not never.

i never paid much attention to the "never say never" philosophy. i always thought that only cowards wouldn't take a stand against sumthin…that only they didn't have the guts to say that there are things in their lives that they would NEVER allow to happen. well, here i stand before you, still a man who refuses to accept the never say never philosophy. i refuse to accept it even after promising myself that i would never stop playing golf as much as i did in my youth, like i had seen so many stiffs do, even when i was forced to grow up and get a 9 to 5. i haven't played a round of golf in two years. i refused to accept never say never even though i can remember the day like it was yesterday when i stood in front of the mirror in my father's bathroom, looked him square in the face, and vehemently spoke the words that haunt me to this day. "dad, my hair will never fall out." i finally threw away my last half used can of murray's hair grease just last week, after not touching it since clinton was president. man, i looked good with hair. anyway. the list of times that i’ve been wrong with my "nevers" goes on and on. most of them sit in a not so far away place in my mind taunting me exquisitely. and even though i have been wrong about what will never happen to me in my life, there is one thing that i will die before ever letting befall me. what is the atrocity that is so heinous that i vow to never let it happen to me?

I WILL NEVER EVER, IN THIS LIFETIME OR ANY OTHER, STOOP SO LOW AS TO PURCHASE A MINIVAN. NOT NEVER.

i was in the drive-thru at the local taco bell tonight, minding my own business, when the aforementioned monstrosity pulls up, parks, and a guy gets out. no wife. no kids. just him. not that having the fam-damily in tow would have excused this egregious error...cause, i wouldn't have. i bring it up only because that's the faulty rationale that i so often hear associated with the purchase of one of these "castrations on wheels." (yes, you can barrow that.) and here this pitiful excuse for a man has the nerve to leave the house driving his erectile dysfunction around town like it’s the thing to do. just disgusting. let me clear up sumthin else. anyone that knows me knows that i am still caveman enough to feel that there are things for men to do, and things for women to do. i am adamant about this, and i will be until i die...cold and alone. but in relationship to the issue at hand i see no gender difference. if you sink so low as to buy a minivan, man or woman, you repulse me just the same. from soccer moms to mister moms, i personally feel that the owning of a minivan is an admission of the plain and simple fact that you unequivocally have no taste what so ever. it’s like a woman showing up to her girlfriends wedding wearing white. shit, it’s like that same girl showing up to the same friend’s funeral wearing white. classless. i don't care how many times you’ve seen get shorty, john travolta DOES NOT own a minivan in real life. you know why, because travolta has panache. i also don't care how many electrical sliding door, eighteen cup holding, multiscreen movie projecting, seventh row fold down seating, contraptions they install in those rolling turds there is NEVER going to be enough usefulness to justify me or anyone buying a minivan. if the entirety of the swiss fucking army got together and personally designed the most spectacular limited edition, signature series minivan in the history of minivans, made it the official vehicle of the swiss army, and drove a fleet of those fuckers to whatever wars the swiss army fights, I STILL WOULDN’T BUY ONE. not if i have ten kids, not if my wife tells me she won’t ever sleep with again unless we buy one, not if that wife looks like salma hayek with the pre-baby waist, and the post-baby breasts…not even then will i buy a fucking minivan. not never.