This is so true it is not even funny!
Its not a pig, it's a????? (1 Viewer)
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This is so true it is not even funny!
Mark W
Yep, it's true. I just don't care that much.
Henry's piece is based on earlier writing (ranting) Here is a bit of Iron Pig lore, starting with the very first post on the LCML where I originated the term.
___________________
I have just returned from a pilgrimage to the mountain (one of them anyway)
And what do I find? I read the writings of those who should know better,
denigrating the noble ancestor of their overfed "comfortized" vehicles. An
FJ55 UGLY?!?! The true test of any prospective member of the brotherhood
MUST be the ability to see function over form. The FJ45 wagon was the first
model to take the Cruiser concept toward it's logical path. A real
utility/expedition/work vehicle, in the third world market for which the
Cruiser is designed, MUST have CAPACITY. While the FJ40 is a remarkable rig,
it is not overly blessed in this aspect. The '45 wagon was the simplest
approach to solving this. Simply stretch the '40. The '55 was the next
logical step, a Cruiser designed from the start as a four door, large
capacity rig. The '60 may have more rounded and
blended lines, but this adds nothing to function. And pure beauty is found
in pure function. There is nothing ugly about a factory PTO winch. There is
nothing ugly about 35s wearing tire chains. There is nothing ugly about a
5'x8' roof rack. These things are not graceful and rounded either. They are
purely and simply functional. Since I have returned and found myself
surrounded by unbelievers and borderline infidels, I am hereby declaring the
formation of the Knights of the Iron Pigs. Our divine mission will be to
defy those who would insult and defile the purity of the exalted FJ55. If
you chose to bounce around in an FJ40 and belittle the holy wagon, we will
submit your phone number to hungry j**p salesmen, and tell them you really
want one of those macho Wranglers so that you can climb the curbs at the
Sizzler parking lot. If your disrespect occurs while driving one of the
overweight offspring of the original Land Cruiser "Salon Car", our wrath
will be even greater. You will find the same aforementioned salesmen waiting
in your driveway, with a j**p grand crapokee, complete with unibody
construction, and totally pointless "aerodynamics package". The only
acceptable penance will be to load your vehicle with two weeks worth of food
and gear for a party of 4, and set out over rocks, bogs, hills and streams,
while repeating endlessly "Function Over Form, Function Over Form. The only
ugly Cruiser is the one which can't perform." If this is insufficient
persuasion, just insure that the next '55 you call ugly doesn't happen to
have 4 inch square tube bumpers at each end, and a smattering of boulder
bites. Ugly is as ugly does...
Mark... Self declared "First Knight of the Iron Pigs." Thou shalt know our wrath, and it shall be fearsome.
_________________________________
Does she wallow down the trail, ponderously floating across the bumps
that send '40 drivers to the chiropractor? Does she dig and churn her way
through a mudhole like she was born in one? Does she have less grace in
the tight spots than a 300 pound ballerina? Does she weigh more than a
pair of some other 4x4s? Is she faster than a stumbling drunk (but just
barely)? Are the corners simply "out over yonder somewhere" when you
undertake to rockcrawl with her?
If the answers to all of these questions are yes (and I'll bet they
are), then face it. Your Olga is a Pig. An Iron Pig of the best kind. Do
not misunderstand and feel that this is a slander. It is a mark of
pride. Join the Knights of the Iron Pig. We boldly (and slowly) go where
others wish to tread, while carrying the load of all expeditions. While
others rush to the cause, and defend the beauty of our steeds, you have
hung back and look to be forsaking the call. Do not join the
non-believers who have been lured by the temptation of form over
function. When we rise up and cry Jhiad, do not abandon your brethren.
Olga is a Pig. And she is proud to be one. Just ask her...
Mark...
Self Proclaimed First Knight of the Iron Pigs
_____________________________________
> Maxwell Balmain <mbalmain@accessone.com> writes:
> > There are a lot of new folks on this list(I guess I still qualify) I was
> > wandering if anyone could post a review of the Knights of Cruiserdom. Who
> > are these guys and how did they achieve such honored status? Being a
> > proud owner of a FJ55 I do know that Mark Whaltley is the First Knight of
> > the Ironpigs! Who are the other Knights??
>
> I think the knights are a renegade band, not sanctioned by Brother Andy or
> anyone else.
