While it’s hard to believe for those who know me, I spent twenty-four years of my life in the American South. For those who don’t know me — it’s surprising because:
- I don’t have a southern accent.
- I don’t like sweet tea.
- I’m not an idiot.
For those of you who don’t have the pleasure of having spent time in the South, allow me to give you the Cliff’s Notes version:
Yes, this is really happening.
What you’re looking at is a pair of “Truck Nutz.” They capture nearly every quality of your typical southerner all in a convenient, easy-to-see scrote-sack. While it’s hard to tell if these things are more or less of an eye-sore than the Confederate battle flag, they both serve to send the same unmistakable message: the driver is a hillbilly chucklefuck who is best left ignored and marginalized.
It’s about time I wrote this entry because those who know me when I get started on this topic know that I just can’t shut the fuck up about Truck Nutz.
Things about the South that Truck Nutz capture:
- A sense of masculinity that hasn’t matured beyond the 4th grade.
- Childish vulgarity.
- Complete and utter ignorance of reasonable social norms.
Although I have to hand it to the man who invented Truck Nutz — it is the logical next-step for those who already require an F-350 to compensate. What says “I’m using my truck as a dick-replacement” more than actually attaching a pair of nuts to the base of the vehicle?
To those of you who want to color-coordinate with your vehicle, or perhaps for those who wish to coordinate with the liturgical colors of the season: fret not. Truck Nutz come in a variety of colors.
Taste the rainbow.
I’d like to catch the motherfucker riding around town with blue balls, but that’s another story. If this shit hasn’t already blown your mind, consider the following pair:
Camouflage Truck Nutz!? It doesn’t even make any sense! First you want me to see the balls, now you want to hide them from me? You need to make up your mind already.
Perhaps the worst thing of all is that, while ubiquitous, Truck Nutz are impossible to get used to if you’re a reasonable, rational human being. F-350’s are jacked up so high that at a traffic light the homeboy in front of you is practically tea-bagging your Civic.
I think I see where this trend is going, so I’m going to make a prediction about the future pick-up market. Let’s observe the limit of the pick-up truck as it approaches infinity: