Pretty women drive nicer cars.

I’m not expressing a fondness for pretty women, mind you. A class of people that usually doesn’t have to work for things, grows to expect the world to hand them things they haven’t merited or earned, and has grown used to the dumbest fucking comments, attitudes, and habits being given special treatment, ends up being a lousy fuck. Seriously, you want to get laid, really laid? Stay away from the barbie dolls – they break easily, and they tend to have a deficiency of identity (no one is really there) – they’re lousy fucks, except to guys who think any fuck is a good one, and those guys just don’t have broad enough experience. That’s OK, they’re picking off the trophy babes, and leaving a more fascinating market for the rest of us. The car thing is just a symbol of the barbie girls, because it represents being taken care of – by a man – a Daddie. Yeah, they’ll throw a tantrum and pout if you apply a man’s standards to them, and they’ll whimper that they’re “equal” (whatever that means), but they aren’t equal, and they aren’t up to a man’s standards. The blonde in the red car – good stereotype to draw on, because it’s so prevalent – dollars to donuts, you pull them over and a man contributed to that purchase somewhere along the lines, or is subsidizing the barbie, which allows that purchase to be made. Pretty women driver nicer cars – you were OK with that weren’t you – until we pointed out that the reason is the same as the reason they go to bars without taking more money than it takes to buy the first drink. You know, and I know, and they know, so let’s stop futzing around about it and be honest. Daddy’s little girl, even if her Daddy is not her Daddy, drives a nicer car than the chick working in the independent bookstore, with the pierced forehead, the cropped black hair, the unshaved legs, the organic cotton skirt from a tribe in South America, and the “Say No to Starbucks” button. And it’s not just because she’s on financial aid at the community college. It’s because girls who look like the one in the red car don’t usually go to community college, and certainly don’t have to work in a bookstore. Daddy provides. You might think this is bitterness. Nope – I just don’t like bullshit. Part of wanting to see the truth behind everything, is having to cut away the illusions that large segments of society have placed there. Turn the TV to any sitcom. You think they can afford a house that size? A garbage man in Queens with a two story mansion? Fuck no. This is like that, if you think about it. Still, it’s fun. One of my versions of eye-spy is to count blondes in red cars (or any convertible), and guess whether it’s a dye job – she’s earning her keep, you know. What, you thought it wasn’t sexual with Daddy? Oh yes, it’s all bound up in Daddy’s sexual attitudes too, even if he’s not specifically attracted to her in particular. In fairness, it’s not only girls who make good eye-spy: I like to gauge the midget-like character of all those Midwestern guys in baseball caps driving the enormous pickups with no passengers and nothing in the back. How many of them need it for work, and how many are in a running dick-size contest with the other yahoo on their block? You probably have your own games.