Everything is a legal disclaimer these days*. You can't do anything without reading some warning that doing it may be bad for you. There are disclaimers on McPlaygrounds (I don't know if they're actually called McPlaygrounds*) warning you that you could get maimed by an alligator hopped up on hash while playing and, if that happens, it's not Ronald McFucking Donald's fault...hell, not even the damn Hamburglar's fault* (how did we end up pushing food with an escaped convict as a mascot).
There comes a point where things just start to get ludicrous. We're well past that point now. I submit:
Now I'm for all hop-skippin', knee-slappin' good time with the kids, but holy mutherfucking shit. Maybe you didn't notice it, because it's a web video in the standard crappy ass quality we've become accustomed to*, but I'll help you out:
"Professional driver on a closed course. Do not attempt."
Really? No fucking shit? Well god damn it! There goes my entire fucking weekend. I was just talking about how much fun it would be to load up the rover, grab my handy copy of House of Pain - The Greates Hits (single), strap my ass into a fucking rocket, shoot myself into outer fucking space and drive around the surface of the god damned shit eating moon! What the hell am I going to do now? SON OF A BITCH!!!!
I mean seriously. Do we really need to legally cover our asses in commercials depicting activities that are ABSOLUTELY impossible without the backing of NASA? Let me check real quick...
Hang on....
Nope, there's not a "Join us for a leisurely drive on the surface of the fucking moon" link on their website*. Son of a bitch. I'm one sad sumbitch.
*Absolutely everything in this post is a lie. A dirty filthy lie. And the teller of said lies ais a rat bastard who can drown in swine vomit. And clearly, his previous post was bullshit.
