September 19, 2006


Saw this sign as I drove home on Lumsden Road last night:


A little strange coming from an Irish pub, but sweet and thoughtful nonetheless.

I pulled into the parking lot to see if they had done any other memorials to the Crocodile Hunter on the building.

I didn't see any, but I did see this motorcycle parked out front:


Wait. What's that on the back?


As Steve Irwin would say, "CRIKEY!"

I guess on one hand you have to applaud the guy who owns this bike (no woman would own a death sled with bike nuts hanging off the back and an accompanying testicle-themed tag). I mean, at least he got a tea-bagging reference past the DMV puritans. Props to him for that.

But couldn't he have been a bit more bold? Didn't he have a BALZAC in him to offer in honor of the French novelist? Was there no imagination to lob a NUT BAG in homage to the Nick Palubo slasher pic?

If you're going to straddle a vibrating crotch rocket, you're gonna need to be a little more imaginative, pal.


Porn as a windowshade.

Jonathan Livingston Redneck.

Buc off, pal.

Such a dirty mess.

How cheep can you be?

I'm super! Thanks for asking.

Would you like an apple pie with that?

Hearse so good.

Drive fast, take chances.

Riding with Fab the deejay.

Beware of the Death Explorer.

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right.

My other car is a rocket-propelled grenade.

Live long and prosper. In an Altima.

Just two good ol' boys.

Asshats aplenty.

Nicotine is my crash helmet.

Jazz hands moms.

Ugly lug nuts.

Pretty ballsy.

My honor student can kick your ass.

Garfield mudflaps.

Horse and buddy.

Posted by Jeff at September 19, 2006 06:18 AM | TrackBack
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