Thursday, August 24, 2006

Loudon Nights: The Legend of Robbie Barker

The sun was setting on another spectacular day on the grounds at Stately Pinhead Manor. As the hired help began to pack up their Toyota Corollas, humming their school fight song "Fight Mass" to each other after an 8 hour day of mowing lawns and pulling weeds, one of them stopped by the Manse with a request.

Normally, your superiors wouldn't consort with someone who earns money "hourly", but feeling a bit eleemosynary, we allowed the artisan into our midst to hear his meager entreaty. It seems our unlettered proletarian hailed from the Granite State and requested the weekend of September 17 off to attend the wedding of his sister which was to take place following the "Sylvania 300" NASCAR race in Loudon, New Hampshire.

With our patrician mouths agog, the people you wish you were struggled to find articulation. As we rushed to open another 21-year old bottle of Dalmore, we had no choice but to approve his request for the time away from the Manor. After he left to re-join his fellow half-wits in the Corolla, your superiors did some research into "NASCAR" to find out why it appeals to such a puerile and bourgeois portion of the south and New Hampshire.


New Hampshire, known as the "Redneck Riviera" by most New Englanders, is proud to support NASCAR as well as other white trash activities.

Admittedly, your superiors know very little about NASCAR. It appears, though, that it resembles the goings-on that take place outside the window of the Bentley as our driver weaves through traffic on our way into Louisburg Square to meet our college chums. According to some churls, this activity is considered a 'sport' and is attended by thousands of grotesquely obese yokels. Wearing their best "who farted?" t-shirts, they douse themselves in domestic back wash and cheer for loud noises while filling their overalls with urine.


Loudon, New Hampshire's population swells with sophisticated NASCAR fans from across the Granite State.

We certainly don't intend to sound crass, but NASCAR is no more a sport than taking a jaunt on a golf cart or watching one of our drones ride the bus. In the absence of sports such as polo or learning to raise a keel, gunnysack inhabitants of states such as New Hampshire turn to an activity that requires no more athletic ability than to perpetually turn left while spitting into a brass cup.


Race fans from NH will spend hours on the phone with Ticketmaster seeking elusive NASCAR ducats hoping to witness the sport's next fatal wreck.

Fans of this activity, it appears, are what give NASCAR its edge among those who find siblings attractive and feel Don Knotts is the greatest actor in American history. Although beginning in the south, it was only a matter of time until "the sport of serfs" reached Confederate New Hampshire as its inhabitants are made for NASCAR: slow, doltish, and devoid of all sanitary persuasion.

Your superiors hope our landscaper has a boisterous time in Loudon and look forward to his return. When he does make it back to Stately Pinhead Manor, the proper delousing and necessitous penicillin shots will be administered prior to his return to employment.


BU runs on Dunkin

Collar Up.

7 Comments:

At 6:39 PM, Blogger Alex F. said...

Welcome back, guys. Just 6 more weeks until America's Team takes the ice again

 
At 7:55 AM, Anonymous bonjoviboy said...

Thanks for looking for Timmy on Saturday afternoon.

 
At 7:42 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

www.mellencamp.com/

 
At 7:36 PM, Anonymous Crowbar the redneck trucker said...

i have impotant businees to take care of. I wents to UNH and gots a mastars degre so you need two stop pickin on dem knew hamshere peoples.

 
At 12:49 PM, Blogger Patrick Lane said...

crowbar is conducting breakthrough chemical research on how to construct the perfect eightball at UNH's Thompson School of Applied Sciences.

Previously, he graduated summa cum laude with a B.S. in Cowmilking, with a minor in Methampetamines.

When he's not offering pharmeceuticals to young, impressionable underclassmen, he can be found in downtown Durham, asking co-eds if they want to "see his tattoos."

 
At 8:23 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

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At 4:19 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

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