Yesterday, I had a conversation with a co-worker about this shopping center in the St. Louis suburbs. Technically it’s located in the nearest southern county, but for all intents and purposes, it’s firmly in the suburban sprawl. I don’t spend a lot of time at suburban shopping centers or big box stores, so I asked this co-worker if it was the place with the gigantic sign literally blasted out of a limestone bluff with a three story waterfall coming down the front.
She said that it was, but that the waterfall might be turned off in the winter, did I think the waterfall was turned off in the winter?
I said that I didn’t know because I was hardly ever in that area, and even when I was, I always found the waterfall to be wasteful.
Which I know makes me sound like a pretentious city asshole, but I can’t help it. It’s true that I really don’t shop at places like that or hang out in that part of the suburbs. I don’t because it makes me uncomfortable. Enormous retail outlets requiring multiple 3-ton air conditioning units cranking at full tilt in April, endless parking lots filled with gas-burning SUV hulks purchased for overweight families of three, chain restaurants advertising vacuum-bagged nuke-n-serve meals, assholes wearing t-shirts stating “These Colors Don’t Run ” and Truck Nuttz. Always Truck Nuttz.
While I am normally not an advocate of belaboring a point, there are a few topics that I will never tire of mocking:
1. Truck Nuttz
3. My family
This goes for my blog and in real life, which is why this co-worker and I began our conversation with talk about a shopping center and ended with talk about Truck Nuttz. We agreed that Truck Nuttz are gross, although we both supposed that if a person had to have Truck Nuttz, they should have a chrome pair. Chrome is serious. It’s better than a plastic pair, or blue rubber. Blue Truck Nuttz are the dumbest incarnation of the dumbest car accessory possible, really, because what kind of message are you trying to send? First, your penis is small. Second, you’re too poor to buy a Hummer. Third, not only are you poor and poorly-endowed, but you’re clearly unsatisfied with your sex life. I mean, I understand that the purchasers of Truck Nuttz aren’t terribly smart people and perhaps the subtleties of “blue balls” haven’t occurred to them, but you don’t have to be a Freudian (or even know what a Freudian is) to get it. Any toothless freak who knows the phrase “if she’s old enough to bleed, she’s old enough to breed” knows exactly what blue balls are, and their inability to understand the correlation between them and their choice in car genitalia only speaks louder volumes about their stupidity.
Because in the end, what else are Truck Nuttz but a way to tell the world that you are one World Class Dumbshit? I’ve never looked at a driver of a vehicle sporting Truck Nuttz and wished he would remove that camouflage baseball cap so I could really go to town on him. Sexually, I mean. I’ve never beheld a massive set of rubber testicles dangling from the trailer hitch of a later model Dodge and thought that there was a man who knew how to treat a lady. I have thought that he might know how to treat a barnyard animal or random long-haired backyard wrestling contestant, but orientation isn’t really the point. The point is that Truck Nuttz are a questionable enough accessory that I’m really concerned about their demographic, about the type of person who buys a truck and gets a little lightbulb over their head when they imagine how awesome it would look with a pair of balls, and how there isn’t any sterilization legislation in place to control this population.
I may dislike hipsters with an almost equal passion, but the people who buy Truck Nuttz have way more guns than your average Warpaint fan.