I pause to mourn the death of a true Fat Bastard; R.I.P. the S.U.V. You’ve been on life support for the last decade, living in a Bush denial bubble where there were no insurgents in Iraq, rich people were not selling out their nation for a tax cut, and we could drill ourselves out of the oil-hole we’ve drilled ourselves into. And as the bloated body of the Sport Utility Vehicle goes down for the third time allow me to point out that it was rarely sporty, never utilitarian and barely mobile enough to qualify as a vehicle unless soaked in gasoline. So, farewell you Fat Farce: you will be missed the way most binges are missed, with a hangover and no clear memory of all the fun we thought we were having.
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