I went to the beach one day, and saw an old roadster that had got stuck
in the sand. The driver kept revving the motor, trying to break free,
but the back wheels just dug in deeper. The only thing that could be
heard over the roar of the engine was the endless string of epic
profanity spewing from the driver's mouth. It was pure blasphemous
poetry. Even pirates and drunk construction workers were said to have
5.9 inches square, painted in oil. Available for purchase here.