Twelve Days of Truckin' Terror Monday!

Hey, hey! The elections will be over tomorrow, and I (like most of you) will be glad that I won't have to watch any more ads. I get more jaded as time goes by with the process, but let me offer this: If you are basing any voting decision on anything you've read online, that's a poor method. A quick check of snopes can show you that almost everything you hear online about Obama, McCain, Palin or Biden is factually inaccurate. I encourage everyone to visit both Obama and McCain's web sites, see what they propose to do and how they plan to do it. Then, ask yourself which person's policies you endorse and how likely they are to keep their promises. Whoever you choose, it will be an improvement over W. A big improvement. Poppin' Fresh, the Pillsbury Doughboy, could win the election and it will be a big improvement, so I'm hoping for a better America, no matter who wins.

Enough of that. On with U.S.1, or in this case U.S.1 #2. You'd think that might make it U.S.2, but it doesn't!

Hey! It's a greasy spoon brawl! Because folks in the Plains area love themselves some brawling! I rarely get through a meal without at least one fight breaking out:


Oh, the self-aware banter! Hilarious in its homespun wisdom!

Where's our hero? Oh, there he is, in his uniquely decorated big rig:


Yeah, that's quite a unique design there. I rarely see truckers who are proud to display the Red, White & Blue.

If you want a unique design on a big rig, show me a truck that promotes tolerance and harmony among people of all faiths and nationalities. And homosexuals.

It only hurts because it's true.

Oh, and there's a really bad guy. You can hit him in the head with hand tools:


You can hit me in the head with any tool in the box, if it means I don't have to keep reading.

But no such luck:


Did I mention that U.S. has a metal plate in his head? Big deal. Didn't we all have at least one gym coach who had a plate in his head?

Anyway. Leave us to meet the true villain of the issue:


This is one of the few times I've found a woman in skintight leather carrying a whip boring. It's like I'm reading the official comic adaptation of Showgirls.

Anyhoo, she comes riding up with her whip out and hijinks ensue.


What kind of idiot swings a whip around while riding in a motorcycle? I mean, my experience in this area is nonexistent, but don't you think there would be a disproportionately high likelihood that the whip could get tangled in a wheel and send you face first into a ditch? It's just physics.

Moving right along, U.S. uses all kinds of amazing gadgets that we've never seen in a James Bond film, like oil slick. And sharp pointy things. Ian Fleming's lawyers assemble!


But don't worry kids! They dissolve or something! Allegedly before another car comes along. I'm sure that's a safe bet, because what is the chance that a car will be found on a highway?

This line makes it all almost worth it:


If I ever open a "massage" parlor, that's what I'm going to call it.

See you tomorrow!