers in other countries.
During presidential election years affixing your preferred candidate’s name to your car has always been popular. Months after the election many cars are still sporting the loser’s name, just in case anyone missed how wrong you were. But I noticed after Bush Jr.’s election having any other candidate’s name still displayed on your rear bumper seemed a badge of honor, a proud statement: I didn’t vote for him.
I notice a lot of the religious right display propaganda on their cars. Some cover their entire car with biblical quotes, most only display a small symbol, a cross or a fish on the bumper. When I see that kind of display I often test their devotion by cutting them off. Just for the reaction. And yup, I usually get a finger instead of the other cheek. I’m not sure if anyone’s god approves of treating your faith as you would your favorite football team. Somehow the idea of a Go Jesus! bumper sticker just doesn’t seem right.
On the opposite side, atheists love to display symbols of little fish with legs, letting you know they believe in evolution while passing on an ‘up yours’ to the more religious minded. Since god’s existence is a matter of faith, none of us really knows. Even if you are sure she does not, there’s still room for doubt. And do you really want to stand before the gods on judgment day and hear, “Now about that bumper sticker . . .”
Within the last few years I’ve noticed a new trend. Marketing to the truly stupid, little white silhouette people made of vinyl are available so you can line your rear window with characters representing your family and dog. The truly dense add names below each character. Thank you. It is so much easier to lure a child into your car when you know the kid’s name. And if I’m looking for a house to break into, knowing you only have a poodle protecting your home makes my job that much easier. I’m thinking of introducing a similar line offering cut out characters for big screen TVs, home theater systems, the latest iPad version, and gold and diamond jewelry. Thieves are stupid, it’d be nice to help them out by displaying a shopping list on your vehicle.
And speaking of nuts, and straight America’s fascination with them, the annual Testicle Festival will be held in Rock Creek, Montana – where men are men and real men like licking balls – on August 3rd through the 7th. Lovingly referred to as Testy Fest, this five day celebration of balls, booze, naked bodies, and bull-testicle-eating contests draws over 20,000 party goers to the small cattle town every year.
The festival first rolled into town in 1982 when ranchers would gather to brand and castrate their cattle. Locals turned it into a party and today more than 2,800 pounds of bull balls are marinated, grilled, or deep-fried and washed down with lots and lots of beer. Attendees are not really a wine drinking crowd, which is a good thing because I do not believe any oenophiles have yet weighed in on whether red or white wine goes best with bull bullocks.
Last year, people from every state, six provinces, and 10 countries showed up to eat fried balls and party under the festival’s official slogan, “No assholes allowed”. And I just figured out who they are marketing those bumper nuts to.