The SUV People: 4.13

Hey there, remember me-- Tim Smith? You know, from over in marketing? Great, great, nice to see you again. You don't remember me? Well, yes, I am hard to distinguish from all the other people I'm exactly like, but hey, comes with the SUV person territory, right, buddy? What's a SUV person? Haven't heard of one, huh? Really? Well, guess I better tell you before you look dumb in front of someone else, right?

First off, it's a lot more than just spending too much money for an inefficient pseudo-truck that tells everyone on the road that you're a horrible person. Oh no. Being a true SUV person is a state of mind.

It means caring as little as possible about your fellow human beings at all times. It's easy to slip up--what with that "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" show on the air. And you know, sometimes those insurance commercials get me, too. But I'm strong and I'm resolute. I will be the biggest jerk I can be, every single day.

Being one of the SUV People means that you've gotta make a lot of money, and let me just say, I do. Unfortunately, the job eats away a lot of my time, even though my assistant pretty much does everything but wipe my tushie. The upside is that I don't have to see my family very much. All my kids are teenagers or something and now they're a huge pain in my aforementioned hindquarters. Oh, work's also a great excuse for when I need to make a late-night 'ho run. And man, nothing attracts the hookers like a big SUV with tinted windows.

Of course, it's not all fun and games in marketing. Oh no, I've gotta earn those six figures. I debase myself each and every day, even if I don't have to. You know, just to keep sharp. Plus, this really helps turn me into a raging ball of bile inside. Which I think actually pretty much takes up the space where my soul used to be.

Really, come to think of it, I probably couldn't be one of the SUV people without my job. After all, it is the source of my small kernel of non-self-loathing that I blow out of proportion to create my ginormous ego.

I guess it also helps that I have a very small member. It means I'm prone to bouts of irrational anger and paranoia. I try to compensate through a rigorous gym program. Usually I do a 30-minute cardio warmup, work my biceps and triceps, usually some abs, followed by another round of cardio and a cool-down, and then end my workout by touching myself to completion in the shower.

I know you think I'm sexy.
Now, you're right that the nature of the SUV People is most apparent on the road. When driving, I've got to constantly be on the lookout for tiny openings in traffic that are much too small for my vehicle to swerve into dangerously. It's tough, you know, to go as fast as I possibly can even when traffic is obviously going much slower that I'd like it to. Of course, I try to have fun with it, you know? I'll be driving along and then suddenly I'll stop and wait until all the other cars are lined up behind, and then I'll attempt to reverse into a space I passed about half a block ago. While talking on my cell phone.

Yeah, sometimes, I'm a little worried that someone might dent my expensive extension of my manhood, but when I see the angry glares of the people as they rocket past me, it makes it all worth it. After all, making other people miserable is the only way I'm gonna feel comparatively okay. And trust me, that's harder than it sounds in Los Angeles. A lot of people smoke marijuana here, you know.

What really defines the true SUV person is committment. A committment to proving through purchases your selfish arrogance and general malevolence toward the human race. That, and proving a total lack of taste.

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