January 20, 2012

Dear Luvdoc,
My husband recently got himself a pair of metallic truck nuts and hung them on the back of his Silverado.
I have to say a line’s been crossed.
How do I break it to him gently, Luvdoc, that I don’t want to be driving around in any vehicle that’s got a pair of chrome-plated faux bull testicles attached to it?

Sincerely yours,
Teabagged in Tarrytown

Two words, Teabagged: truck twat. The time has come. It’s what Fox News would call “fair and balanced” (which, by the way, are the names of Rupert Murdoch’s testicles). If your husband has the temerity to tool around River City (or even Buda, for that matter) with a bovine scrote swinging from his hitch, there’s a good chance that whining about his insensitivity won’t put the kibosh on his freeballing. You need to hit him where he’s sensitive … and believe me … people with big cajones are more sensitive than you might think. Once he sees your bitch hitch has wizard sleeves, he might just castrate his Silverado without even being asked. Remember, just like balls: the bigger the better. Make sure your truck twat is massive enough to intimidate even the most confident bull. That should to the trick, but be prepared to up the ante. With a couple of quarts of pig blood, some polyethylene tubing, an IV bag, and a modified fuel pump, you can design a truck twat that hits all phases of the menstrual cycle. Don’t cut him any slack. If you do it right, he will be out there at least three days of every month scrubbing the red stains off the driveway. You might also want to drive a little crazier during those times as well: Cut people off; stop short and get rear-ended; run some reds. He may not get the brilliant symbolism, but rest assured that after a few months’ worth of dealing with a bovine-sized red tide, he’ll be looking for a way to compensate for his small penis that doesn’t involve chrome-plated mountain oysters.