>
> Mark Whatley is the First Knight, but I don't think he's every knighted
> anybody. Knights must complete a quest I think. I know I've sought the
> grail, and discovered it several times. I don't know if there are any other
> knights.
Okay, time to skip my medication for a couple of doses and answer this...
In the days of olde, when the world was young (or the list was anyway) there
were many strange sects which worshiped the Cruiser Gods at their various
alters. But never mind all that, cause the Knights were never one of those
effete
sort of bands
I proclaimed myself First Knight, named the FJ55 as the Iron Pig, and founded
the Horde (well, my twisted alter ego did anyway) in response to an era of less
than proper attitudes toward our revered mount. A few irreverent knaves were
espousing feelings to the effect that the stalwart lines of the Pig were less
than pleasing to the eye, and that the longish hindquarters sacrificed more than
the carrying capacity made up for. They ridiculed the graceful wallow of the
boars. They doubted a Pig's right to travel the further reaches, and acted as if
Function was somehow less important than form! I stumbled across this travesty
upon a return from a trek through the wilderlands (okay, I spent a few days in
the field...). My rage knew no bounds (well I was a little miffed at least...).
Jihad was declared. A call was issued to those who treasure the truth of
Function over Form, to those who understand the nuances of our noble beast, and to those who just have a bad attitude toward their playmates. All who rally to our cause are, and forevermore will be known as the Knights of The Iron Pig. We accept no secular authority and recognize no rules of established behavior other than those which are thrashed out around the watch fire or on the field of battle. Our divine cause, set down straight from the Cruiser Gods themselves is to smite
those who shall belittle or denigrate the noble Pig, and to demonstrate the folly
of appearance without utility. Our most formidable foe is the dreaded Maximus
Ferrous Oxidious, but he also has our deepest respect, for he is among the few
who can fell a Knight and his steed. While we distain the pampered SUV driver,
our true disgust and antipathy is reserved for the Posuers of the Pavement.
Whilethe Cruiser Gods have set forth our mission, the battle against the Posuers is personal. If truth be told it is less of a battle than it is a duty to exterminate vermin and pests.
Along with our other formidable weapons, the Knights are the keepers of the
Caged Jeep Salesman, and the Clueless Yuppie Sister Inlaw, which are reseved for those occasional blood feuds and other minor misunderstandings with other followers of the Cruiser gods who might fail to see things in the correct light (any way but ours that is...). A broadsword is a fine settler of disputes, but nothing makes a point like laying was to your opponent's villages with a contagious jeep
salesman working on commission, or destroying their vehicles and their sanity with
a insipid yuppie bimbo.
Do not confuse the Horde with The Hoard. Trifle not with the Knights or our
heroic rides. Fear our wrath, for it shall be terrible... That might not be a
tornado that you sight on the horizon, but instead a troope of '55s coming to
root and rut in your fields and and storehouses, and tear down your gates and
watch towers.
>
> I have certainly been annointed with holy ninety-weight, I have been struck
> between the eyes by the grease turd of enlightenment, I have journeyed
> through the valley of the Rubicon. I nearly failed at Rubicon Springs, but
> returned at the darkest hour with a new steering box. I was cursed by
> Brother Andy for clubbing Karr's cruiser, yet I did return and was not
> struck down nor eaten by Buddy Dawg. Yea, verily.
>
> Sir Mark: I hereby submit a request for a quest. Or do the leather seats
> disqualify me?
>
> morgan
It does seem that you have misunderstood. While Brother Andy may withhold his
blessings from those that he does not deem worthy of the sects which seek his
favor, the Knights hold little with that practice. None shall tell use we are not
the Knights. And none need tell us that we are. If you share our quest, then you
share our name and our loyalty.
Do you think that a unibody is appropriate construction for a heavy duty off
road vehicle?
Do you think that a two speed transfer case is unnecessary?
Do you consider 31x10.50s large tires?
DO you consider BFG MTS to be an "extremely aggresive" tread pattern?
Do you consider a 5000 pound vehicle heavy?
Do you consider 4.11 gears steep?
Would you choose a rapier over a claymore?
Do you find the Iron Pig ungainly or ugly?
Can you haul all the gear and supplies that you need for extended travel far
from settled lands in a smaller rig?
Are boiled leather and iron studs better than chain mail and plate?
Do you feel that the way your rig looks is as important as the way it works?
