rangelife

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.

License Plates of the Damned, Part 3

When I first saw the Outback parked so close to my VW that I had to climb through the passenger door just to get in, I yelled at the empty car, "What a douchebag!"

(click to enlarge)

But when I saw the license plate, I amended: "What a hilarious douchebag."

T BAGGER. Huh huh huh.

Still, kiss my ass for parking me in like that.

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Elsewhere: Kanye's music vid of the year, with Galifinakis and Oldham.

200 rally for Mike Vick in ATL. Sample sign: "We Support Vick a Human Being Over Dogs".

Ex-Texas cop teaches how to avoid getting busted with weed. Hint: don't throw it out the window.

PlanetHiltron.com: Proof that a pretty face only works in context.

Via the indispensible AdamRiff: Simpsons opened stronger than Transformers, while Who's Your Caddy? belched death. Read all 'bout this and Harry Potter's "hot new cume."

Washington Post's The Fix declares "the 2008 preseason is over." And here are the power rankings. For the Dems, it's (1) Hillary, (2) Obama, (3) Edwards, (4) Richardson, (5) Dodd. For the GOP, it's (1) Romney, (2) Rudy, (3) Non-Candidate Fred, (4) McCain, (5) I Heart Huckabee. WHERE IS NEWT?!?!?

License Plates of the Damned, Part 2

Proof that -- delightfully -- nobody at the California DMV is censoring vanity plates anymore:

These were spotted four days apart.

License to Annoy

Two vanity plates that deserve broader exposure:

Number 1: I didn't think one could spot a more offensively stupid vanity plate than the type that expresses pride of and pleasure with the car make. You know like "BENS BMW" or "MY M3 F-U."

Then, I saw this atrocity slummin' at Levitz in San Leandro:

Everything about that scene is horrible.

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Number 2: The mid-'90s were an ugly time for rock n' roll, one of those moribund hangover periods that naturally occur when a trend has outworn its welcome (grunge, in that case). It was in that period that a band surfaced to bring one, solitary hit to the world. The band, Dishwalla. The song, "Counting Blue Cars," a.k.a. that "Tell Me All Your Thoughts on God" song. Shit was deep.

Whether this car (parked in the 1000 Van Ness garage) belongs to a rabid fan with two babies or a band member remembering those three thrilling weeks at the top of the Hot 100, we can say one thing for sure: Better this than a tattoo.

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NFL Update: No, I don't know what happened to my weekend NFL picks post. I'll blame Typepad, but I'll take personal responsibility for only picking the NFC games correctly.

Scratch that, I'm only taking responsibility for one of the AFC losses -- the other goes to Vanderjagt.