Rangelife

License Plates of the Damned, Part 10

This car was sitting in the Safeway parking lot tonight. Next time I walked by, a BMW had beaten it up and stolen its gas money.

German cars can be so cruel.

Florida, Pride of the Nation, Part 70; License Plates of the Damned, Part 10

How do you sneak filth past the license plate Nazis?

By being brilliant.

License Plates of the Damned, Part 9

On a Mini Cooper painted like the Union Jack:

Entire Vehicles of the Damned

 
Say hello to my neighbor. Seems like a nice dad. Rocks an unironic mustache. Smokes around his kids.

He's got two trucks. A camper. A boat. In other words, a lot of vehicles for a San Francisco street. And all have Van Halen stickers. He's obviously transplanted from a suburb that got stuck in a cross-dimensional time portal around 1985.

Recently, he added the above monstrosity to the vehicular collection. I hope to holy hell that it's for his job, and not just a requirement of belonging to the Savage Nation

License Plates of the Damned, Part 8

I have a strange pity for Harvard alumni. I mean, they do get to control the world and everything. But on the other hand, for them talking about college in anything but the most general terms sounds condescending and assholish.

Actual conversation I had with a co-worker back when I was 23:

Me: "What do you think about that guy John?"

Him: "God! Thank you for bring him up. What a prick."

Me: "Really? Why do you think he's a prick?"

Him: "Ucccccch. It's always 'Harvard this' and 'Harvard that' and 'when I was at Harvard.' OK, we get it! You went to Harvard. And yet you have the same job we do!"

Me: "Dude, I haven't spent a day with you that wasn't 'SUNY Albany this' and 'here's another awesome story about SUNY Albany.'"

Him: "Yeah, well, at least I'm not rubbing SUNY in your face."

So is this guy rubbing HAHVAHD in our faces?

License Plates of the Damned, Part 7

I love it when a motorist flies their freak flag on government property:

Earlier: Teabagger.

Other Stuff of the Damned

These two items aren't license plates, but they are decidedly "of the damned."

The above bumper sticker was spotted in Provo, Utah.

Kidding! It was the Castro.

And in case "eating God" jokes are a little too much for you, you can instead limit your munching to the living symbol of the Christ Jesus:

Mmm, this embodiment of the Resurrection of our Lord is so chocolatey and gooey. He is risen!

License Plates of the Damned, Part 6

And by "damned," I mean "damned to a lifetime of moving violations."

God, I hope this guy has diplomatic immunity or something.

Scratch that. I hope he goes to prison before he kills somebody I like.

Spotted on 19th Avenue @ Irving.

Florida, Pride of the Nation, Part 57

To you, 57 may mean Heinz steak sauce. Or perhaps the movie where tax cheatin' Wesley Snipes urges, "Always bet on black." Or Dwight muthafuggin' Stephenson.

But 57 is also the edition of FPOTN where I bring back some simple relics from South Florida.

Broward County welcomes Duff Man. Or maybe Kool-Aid Man. I'm not sure; the windows were tinted pretty dark.

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Low weakly rates for your most manly or womanly of purposes.

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Baby Gap may distribute this piece nationally, but Miami parents seem most likely to dress their two-year-olds in shirts that say, "I'm bangin' your toddler at nanny-share."

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Jew Quest. The hottest game in Boca Raton.

Correction: My friend Jay says this game is really Ed Jew Quest. It's kind of fun at first, but then it drags on way longer than you want it to.

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One last one from Matty Matt: The world's most useless wheelchair ramp.

License Plates of the Damned, Part 4

There's an urban legend about an elderly Arizonan named Annie, whose job it is to protect the nation from nasty vanity plates. She's skilled in sussing out Bumper Stumper-style messages, and her command of offensive words transcends nation and culture.

Annie, obviously, is dead.

Yes, FAGELAH. Spotted at the intersection of Arlington and Wilder, SF.

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Why Mike Ditka is really such a legend in Chicago.