Is more costly automatically better than less costly?
Is mass produced better than hand fabricated?
Your answers to these questions should give a good indication of whether or
not you can ride with the Knights. Here's a hint... it's the same answer for all of
them, and it starts with "N".
And BTW, leather seats most certainly do not disqualify you. Remember, Function
Over Form. Leather has to be just about the most function material to cover a
seat with that has been discovered or devised.
Stop waffling. Strap on your sword belt, grab your axe, mill your head, toss
on an Offy and an AFB and kick some Pavement Posuer butt. If you spy any greenies, smite them as well.
And don't forget you've got second watch tonight, so go light on the ale afterwards
The First Knight has spoken. Any objections out there?
_______________________
Andrew H. Litkowiak wrote:
Well, my Brethren,
When Mark goes off his meds, he really goes off his meds.
I would urge all shortie40 owners to exercise great caution when the First
Knight bleeds
all the thorazine out of his system. He has been known to resort to some
rather...extreme
measures when provoked.
Hey, ya gotta let the psychosis overwhelm the chemicals once in a while. Flex the muscles and let the blood flow (figuratively speaking that is... usually...). As as to "extreme". One man's extreme is another man's feeble. I mean, there are some folks out there who actually consider a cat 'o nine tails extreme for spanking children! Can you believe that?
Usually, the First Knight and his followers reserve their wrath for the
occupants of
lesser 4x4 vehicles (and the occasional Ford Escort). Their weapons are
fearsome. The
arsenal includes diesel powered cruise missiles, 55 sized lawn doughnut parties
and loads
of Alaskan peat bog. All this and more, aimed directly at any who look
cross-eyed at an
Iron Pig.
Unfortunately, these weapons are occasionally directed at the Brethren. Even
this would be
tolerable, (you shouldn't be insulting 55's) were it not for the ultimate
terror weapon.
It is employed against both Brethren and the unwashed masses. I refer, of
course, to the
J**p Salesman.
Actually a section of onagers is a heck of lot more intimidating than the cringing, drooling creature in the Cage.
The use of the salesman shows us the true nature of the Knights. It is the
ultimate act of
barbarism, employed against civilized Cruiser owners. Those who would scoff,
take heed!
This is no idle threat. I have performed the sad task of counseling the
families of the
pathetic remnants of once proud Brethren victimized by this evil practice.
The beauty of the Salesman is not so much his effectiveness, but rather his unique suitability for use against those who worship the true gods. Face it, what would be the point of using such a foul creature on a non-believer who actually enjoys driving a j**p?
The J**p Salesman's origins were shrouded in mystery, but I have meticulously
reconstructed the events that lead to his appearance in the arsenal of the
Knights. The
Salesman was once the top J**p seller for the entire United States, 3 years in
a row. This
man personally sold 450 J**ps per year. He was the ultimate fanatic, totally
dedicated,
relentless, unstoppable.
Anyway, he was vacationing in the great State of Alaska one fine summer (usually the
second and third week of July). Traveling at high speed in his Grand ChuckeeCheese, he hit
a gopher. Needless to say, the J**p was totaled. The Salesman was gravely injured, near
death. Fortunately (or unfortunately) Mark Whatley happened along the accident site. In
true Alaskan fashion, he stopped to render what aid he could.
For the record, Mark and the First Knight may occasionally occupy the same space, but they are not the same person. Never forget this
First, he freed the gopher from the wreckage. Ascertaining that the gopher was
just a
little shaken up, Mark then rendered aid to the Salesman. Or was about to, when
he spotted
the sales awards and other J**p literature strewn among the wreckage. It was at
this point
that Mark spawned his evil plan.
Actually the dogs got to the squirrel before I did May he rest in peace.
Instead of transporting the grievously wounded Salesman to the nearest clinic,
Mark hauled
him to the Knights compound and nursed him back to health, after a fashion. The
Salesman's
head injuries left him in a state of partial amnesia. He retained his
fanaticism, but lost
his identity. He was left with naught but the overwhelming drive to sell J**ps.
The First
Knight carefully molded his weapon. And when he was physically healed, he was
ready.
