Misplaced Pity and the Chevy Crapalier
Anyone who started work for GM after 1982 and thought that they would have a job for life is too stupid to be bailed out. I’m talking to you, Green family. CNN apparently feels for you though, so at least you’ve got that to keep you warm at night. Larry King’s a great spooner.
Two out of three Gormogons (Volgi and ‘Puter) had the exceptional privilege of driving that world-beating GM product, the Chevy Cavalier. Volgi’s was a 1982 and ‘Puter’s was a 1983. In addition to being as stylish as a colostomy bag, the quality control was apparently done by drunken monkeys. Another Cavalier selling point? In order to generate enough power to merge onto the Beltway, you had to turn off the air conditioner.
The third Gormogon drove the Pontiac Safari sta-wag, another fine, fine GM product. Ask GorT about Dremmel tool safety.
So, to the younger (relatively) Greens, ‘Puter says too danged bad. Your company made and makes horrible products and was hamstrung by a greedy, stupid union, of which one of your own, Mike Green, is a local president. And by the time you started, it was apparent that GM was headed to a well deserved reckoning.
To the older Greens, it’s all your kids’ fault. And the fact that your retiree health care benefits make each car that rolls of the lines today noncompetitive in price and quality with non-union Japanese models. But other than that, you’re in the clear.
Always right, unless he isn’t, the infallible Ghettoputer F. X. Gormogons claims to be an in-law of the Volgi, although no one really believes this.
’Puter carefully follows economic and financial trends, legal affairs, and serves as the Gormogons’ financial and legal advisor. He successfully defended us against a lawsuit from a liquor distributor worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid deliveries of bootleg shandies.
The Geep has an IQ so high it is untestable and attempts to measure it have resulted in dangerously unstable results as well as injuries to researchers. Coincidentally, he publishes intelligence tests as a side gig.
His sarcasm is so highly developed it borders on the psychic, and he is often able to insult a person even before meeting them. ’Puter enjoys hunting small game with 000 slugs and punt guns, correcting homilies in real time at Mass, and undermining unions. ’Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where he bursts into people’s tents and screams. As you might expect, he has been shot several times but remains completely undeterred.
He assures us that his obsessive fawning over news stories involving women teachers sleeping with young students is not Freudian in any way, although he admits something similar once happened to him. Uniquely, ’Puter is unable to speak, read, or write Russian, but he is able to sing it fluently.
Geep joined the order in the mid-1980s. He arrived at the Castle door with dozens of steamer trunks and an inarticulate hissing creature of astonishingly low intelligence he calls “Sleestak.” Ghettoputer appears to make his wishes known to Sleestak, although no one is sure whether this is the result of complex sign language, expert body posture reading, or simply beating Sleestak with a rubber mallet.
‘Puter suggests the Czar suck it.