Tag Archives: Cars

Why The French Make Good High-Rollers

You may look real classy

In your souped-up chassis

And yet prove to be asses

When you read “chassis” as chasses.

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Hey Girl! Check Out My MPGs

I’m the Rolls Royce of romance,

The Lamborghini of love,

The Audi of ardor

And the driver thereof.

I’m a Bentley of bravery.

You’re a Cadillac cutie.

Alas I’m the Smart Car

Of wealth, status, and beauty.

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Alas, Sales Would Fall Quickly In California

We as a species

Devote so much time

To inventing a car

That’s smarter than us;

A car that can fly,

Can swim or can jump,

Can brake automatically

And not cause a fuss.

I think we can dream

Even bigger than this,

That the auto market,

There is a way to win it,

And we must redouble

Our effort to invent

A car that implodes

When a moron gets in it.

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“I” Pronounced “E,” In This Case Before “Le”

I looked for better deals

For my monthly cell phone plan.

Some offers good, others not,

There was a terrific span.

But the ad from Virgin Mobile

Was the one that caught my eye.

It was a picture of my car;

“Read our name again and cry.”

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What Brings The Anarchist To Lakeside Honda Sales

Glass lake,

Calm… serene.

As still and blue

As has ever been.

Glass lake,

The world’s eighth wonder.

In the distance…

Is that thunder?

Thunder rolling

Ever nearer

As Glass lake

Gets ever clearer.

Thunder’s louder.

Thunder’s struck.

Turns out thunder

Is my truck.

Thunder truck

Plunges forth

From the woods

With a sound like “Vlorsh!”

Into Glass lake

Thunder zooms

The serenity is gone

Replaced by fumes.

The ripples spread

As Thunder does sink.

That wasn’t as fun

As I would I would think…

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Haikommercials

Winding mountain pass.

A deep voice talks about specs.

Gotta buy that Porsche.
There’s a friendly man

Succeeding at basic tasks.

Nope, just kidding. Lol!
That weird moment when

You’re watching some late night crap

And think “I need that.”

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Midlife Hammering

If I had a hammer

I’d hammer in the morning.

I’d hammer in the evening

All over this land.

I’d hammer for weeks

Until one week, without warning

I’d realize that my hammer

Was getting quite bland.
Then I’d sell my hammer

And buy a Mazerati.

I’d stay up in the evening

And buff it by hand.

I’d drive it to the movies

Until it got a door ding.

Then I’d sell it for a smart car

And maybe start a garage band.

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