Well we didn't really rescue him. While we were shoving the wreck into the ditch and out of the way, the "salesman" slimed his way into one of the wagons to try and sell a gagoneer to the occupants. What he failed to realize was that oh so familiar blank stare that he elicited was not due to the enthrallment of his pitch, but because the occupants were recently field dressed caribou destined for the spit and grill. We didn't even realize he was there, as the pungency of the carcasses and the aroma of the damp fur masked his stench. We were back at the encampment before he was discovered. At that point what could we do? Couldn't have him on the loose infecting the villagers. The next thing you know they'd be paving the fields and putting up shopping malls. If we followed our first impulse, then what? Leave the body out to poison the the scavengers? Bury him and pollute the land? Toss him in the fire and who knows what noxious fumes would result. That's how he wound up in the cage. He gets a few scraps and whatever small vermin wander within his reach until we decide his final destiny. His temporary usefulness in any tribal tiffs is just a lucky twist of fate.
Snip of incomplete tactics and strategy analysis... It neglected the part about how unprotected exposure to the Salesman turns your womenfolk into harlots, your sons into actors, your hounds into housecats, and your keeps into condos.
As you can see, this practice is barbaric and inhuman. Use of the J**p Salesman
has been
condemned by the International Court in the Hague and prohibited by article 27
paragraph 3
of the Geneva Convention. Yet the Knights continue to unleash this monstrous
weapon of
terror upon those who might offend them.
The Knights never signed onto this sissified pact!
This is why the Knights of the Iron Pigs remain unsanctioned. Indeed, they keep
the label
Renegade. I fear they wear it as a badge of pride, rather than the shame it
really is. But
we retain our faith and hope. We know that someday, the Knights will see the
light and
rejoin their Brothers and Sisters in Cruiserdom, and learn to settle their
grievances with
less powerful weapons (like hydrogen bombs or nerve gas).
Shame? Shame?! Shame is surrendering your sword without a fight. Shame is not knowing how to care for your steed. Shame is showing up at Cruise Moab in a Ford Exploder. Shame is getting stuck in your driveway 'cause of an inch of snow, or asking the List "Dude, what's the biggest tire I can put under my gnarly landcruiser?".
Renegade? Ha! We are a sanction unto ourselves. Somebody saddle up the Pig and bring me a bow. I need to unwind some. Maybe I'll take a ride over toward Chi-town for some pillaging.
I call upon the First Knight once again.
Mark (can I call you Mark?), please, stop the madness. Keep your Cruise
missiles, your
lawn doughnut parties. Keep even your Grizzly Bear Dung Bombs. But please, I
beseech you,
decommission the Salesman. Return him to his natural habitat in the city, where
he can
serve the needs of misguided yuppies.
Well, you could call Mark by that name, but not the First Knight (remember the psychosis bit...)
I guess the Salesman is a bit narrow in focus. And he really stinks up his cage. Mucking it out is the worst punishment duty that we have. Perhaps it is approaching the time to return him to the concrete canyons and asphalt wastelands from which he arose. Perhaps. But not quite yet. We have not perfected the Clueless Sister Inlaw yet. That one should be effective against non-believers as well.
Can't we all just get along?
Brother Andy
Sure we can. When everyone else agrees with us we'll get along just fine
Okay, enough of this I guess.
Mark...
_________________________
There was more of this back when the LCML was more active, but I figure this taste is probably more than enough for most.
Mark...
___________________
I have just returned from a pilgrimage to the mountain (one of them anyway)
And what do I find? I read the writings of those who should know better,
denigrating the noble ancestor of their overfed "comfortized" vehicles. An
FJ55 UGLY?!?! The true test of any prospective member of the brotherhood
MUST be the ability to see function over form. The FJ45 wagon was the first
model to take the Cruiser concept toward it's logical path. A real
utility/expedition/work vehicle, in the third world market for which the
Cruiser is designed, MUST have CAPACITY. While the FJ40 is a remarkable rig,
it is not overly blessed in this aspect. The '45 wagon was the simplest
approach to solving this. Simply stretch the '40. The '55 was the next
logical step, a Cruiser designed from the start as a four door, large
capacity rig. The '60 may have more rounded and
blended lines, but this adds nothing to function. And pure beauty is found
in pure function. There is nothing ugly about a factory PTO winch. There is
nothing ugly about 35s wearing tire chains. There is nothing ugly about a
5'x8' roof rack. These things are not graceful and rounded either. They are
purely and simply functional. Since I have returned and found myself
surrounded by unbelievers and borderline infidels, I am hereby declaring the
formation of the Knights of the Iron Pigs. Our divine mission will be to
defy those who would insult and defile the purity of the exalted FJ55. If
you chose to bounce around in an FJ40 and belittle the holy wagon, we will
submit your phone number to hungry j**p salesmen, and tell them you really
want one of those macho Wranglers so that you can climb the curbs at the
Sizzler parking lot. If your disrespect occurs while driving one of the
overweight offspring of the original Land Cruiser "Salon Car", our wrath
will be even greater. You will find the same aforementioned salesmen waiting
in your driveway, with a j**p grand crapokee, complete with unibody
construction, and totally pointless "aerodynamics package". The only
acceptable penance will be to load your vehicle with two weeks worth of food
and gear for a party of 4, and set out over rocks, bogs, hills and streams,
while repeating endlessly "Function Over Form, Function Over Form. The only
ugly Cruiser is the one which can't perform." If this is insufficient
persuasion, just insure that the next '55 you call ugly doesn't happen to
have 4 inch square tube bumpers at each end, and a smattering of boulder
bites. Ugly is as ugly does...
