Cogs can think.

As some of you may know, every now and then, I change the tagline of my blog (it’s underneath the big title). There’s no method in that, i just sometimes change it, at will. It was “I can buy you, but I can’t make you do what you don’t” for quite a while, though (it’s from A Camp). You could say each tagline kind of refers to the general state I’m in, but you didn’t get that from me.

I’m in a Dead Like Me period at the moment. For the 38947238957th time, I’m watching all 29 episodes of the two seasons - I can basically lip sync them but I’m still amazed and inspired by it nonetheless. Like I said, it’s not TV, it’s art. Anyway, that’s where my current tagline is from.

For me, it sums up ‘life’. Life is one big consideration: is whatever the hell I’m doing right now, or the things around me, worth sticking around for? Do I drive by Renaatje’s exit when we are talking in the car, continuing the drive so we can talk some more? Do I continue to watch this film, or do I turn it off so I can go make some espresso? Do I continue writing this txt msg, or do I quit because I’m afraid of its consequences? Do I take another Martini, or do I leave for home? Should I take one final chocolate chip cookie, or do I put them away for tomorrow?

And the list goes on. All we basically do in life is consider.

Maybe Rube was right. Smell some fcuking roses already.

I went to the AutoRAI yesterday with Feliesje. We had a great time, and I took about 90 pictures. As always, unedited, straight from the camera. They are only resized for Picasaweb. If you want an original of one or more of the pictures, just contact me.

Eddie Griffin should be shot. No questions asked. He wrecked an Enzo. Jesus Christ.

Things like this piss me off. I would honour this car. I would cherish it. I would go to bed with it. Then, some American comes along, not realising that controlling a 1.1m Euro Ferrari with 660bhp is something different than driving an El Camino down Route 66, and smashes it.

Damn.

Whoever did this to this Veyron deserves to be shot. No questions asked.

To celebrate Spyker’s entrance into the Formule 1 championship, Zagato designed a special version of the Spyker C12 - the C12 Zagato. Spyker is our national pride. This is hand-built lunacy from Dutch soil.

God this is sexy. This, my American friends, is why hypercars are built and designed in Europe.

How can the rest of America sleep when they know this is here?

Jeremy Clarkson while driving through New Orleans, 12 months after Katrina.

I want a Ford Cougar.

I’ll be buying myself a new car when I’m done at university (2.5 years from now). I was in doubt between the Peugeot 406 Coupe and the Ford Cougar, but the fact that the Cougar is built upon the base of the Ford Mondeo kind of gives it a head start; the Mondeo is a highly regarded car, with excellent drivability. Also, the 406 Coupe is French. Which kind of gives it a handicap.

The Cougar came in two basic models, the 2.0l straight four and the 2.5l V6. The latter is a bit over the top for me (and too expensive), but the former is just perfect. The 2.0 has 130bhp which makes it do 10.3s to reach 100kph, with a maximum speed of 209kph. Decent enough.

Other than that, the Cougar is fcuking beautiful. Seriously.

Right now, the Cougar 2.0 goes for roughly 7500-9000 Eur (the new price was 28000 Eur), which is doable for a car like this.

Darn. I can’t wait.

Sometimes, Americans can just piss me off without actively and knowingly doing something wrong.

I was just listening to this song by Eminen and… Akon is his name (thanks Wikipedia), “Smack That”. In this ’song’, Akon, in the chorus, sings about his Lamborghini Gallardo. So what, you say, every rapper sings about his cars.

Yes, but Akon is rapping about a car that does not exist. At least not in the way he pronounces ‘Gallardo’. Akon pronounces it with what in phonology is called a clear ‘L’ (i.e. ‘leap’), while in fact you pronounce it with a ‘j’ consonant (’yes’).

This just pisses me off for some reason.

I was just driving through my hometown, with The Cardigans in my car’s CD player, at maximum volume. At the side of the road, I see a man and a woman, in their late 50s I suppose; the woman is supporting the man, the guy was clearly having trouble walking, despite his walking stick. He may have been blind as well, I couldn’t tell.

As I’ve been taught by my parents, I stopped, and waved at them that they could safely cross the road. As they get to the other side, the woman raises her hand in greeting, and I greet back; I release the clutch, and just as I’m about to set my foot on the gas pedal, Nina Persson sings:

Well you get what you give

I felt all sparkly and warm inside.