By Amy Silverman
By Olivia LaVecchia
By Monica Alonzo and Stephen Lemons
By Chris Parker
By Michael Lacey
By Weston Phippen
Trust me, if I didn't have the fruits of my penile labors to haul, I'd love to be getting my rocks off driving some turbocharged pocket rocket.
Also, those SUVs are often hauling several people. I hope to soon be moving five Americans down the road at 18 mpg. Alone with her wretched camel toes in her beloved golf cart, Alkon is moving Americans about one-fourth as efficiently as I will be.
Most annoying, though, is her utter disregard for, and ignorance of, the realities of being a parent in modern America. These SUV-driving studs and fillies have used their ample penises and fecund vaginas to make fine broods that now, for the offspring's enrichment, must be hauled great distances many times a day to many different activities. Much must be purchased from far and wide to feed and clothe and house and entertain and educate these broods. At some point, vehicles such as the GMC Suburban become the only logical tool for a family trying to be a good American family.
And as good Americans, we have a duty to get these children to all the activities they'll need to become the upper-income taxpayers America needs to pay for repairs on all the roads worn down by all those sanctimonious, pot-addled tree-huggers driving their oil-burning Subarus to the welfare office.
So I dream of the day I have a big-ass Suburban on which Amy Alkon can put one of her calling cards.
That would allow me to return the favor by puncturing her tires. Then she could be a genuine environmentalist getting infinite mpg as she walked from SUV to SUV.
And as her sexy little car sat there idly saving the Earth, I would place upon its windshield a calling card of my own:
"Nice little car. If my sex organs weren't so superior to yours, I'd consider driving one."