Mark... Self declared "First Knight of the Iron Pigs." Thou shalt know our wrath, and it shall be fearsome.
_________________________________
Does she wallow down the trail, ponderously floating across the bumps
that send '40 drivers to the chiropractor? Does she dig and churn her way
through a mudhole like she was born in one? Does she have less grace in
the tight spots than a 300 pound ballerina? Does she weigh more than a
pair of some other 4x4s? Is she faster than a stumbling drunk (but just
barely)? Are the corners simply "out over yonder somewhere" when you
undertake to rockcrawl with her?
If the answers to all of these questions are yes (and I'll bet they
are), then face it. Your Olga is a Pig. An Iron Pig of the best kind. Do
not misunderstand and feel that this is a slander. It is a mark of
pride. Join the Knights of the Iron Pig. We boldly (and slowly) go where
others wish to tread, while carrying the load of all expeditions. While
others rush to the cause, and defend the beauty of our steeds, you have
hung back and look to be forsaking the call. Do not join the
non-believers who have been lured by the temptation of form over
function. When we rise up and cry Jhiad, do not abandon your brethren.
Olga is a Pig. And she is proud to be one. Just ask her...
Mark...
Self Proclaimed First Knight of the Iron Pigs
_____________________________________
> Maxwell Balmain <mbalmain@accessone.com> writes:
> > There are a lot of new folks on this list(I guess I still qualify) I was
> > wandering if anyone could post a review of the Knights of Cruiserdom. Who
> > are these guys and how did they achieve such honored status? Being a
> > proud owner of a FJ55 I do know that Mark Whaltley is the First Knight of
> > the Ironpigs! Who are the other Knights??
>
> I think the knights are a renegade band, not sanctioned by Brother Andy or
> anyone else.
>
> Mark Whatley is the First Knight, but I don't think he's every knighted
> anybody. Knights must complete a quest I think. I know I've sought the
> grail, and discovered it several times. I don't know if there are any other
> knights.
Okay, time to skip my medication for a couple of doses and answer this...
In the days of olde, when the world was young (or the list was anyway) there
were many strange sects which worshiped the Cruiser Gods at their various
alters. But never mind all that, cause the Knights were never one of those
effete
sort of bands
I proclaimed myself First Knight, named the FJ55 as the Iron Pig, and founded
the Horde (well, my twisted alter ego did anyway) in response to an era of less
than proper attitudes toward our revered mount. A few irreverent knaves were
espousing feelings to the effect that the stalwart lines of the Pig were less
than pleasing to the eye, and that the longish hindquarters sacrificed more than
the carrying capacity made up for. They ridiculed the graceful wallow of the
boars. They doubted a Pig's right to travel the further reaches, and acted as if
Function was somehow less important than form! I stumbled across this travesty
upon a return from a trek through the wilderlands (okay, I spent a few days in
the field...). My rage knew no bounds (well I was a little miffed at least...).
