Smugness has a cost

[genlock]

HUNTINGTON -- BARBOURSVILLE, W.Va. — Three people were transported to the hospital after a two-vehicle accident on Interstate 64 Saturday.

The accident happened on the westbound side of I-64 just after the 29th Street exit just before 7 p.m. Saturday.

Cpl. B.D. Vickers of the Barboursville Police Department said the three people had mostly minor injuries.

Both vehicles, a Chevrolet Corvette and a Dodge Viper, had just got on the I-64, Vickers said.

“The cars just merged onto the interstate and somehow the Viper lost control,” Vickers said.

There was a driver and passenger in the Corvette, and a single occupant in the Viper.

Vickers said when the Viper lost control it hit the Corvette, which then hit the guardrail.

When authorities first arrived, the Corvette was wedged beneath the guardrail with one person partially entrapped. Initial reports also stated that another occupant of the vehicle was ejected, but Vickers said he couldn’t confirm that.

The drivers of the two vehicles were brothers. Both cars had Ohio license plates. Police were not immediately releasing the names of those involved in the accident.

[Jay Nunley]

This is the problem with news. Here's how the story should be written.



Two douchebags from Ohio have proven once again that Buckeyes simply can't drive. Police could not release the names of these two douchebags even though they really wanted to so people would know who they are and be able to avoid them or spit on them. Douchebag #1 was driving a Corvette and Douchebag #2 was driving a Viper. This indicates both douchebags have extremely small penises and therefore have something to prove. This includes deciding to prove their "manhood" by pulling some half-assed Fast and Furious act on the interstate right past the 29th street exit. Only by the grace of Almighty God did the two douchebags not kill anyone travelling on the interstate this past Saturday evening when this act of insane idiocy and depraved indifference to human life took place.

According to Cpl. B.D. Vickers of the Barboursville Police Department, who was too disgusted to laugh his ass off, the two douchebags rubbed and Douchebag #1 lost it and then crashed his Corvette up under the guardrail. For someone reason beyond our ability to understand the two douchebags and an unidentified passenger in Douchebag #1's Corvette were not seriously injured. They were taken to the hospital where much time and money was used up on people who didn't deserve it except maybe the passenger who may have had no choice in the decision to race or even objected to it, although you have to question the character of someone who would get in a car or even hang out with two extreme douchebags like these two.

Here's the kicker. Douchebag #1 and Douchebag #2 are brothers.



I should have went into newspapers instead of radio.

[Arp2]

I should have went into newspapers instead of radio.

"gone"

So, uh, are you sure about that?

[Jay Nunley]

I should have went into newspapers instead of radio.

"gone"

So, uh, are you sure about that?

Dammit! Shouldn't be an English teacher either.

[cgarison]

This includes deciding to prove their "manhood" by pulling some half-assed Fast and Furious act on the interstate right past the 29th street exit.

Having the experience of driving an early model Viper, just easing into the throttle while not paying attention to what you are doing will lead to the fun time of having the ass end of the car pass the front end of the car. Not fun to say the least.

Douchebag #1 did not realize the sick bastards at Chrysler designed one of the best motors in the business and then half-assed the rest of the car built around the motor.

[genlock]

The two brothers were identified as the Landers brothers.
One is apparently a Chiropractor and the other one owns a car accessory place or rt-60.
Car time or something like that.
The WSAZ site identified them via viewer comments but it was taken down for some reason.
They aren't kids, late 30's or so. They are idiots tho.
No word yet on their condition posted.

[Jet Black]

HUNTINGTON -- BARBOURSVILLE, W.Va. — Three people were transported to the hospital after a two-vehicle accident on Interstate 64 Saturday.

It all started with talk, as many things do. It started with two brothers, talking quietly in closed garage. They talked in low tones, enunciating ideas in slow, measured sentences that tried to impose order on the growing chaotic fear that underpinned the talk.

The Landers brothers were workers. They always had been. As teenagers, when they weren't working on the farm, they were looking for cash jobs to work. When the got out of high school, Bill went into college and Bob went into business. And here they were now, both successful in their own ways, both looking at the approaching 4-0 and both evaluating the choices they had made and the choices that had been thrust upon them. Now, though, after years of hard work, the world had turned upside down. All the money squirreled away in 401ks, dried up; all the steady business that years of service had built up, crushed, and neither brother could scarcely imagine what they might have done differently.

