A Humble Proposition
So, driving home from the gym after a fruitful evening of choking 17 year olds and Polish immigrants, I passed by a gas station on my way onto the Parkway. Upon seeing that the listed price for regular was 1.99 USD per gallon, my immediate reaction was "Finally! Gas is below two dollars again; I can fill up with a twenty and not have to fumble
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Yeah, so, yes, so that was it. There was a spirit of ex-empire, this thing of “things can't be done," whereas in America, I thought there was a spirit of "can be done!" The pioneer thing.
"Go do it, what do you want to do?"
“I want to put babies on spikes."
"Go then! Go!”
It's the American Dream! "Hi! I'm Crazy Eddie! I put babies on spikes. Do you want a rack of babies? We've got babies on racks! Mmm, they taste of chicken!" They do! Babies taste of chicken! Cannibals say that human flesh tastes of chicken, so babies must taste of chicken. And chicken tastes of humans. ( nervous laughter from audience ) Good, I'm glad you're coming with me on that.
The Amaya Tank of Doom ran on real leaded fuel... at one point Mason, fiend and I had track on where all the garages that sold it rather than lead replacement fuel which tended to make the car sound less like purring and more like it was coughing up a furball. Still this was due to the fact that it was several tonne of 1970s French doom which eats lead for breakfast and pisses on the Japanese hatchbacks everyone else drives in the Antipodes.
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All the same person, really.
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