Jihad was declared. A call was issued to those who treasure the truth of
Function over Form, to those who understand the nuances of our noble beast, and to those who just have a bad attitude toward their playmates. All who rally to our cause are, and forevermore will be known as the Knights of The Iron Pig. We accept no secular authority and recognize no rules of established behavior other than those which are thrashed out around the watch fire or on the field of battle. Our divine cause, set down straight from the Cruiser Gods themselves is to smite
those who shall belittle or denigrate the noble Pig, and to demonstrate the folly
of appearance without utility. Our most formidable foe is the dreaded Maximus
Ferrous Oxidious, but he also has our deepest respect, for he is among the few
who can fell a Knight and his steed. While we distain the pampered SUV driver,
our true disgust and antipathy is reserved for the Posuers of the Pavement.
Whilethe Cruiser Gods have set forth our mission, the battle against the Posuers is personal. If truth be told it is less of a battle than it is a duty to exterminate vermin and pests.
Along with our other formidable weapons, the Knights are the keepers of the
Caged Jeep Salesman, and the Clueless Yuppie Sister Inlaw, which are reseved for those occasional blood feuds and other minor misunderstandings with other followers of the Cruiser gods who might fail to see things in the correct light (any way but ours that is...). A broadsword is a fine settler of disputes, but nothing makes a point like laying was to your opponent's villages with a contagious jeep
salesman working on commission, or destroying their vehicles and their sanity with
a insipid yuppie bimbo.
Do not confuse the Horde with The Hoard. Trifle not with the Knights or our
heroic rides. Fear our wrath, for it shall be terrible... That might not be a
tornado that you sight on the horizon, but instead a troope of '55s coming to
root and rut in your fields and and storehouses, and tear down your gates and
watch towers.
>
> I have certainly been annointed with holy ninety-weight, I have been struck
> between the eyes by the grease turd of enlightenment, I have journeyed
> through the valley of the Rubicon. I nearly failed at Rubicon Springs, but
> returned at the darkest hour with a new steering box. I was cursed by
> Brother Andy for clubbing Karr's cruiser, yet I did return and was not
> struck down nor eaten by Buddy Dawg. Yea, verily.
>
> Sir Mark: I hereby submit a request for a quest. Or do the leather seats
> disqualify me?
>
> morgan
It does seem that you have misunderstood. While Brother Andy may withhold his
blessings from those that he does not deem worthy of the sects which seek his
favor, the Knights hold little with that practice. None shall tell use we are not
the Knights. And none need tell us that we are. If you share our quest, then you
share our name and our loyalty.
Do you think that a unibody is appropriate construction for a heavy duty off
road vehicle?
Do you think that a two speed transfer case is unnecessary?
Do you consider 31x10.50s large tires?
DO you consider BFG MTS to be an "extremely aggresive" tread pattern?
Do you consider a 5000 pound vehicle heavy?
Do you consider 4.11 gears steep?
Would you choose a rapier over a claymore?
Do you find the Iron Pig ungainly or ugly?
Can you haul all the gear and supplies that you need for extended travel far
from settled lands in a smaller rig?
Are boiled leather and iron studs better than chain mail and plate?
Do you feel that the way your rig looks is as important as the way it works?
Is more costly automatically better than less costly?
Is mass produced better than hand fabricated?
Your answers to these questions should give a good indication of whether or
not you can ride with the Knights. Here's a hint... it's the same answer for all of
them, and it starts with "N".
And BTW, leather seats most certainly do not disqualify you. Remember, Function
Over Form. Leather has to be just about the most function material to cover a
seat with that has been discovered or devised.
Stop waffling. Strap on your sword belt, grab your axe, mill your head, toss
on an Offy and an AFB and kick some Pavement Posuer butt. If you spy any greenies, smite them as well.
And don't forget you've got second watch tonight, so go light on the ale afterwards
The First Knight has spoken. Any objections out there?
_______________________
Andrew H. Litkowiak wrote:
Well, my Brethren,
When Mark goes off his meds, he really goes off his meds.
I would urge all shortie40 owners to exercise great caution when the First
Knight bleeds
all the thorazine out of his system. He has been known to resort to some
rather...extreme
measures when provoked.
Hey, ya gotta let the psychosis overwhelm the chemicals once in a while. Flex the muscles and let the blood flow (figuratively speaking that is... usually...). As as to "extreme". One man's extreme is another man's feeble. I mean, there are some folks out there who actually consider a cat 'o nine tails extreme for spanking children! Can you believe that?
