Saturday, April 30, 2011

CWMC Agents Infiltrate "Classic" Car Auction and Steal the Only Good Car

Some Warehouse, Edmonton South Side: Auction day: Mustangs and Camaros. The usual Mr Goodwrench jackets, Bob Drake shirts, cheap shoes and ugly eyeglasses betraying an unmitigated sectarian militancy rarely seen outside countries that didn't used to belong to England or France. Strangely, this type of posturing is seldom seen among collectors of actual cars from either of those countries. Nervous without appropriate car-person camo, CWMC Agents enter, being careful of the floor greasy with tire dressing, and talk loudly of camshaft lobe centerlines to compensate for their lack of colours. The President was satisfied to notice that the only attendees that actually arrived in classic cars were all CWMC Agents, including Agent 1229 in a fantastic all-original 1988 Chrysler T&C woody wagon K-car.

1229's sweet Agency K-car woody
  Eyes burning from the spray-can fumes, they survey the fodder lining the parking lot; will there be any bright spots? Will this be another afternoon of searching in vain for a decent car at one of these sad dumping grounds for the bottom feeders in the shittiest pond in town?
  The President, still a bit buzzed off his "morning double" G&T and smoking a roach he found in one of the Camaros, was initially disappointed. What he had thought was a Peugeot 403 across the hall turned out to be a Pontiac Strato-Chief, and the guy in the rumpled overcoat wasn't Peter Falk. In fact, that wasn't even a cigar he was holding.
The worst car in the world- again!
  Agent 8771, meanwhile, had spotted some potential in a '79 'Bird hidden in the back, being thoroughly ignored by the vast majority of the tire-kickers. It was beginning to look like Operation Irony Sled would get off the ground, after all. Also short-listed were the 1981 Eldorado with continental kit, and a 1977 Mark V in powder blue.
  While 644 registered to bid, the President and Agent 533 took an entertaining stroll through the inventory, pausing more than occasionally to marvel at how far the definition of classic car will be stretched in these auction situations. 1993 Olds 98? Did the sign say "Derby Car Auction Today"? Agent 533 was heard to comment "This is the worst car in the world" so many times the phrase lost its meaning. He was not incorrect, though, and watching the auction staff try to get any of the cars to actually run was a source of some levity.

533 checks out some British Metal
  Agent 644 was registered, and the 'Bird was set to roll through early in the day. After the first couple of cars either failed to sell, or failed to start, or just failed at life, the mood was tense among the Agents. Would everyone just bid on the first car that ran? Next, the 'Bird was up; but what was wrong? The Caddy in front of 644's T-Bird wouldn't start, and none of the staff could figure out how to open the hood. Normally, the Prez would stay so far away from a situation like that, but to get things rolling he just went over and opened the hood, figuring that 15 minutes of fucking-around by the "experts" was quite enough. 
  After the Caddy had made it to the door, the 'Bird was up. Would everyone else recognise the only good car, and bid the price way up? Was it a lost cause, trying to get a good deal at these things?
  No. The bidding started at $500, and was lethargic up to about $1500, when the auctioneer finally noticed Agent 644, who bought the car with a single bid of $1700! Less than half of what was bid on the most disgusting Camaro this reporter has ever seen.

Agent 688 out showing off in her new Cruiser

  As is traditional in these situations, you never take a good look at a car until you've already bought it. In this case, Agent 644 had bought a clean, rust free, smooth-running mega-irony disco sled with perfect glass and new tires to boot. Full Presidential Approval was quickly issued, and all that remains is for Agent 644 to present an unsuspecting Agent 688 her new Agency Cruiser.

Addendum: Agent 688 has taken delivery of her cruiser and reports all systems are go. Nice work as usual for all Agents!

CWMC Compound Declared Disaster Area Again This Year

CWMC Headquarters, Ardrossan, Ab:  With April almost in the books, the snows have finally begun to recede, and with them the last camoflage for the diabolical cataclysmic shitstorm that had been so thoroughly hidden for so long that the President, unable even on a good day to remember more than two-thirds of the alphabet, has spent hours rediscovering lost treasures among the stacks of broken bottles, dead batteries, twisted sheet metal and mountains of empty bondo cans. 
Fresh stock arriving daily
  The Prime Minister today made it official and declared the CWMC compound a Disaster Area Unfriendly Toward Humans. He struggled to keep it together during a recent flyover in a rented CBC Traffic News helicopter, saying only that "The sheer depth of the depravity and un-paralleled shitty-ness of the whole thing is really hard to comprehend. Maybe once, twice in a generation will we be witness to a scene of such post-apocalyptic chaos. Surely something must be done."
Agent Stella guards the merch.
  The President responded to the emerging crisis by first blaming everyone else he could think of, followed by a short bout of denial, and finally on to a series of fervently presented but hopelessly impractical "solutions" that have no value at all except as public relations horseshit and were all therefore unanimously approved. The President has since been handed a blank cheque to improve the situation on the ground.
  "It is with great pride that I hereby declare the CWMC Used Tires and Other Shit Division open for business." said His Hammered-ness at a hastily cobbled-together and somewhat under-attended ribbon-cutting earlier this afternoon. When some propeller-heads suggested that the whole thing looked a touch under-structured and more than a little bit cheaply contrived to scam taxpayer funding, the President immediately concurred and continued pouring double G&T's well into the evening before "closing the store" and trying to remember where he lived, and if it might be nearby.