Tinfoil Viking Science: Dead Letter Shrapnel

Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.

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.

Return Address:
Dale Earnhardt Sr.
Heaven

Addressee:
Jeremy ******
** ***** **
Schaumburg, IL *****

Dear Jeremy,

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.

Your pal,

P.S. Jeff Gordon really is a faggot. God told me so.

12:55 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm

11 Comments:

July 13, 2005 2:39 PM, Caroline said...: The PS is by far the best so far!
July 13, 2005 3:35 PM, Amanda B. said...: Th P.S. really did it for me. That's funny as hell!
July 13, 2005 7:19 PM, alix said...: ROFL, i'm dyin' on the postscript...hahaha!
July 14, 2005 12:34 AM, natalie blair said...: us southerners do love us some nascar [not this particular southerner, but what the hell... willing suspension of disbelief and whatnot]... do have to give you an 'amen' on the postscript... you cheeky fellow...
July 14, 2005 3:33 AM, Latigo Flint said...: Damn skippy Amen!!!
July 14, 2005 7:51 AM, Kerouaced said...: "P.S. Jeff Gordon really is a faggot. God told me so." ha ha ha. Nice ending. How about Hunter S. Thompson?
July 14, 2005 10:23 AM, Dave Morris said...: Jesus, I can barely breathe. Easily your best letter yet.

I fill in occasionally on a morning show here in St. Louis and took a survey of whether Jeff Gordon was gay. Easily 90 percent say yes.

I loved this piece because I truly hate Nascar. Sorry.
July 14, 2005 1:36 PM, Anonymous said...: love the gordon comment steve. there used to be a website for haters www.nfag.com (nascar fans against gordon),the domain's for sale. but if you pay attention, the next time gordon wins a race (which hopefully won't happen) take a close look at what he does after his "girlfriend" (front) gives him a kiss, it's the same thing he did when his "wife" kissed him . . . immediately, he would wipe it off, must be a girlie-cootie phobia . . . or he's just flaming.
July 14, 2005 2:29 PM, OldHorsetailSnake said...: That's all well and good but Dale ain't shittin' me: he's still eatin' squirrel.
July 14, 2005 3:31 PM, Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...: Alan Thicke's career, I think Lessa is the absolute best. She'll get her letter. I think it all went downhill for you after that episode in which Tracey Gold's character's boyfriend died in that drunken driving accident. The show really took a downturn after that.

Holy christ, I can't believe all this reaction to Jeff Gordon. I was just echoing Jeremy, I didn't realize there's a whole movement supporting the notion that he likes boys.

Dave, I don't feel one way or the other about NASCAR. But the stereotypes sure made this an easy letter to write.

I had a nice big story for everyone today, but the internet at work took a big crap on our heads.

It'll be up tomorrow, connectivity willing. I'm at home right now, and the story ain't.
July 14, 2005 7:32 PM, -G.D. said...: Ha, ha! Your mind is twisted.

Awesome blog.