Usually, the First Knight and his followers reserve their wrath for the
occupants of
lesser 4x4 vehicles (and the occasional Ford Escort). Their weapons are
fearsome. The
arsenal includes diesel powered cruise missiles, 55 sized lawn doughnut parties
and loads
of Alaskan peat bog. All this and more, aimed directly at any who look
cross-eyed at an
Iron Pig.
Unfortunately, these weapons are occasionally directed at the Brethren. Even
this would be
tolerable, (you shouldn't be insulting 55's) were it not for the ultimate
terror weapon.
It is employed against both Brethren and the unwashed masses. I refer, of
course, to the
J**p Salesman.
Actually a section of onagers is a heck of lot more intimidating than the cringing, drooling creature in the Cage.
The use of the salesman shows us the true nature of the Knights. It is the
ultimate act of
barbarism, employed against civilized Cruiser owners. Those who would scoff,
take heed!
This is no idle threat. I have performed the sad task of counseling the
families of the
pathetic remnants of once proud Brethren victimized by this evil practice.
The beauty of the Salesman is not so much his effectiveness, but rather his unique suitability for use against those who worship the true gods. Face it, what would be the point of using such a foul creature on a non-believer who actually enjoys driving a j**p?
The J**p Salesman's origins were shrouded in mystery, but I have meticulously
reconstructed the events that lead to his appearance in the arsenal of the
Knights. The
Salesman was once the top J**p seller for the entire United States, 3 years in
a row. This
man personally sold 450 J**ps per year. He was the ultimate fanatic, totally
dedicated,
relentless, unstoppable.
Anyway, he was vacationing in the great State of Alaska one fine summer (usually the
second and third week of July). Traveling at high speed in his Grand ChuckeeCheese, he hit
a gopher. Needless to say, the J**p was totaled. The Salesman was gravely injured, near
death. Fortunately (or unfortunately) Mark Whatley happened along the accident site. In
true Alaskan fashion, he stopped to render what aid he could.
For the record, Mark and the First Knight may occasionally occupy the same space, but they are not the same person. Never forget this
First, he freed the gopher from the wreckage. Ascertaining that the gopher was
just a
little shaken up, Mark then rendered aid to the Salesman. Or was about to, when
he spotted
the sales awards and other J**p literature strewn among the wreckage. It was at
this point
that Mark spawned his evil plan.
Actually the dogs got to the squirrel before I did
May he rest in peace.Instead of transporting the grievously wounded Salesman to the nearest clinic,
Mark hauled
him to the Knights compound and nursed him back to health, after a fashion. The
Salesman's
head injuries left him in a state of partial amnesia. He retained his
fanaticism, but lost
his identity. He was left with naught but the overwhelming drive to sell J**ps.
The First
Knight carefully molded his weapon. And when he was physically healed, he was
ready.
Well we didn't really rescue him. While we were shoving the wreck into the ditch and out of the way, the "salesman" slimed his way into one of the wagons to try and sell a gagoneer to the occupants. What he failed to realize was that oh so familiar blank stare that he elicited was not due to the enthrallment of his pitch, but because the occupants were recently field dressed caribou destined for the spit and grill. We didn't even realize he was there, as the pungency of the carcasses and the aroma of the damp fur masked his stench. We were back at the encampment before he was discovered. At that point what could we do? Couldn't have him on the loose infecting the villagers. The next thing you know they'd be paving the fields and putting up shopping malls. If we followed our first impulse, then what? Leave the body out to poison the the scavengers? Bury him and pollute the land? Toss him in the fire and who knows what noxious fumes would result. That's how he wound up in the cage. He gets a few scraps and whatever small vermin wander within his reach until we decide his final destiny. His temporary usefulness in any tribal tiffs is just a lucky twist of fate.
Snip of incomplete tactics and strategy analysis... It neglected the part about how unprotected exposure to the Salesman turns your womenfolk into harlots, your sons into actors, your hounds into housecats, and your keeps into condos.
As you can see, this practice is barbaric and inhuman. Use of the J**p Salesman
has been
condemned by the International Court in the Hague and prohibited by article 27
paragraph 3
of the Geneva Convention. Yet the Knights continue to unleash this monstrous
weapon of
terror upon those who might offend them.
The Knights never signed onto this sissified pact!
This is why the Knights of the Iron Pigs remain unsanctioned. Indeed, they keep
the label
Renegade. I fear they wear it as a badge of pride, rather than the shame it
really is. But
we retain our faith and hope. We know that someday, the Knights will see the
light and
rejoin their Brothers and Sisters in Cruiserdom, and learn to settle their
grievances with
less powerful weapons (like hydrogen bombs or nerve gas).