The worst, though, was this new President. He loomed up in their minds as a dark spectre, grabbing at the structures that the brothers had believed in and worked withing all their lives; grabbing and twisting, ripping apart, the welded joints of the steel beams that had supported the world popping and ripping like dead sticks snapped and thrown on the funeral pyre. The want to tax cows, they want to double the cost of electricity, they want say who can make money and who can't. But worst off, the new president was thrusting his grasping, sharpened claws ito the car business.

This was the big difference between Bill and Bob: Bill was a Chevy man, through and through; and Bob was adyed-in-the-wool Dodge Man. They had their whole identities wrapped up in their beliefs in the two companies. The memoraized the specs and numbers and comparisons of their favorite cars from years gone by more surely than the baseball junky memorized RBIs and game scores. And like the baseball junky, Bill and Bob believed in their teams like it was a religious convention.

Each had the tests over the years. Bob hung his head throught the K car years, and when the Krauts bought Chrysler, he didn't speak to anyone for two weeks. Bill had his own demons to fight. When Chevy built their last rear-wheel drive car, Bill bitched for the whole year, and bought the last black Impala on the local lot. When the front-drive Impala came out the next year, Bill wrote a letter to the president of General Motors and mailed it, then got roaring drunk for a whole weekend.

But now, this damn new president, who in the hell did he think he was? Who gave him the power to tell GM what to do? Who gave him the power to tell Chrysler who their new boss would be? And worse yet, this damned new president wanted to pull those corporate reins to the left, demanding that the companies build more green cars, as if by the power of his magical Svengali personna he could demand that the first law of thermodynamics would be nullified, and it would be nullified. That by the power of the words from his mouth, the people would buy cars worse, smaller, more deadly than the cars they refused to buy for years. Damn this man and his power, and his incredible ideas, that the car that had made America - made this whole G-D country what it is now, dammit! - was now the enemy, that the truck and the V8 must dies so that the ecocar, this deadly pipe-dream leftist rolling coffin, might live. Like a world-straddling Frankenstein, this new president was keeping the dead corpses of bankrupt GM and Chrysler alive with the design of sticking the disparate parts into some kind of unholy green corporate monster, that he dreams will do his bidding but more likely will run amuck and kill like a claymore in a playground.

The more they talked, the more they worried. The more they worried they talked about how it was. The more they talked about how it was, the more they wanted to feel it again, maybe one more time before some new weekly decree came down from on high, Thall Shalt Not Drive Thine Old Car, Lest The Poor And Polluted Die. So, when Midnight came around, and the State Troopers were off the road, they open the garage door and fired up their prized posessions, their powerful V8 cars, that signified to them freedom and security and the gain of years of hard work, that might soon be redistributed or outlawed or shamed by incited mobs into retirement. And Bill and Bob Landers drove out onto the deserted midnight highway and let loose.

Side by saide they went, now Bill jockeying ahead, now Bob catching an inside curve and gaining a lead. On and on they went. Then it happened: Bob's Viper slung around a high outside curve, and when his headlights hit the object, it was too late to react. It was a piece of bumper cover, really, almost the whole thing, ripped off a dark-colored Ford Focus in some minor contact; or maybe ripped off in a parking lot somewhere and had waited for this inopportune spot to jump off the Campbell's can to which had been attached at the factory. Up it curling into the Viper's front left wheelwell, jammed against the steering linkage and forced the wheels right. The Viper careened into Bill's Vette and both skidded to a horrendous crashing stop.

It took the rescue men seventy minutes to cut both men out of the mangled mess. The heavy frame of the rear-wheel drive Corvette stopped the Viper from crushing the Corvette's cockpit entirely. Bill was hurt badley but not killed. The Viper richochetted off of the Vette and came to a stop on it's top, which mashed in but not enough to kill Bob, who was also hurt badley.

So that was it. A very bad accident. Two men were speeding and collided; very bad. But this reporter sees something different. Two men like two mechanized Don Qioxtes, charging at an evil that rolled over them like a thundercloud. You may say two fools. I say, two Men, doing what they did not only for themselves, but for us.

[Big Media]