OK, I have "issues". I admit it.
It doesn't take a lot to launch me into orbit.
Two, fully loaded 18 wheelers sitting side by side at the stoplight, taking up both lanes. When the light turns green, it will take each of them approximately 4 hours just to clear the fucking intersection. Get in single file, in the right lane fucktards! Leave at least one lane open for just regular cars.
People talking on cell phones! Or putting on makeup! Or reading the fucking paper! PAY ATTENTION!
Old men driving on old man time. They are retired. Doesn't matter when they get to the barber shop or the tractor auction. Doesn't matter how many people just trying to get to work are piled up behind their slow moving asses.
So, as I say, I got me some issues.
Which is why I need this car.
I think my protestations regarding the inadequecies of my fellow drivers would carry a lot more weight if I were driving Satan's car.
But the car pictured was built on top of a 1968 Volkswagon Beetle.
No. Sorry. You cannot build the Lucifermobile on the top of Herbie, The Love Bug.
I want the same, basic, demonic design draped over the chassis of a Ford F-350 or a Hummer.
With the following modifications.
I want a Boeing 747 landing light mounted on the back of the vehicle hooked to a capacitor powered by the drive-shaft. It will build up a huge charge until I unleash it's full, laser-like fury on a tailgater, sizzling their retinas and creating a pleasant and calming sizzling bacon aroma.
I want a couple of .50 caliber machine guns mounted in the hood and calibrated to one and a half car lengths.
I want a computer system that can read a person's license plate, find out who it belongs to, and look up their cell phone number for me. So I can call them.
Oh shit. I forgot to take my blood pressure medicine today.
I should go do that now.
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