Gentlemen, start your pintos

Posted on February 22, 2005 at 01:05 AM

If you didn't start your day this past Sunday by rolling out of the rack and cracking a PBR, visiting your local wal-mart, or eating at a waffle house, you may not have realized that Sunday's Daytona 500 marked the official start of the Nascar season. You know, that "sport" where drivers are confined to spaces less than that of a yugo, make about 400 consecutive left turns, and are forced to enter their vehicles "dukes of hazzard" style. I don't know about you, but for some reason whenever I hear the word NASCAR, I immediately have visions of Roscoe P. Coaltrain and Enos hopelessly chasing them darn duke boys or Boss Hogg gnawing on a chicken leg.

The only reason I knew that the Daytona 500 was even held last Sunday was because I overheard my drunk neighbor hootin' and hollerin' about it outside. So if you missed the inaugural event of the Nascar racing season, do not fret. You still have many weeks left to regain the respect of your fellow Nascarian brethren by either re-growing your mullet or visiting wal-mart's garden center to stock up on pink flamingoes for your yard. (Don't let your neighbor out do you again this year)

With it being over 24 hours since the race ended, I still couldn't tell you who won. As it seemed I was too busy today to watch or listen to anything sports related, read the newspaper, or surf the web, though I know I could easily find the results of Sunday's race on some web site within a few clicks. It's not that I'm lazy, the fact is that I don't care. Yes Nascarians, I know it's hard to believe that life can exist without your beloved "sport". I've checked my pulse a few times to make sure, but I am still breathing. Though without knowing, I can somehow safely assume though that someone named Kyle, Ricky, Dale, or Jeff probably won, since those names encompass about one third of the drivers in Nascar.

So, if you were lucky enough to miss the coverage of the race, let me give you a sample of what you might have witnessed had you watched the race on TV or, god forbid, were blessed enough to be apart of the shallowest gene pool ever assembled in person (warning: those with an aversion to extreme back hair should not view this image)

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