Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Dead Letter Shrapnel - Dale
You know the drill. Prank time. I'm sending letters from dead people to my friends. First batch goes out tomorrow. I have their actual mailing addresses now. This one goes to a coworker.
Dale Earnhardt Sr.
** ***** **
Schaumburg, IL *****
My big country heart is filled with joy when I see fellas like yourself takin a interest in NASCAR. We need more like you up there in the northern half of The United States Of America givin our racing sport its just due. From places like your home in Illinois we can spread the word about NASCAR like grits on a plate.
This fine sport has grown mighty popular over the years. When I first raced in the Winston Cup back in 1975, most folks was paying attention to Indy racing and never heard a damn thing about stock cars. In my humble opinion, it was downright silly for upstanding Americans to be laying all their adoration down before them funky I-talian pencil cars. I did every dang thing I could to promote the true patriotic automotive sport, NASCAR. I did it the whole time I was down there among y'all. Hell, my daddy done it, and now my son does it too. NASCAR was my life.
Some folks just don't see what you do. They don't see sleek high performance machines flyin like lightning across treacherous pavement. The danger don't strike their sense of awe. The rumble of revvin' engines don't sound like God's own thunder. The smells of exhaust and smokin rubber don't give em a nice buzz. They just don't get it. They don't feel the drama.
They just see brightly painted buckets o bolts zoomin in circles. They think we're a buncha chaw-chewin yokels in dirty underwear trying to drown ourselves in cheap beer and motor oil. They say we're slack-jawed good ole boys livin without the benefit or runnin water and 'lectricity. Hell, they prolly think we're still eatin' squirrels.
You and I know that ain't so. We got glory runnin in our blood, and we share a love for the greatest sport ever to grace this fine earth. I may have died in a ball of burnin gasoline and shredded steel, but I would not change a cotton pickin thing. I would not trade a single moment of my life in NASCAR.
So keep on enjoying the race. Keep on telling folks how great this is. Keep on rootin' for my boy, #8 in the Budweiser car.
Pedal to the metal good buddy.
P.S. Jeff Gordon really is a faggot. God told me so. 12:55 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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