I guess it’s OK for the Circle City to become one huge used car lot. Everywhere I go there are cars planted on lawns, poking out from driveways, or otherwise strategically placed to sell. The intention of the placement is made explicit by signs reading, “For Sale.”
We’re not talking about professionaly printed placards, mind you. Fuck no! According to this system of marketing, first the beater in question serves as an eyesore, then the tiny, hand-written telephone number attempts to get as many motorists as possible to peer full force, fail ultimately to read the digits, and get in a wreck.
Fuck, after you wreck your car trying to read the sign, you can buy the auto in question. The circle remains unbroken.
Seriously, people, this junkification of Indy (and and surrounding municipalities) has got to stop. It would be one thing if the inventory were turning, but, for fuck’s sake, I see the same brokeass cars on the same lots for months on end!
Fucking shell out for a newspaper ad, you stupid fucks! When I see a Benz plopped down on a Meridian-Kessler driveway, I wonder what Pluto and Proserpine are thinking. “Honey, our house appraised for $1.5 million. Let’s set our car out for all to see. Let’s make it ‘For Sale.’”
Incredifuckable. I don’t give a FUCK about the cars you don’t need or your interminable “Yard Sales,” “Garage Sales,” and “Moving Sales,” either. You and your whole family sit out on your lawn all day to sell at most $50 worth of garbage. You know you could work a minimum wage job to make that much money, don’t you? You know you could save a ton of fucking time by dumping your useless crap on Goodwill or the Salvation Army, don’t you?
Stupid beater-selling, shit-flogging mutherfuckers, get some goddamn sense into your fucking heads!