http://www.seriouswheels.com/1950-1959/1955-Buick-Roadmaster-Jay-Leno-oec-1280×960.htm

only unlike Jay, I think my dad had grease on his hands.

I was nine years old when I took my dad's picture; about the same time my older brother told me a whorehouse was where beautiful women lived and coincidentally just now as I type all this stuff some woman on CNN is telling me how yet another minority feels victimized by Obama's picking a white preacher to pray over something. My wife just said she found that old Kodak photo and i was right – I can see my dad's hands have grease on them. Enough of victims and phony gay rage and black pain and women fat gender issues and Jesse Jackson all pissed off because Obama's pulling the rug from under his business all about victims with warm and profitable memories of 'foe hunet yeeas ov OPPreshun' – victim this and victim that – like he doesn't understand that Americans would never elect a victim into the White House. As if he's not busy enough – Obama also has to pull this Humpty Dumpty country back together and his black skin is getting in the way because 100 million fractured suckling American souls of every injured stripe and dry-eyed orientation expect him to help them cash in on that unique sense of personal tragedy they learned from K through an arts BA.

I know what the problem is. It ain't gunna be pretty but it is about to be fixed like a ton o' brix – once and for all. Like, I asked my dog's vet about: coyotes, fox and wolves being wild while dogs are playful and compliant. It seems, feeding and sheltering dogs keeps them in that needy puppy state their entire life – that without survival stress, they are life long tit suckers. A week of starving in the wild, the predator will once again emerge. We were the rocking and rolling and Surfing USAing baby-boomers still caught in permanent adolescence – my sister-in-law now 60 still whining about her oppressive ignorant mother's stupidity – the rest of us spending the last 50 years finding whimpering tribes of pain to belong to – and soon sinking and swimming. Dwarfing the thirties – an economic tidal wave of righteous pay-back is gathering a truth that could only make sense to a wandering psycho filling a sandwich board. Our crushing truth is that we believe we have become a secular society. We are not! We believe in cocktail party martyrs in Versace/Armani Jeans and Diesel Stardust II Boots air kissing and gobbling hard to pronounce hors d’oeuvres provided by pimping off an old story about a grits and rice eating grandma – now schmoozing Oprah for a spot to push their 'down and out' book. It's over "Thank Goodness!"

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