Shame? Shame?! Shame is surrendering your sword without a fight. Shame is not knowing how to care for your steed. Shame is showing up at Cruise Moab in a Ford Exploder. Shame is getting stuck in your driveway 'cause of an inch of snow, or asking the List "Dude, what's the biggest tire I can put under my gnarly landcruiser?".
Renegade? Ha! We are a sanction unto ourselves. Somebody saddle up the Pig and bring me a bow. I need to unwind some. Maybe I'll take a ride over toward Chi-town for some pillaging.
I call upon the First Knight once again.
Mark (can I call you Mark?), please, stop the madness. Keep your Cruise
missiles, your
lawn doughnut parties. Keep even your Grizzly Bear Dung Bombs. But please, I
beseech you,
decommission the Salesman. Return him to his natural habitat in the city, where
he can
serve the needs of misguided yuppies.
Well, you could call Mark by that name, but not the First Knight (remember the psychosis bit...)
I guess the Salesman is a bit narrow in focus. And he really stinks up his cage. Mucking it out is the worst punishment duty that we have. Perhaps it is approaching the time to return him to the concrete canyons and asphalt wastelands from which he arose. Perhaps. But not quite yet. We have not perfected the Clueless Sister Inlaw yet. That one should be effective against non-believers as well.
Can't we all just get along?
Brother Andy
Sure we can. When everyone else agrees with us we'll get along just fine
Okay, enough of this I guess.
Mark...
_________________________
There was more of this back when the LCML was more active, but I figure this taste is probably more than enough for most.
Mark...
mark take your meds
great writings
great writings
how bout "dirt monkey"?
wow.. old school...
What happens if I say "The iron pig is ugly"? ;p
- it changes your attitude. More meds.... more meds.....
- it changes your attitude. More meds.... more meds.....
you may sign your own death warrentWhat happens if I say "The iron pig is ugly"? ;p
iron pigs rock
i heard about the term "iron pig" in an issue of tlca.org's magazine. i thought it was too appropo considering the way they look. i remembered first seeing an fj55 in aspen and i thought it was the coolest damn thing i'd ever seen. my buddy (at the time) said he thought it was hideous. my ex-buddy is, of course, a jeep jerkoff. he's no longer my buddy for a number of reasons, but the fj55 comment is just one more...
i heard about the term "iron pig" in an issue of tlca.org's magazine. i thought it was too appropo considering the way they look. i remembered first seeing an fj55 in aspen and i thought it was the coolest damn thing i'd ever seen. my buddy (at the time) said he thought it was hideous. my ex-buddy is, of course, a jeep jerkoff. he's no longer my buddy for a number of reasons, but the fj55 comment is just one more...
pismojim
the Dude abides...
Not so fast!
I think 60s are just now coming into their own. Why?
First, so many people are wheeling 80 Series. I find myself telling prospective 60 owners to seriously consider an 80 Series. Basically, the 80 Series is better in every way. That's why we see more and more 80s on the trail, expeditions or, god forbid, the highway.
Second, it's getting harder and harder to find decent 40s. The clean ones are being kept clean and the beat ones are well beat. The same goes for 55s but even more so.
Sooooo, 80s are dime a dozen and they all look the same with their ARB bumpers, snorkels, etc. 40 and 55 are great if you can find one but we shouldn't have to buy cruisers on E-bay.
The way I see it 60s are coming into their own. It's a quirky, often overlooked, model that can do it all (so some degree).
When talking about the age of Baby Boomers they say 50 is the new 40. I'm suggesting 60s are the new 40s.
So, as far as naming the series, don't rule it out yet.
Lets keep those nicknames coming.
Jim-
I agree with your view of the 60 series as coming into their own. Don't get me wrong, I love the 60's and don't see myself tiring of it and going to an 80. There are still quite a few good ones around but not enough to be considered plentiful. IMHO, the 60 series is the last Land Cruiser with character.
I just doubt a nickname can be created by brainstorming. I've been wrong before and will sit back and see what develops while sticking to my belief.
I agree with your view of the 60 series as coming into their own. Don't get me wrong, I love the 60's and don't see myself tiring of it and going to an 80. There are still quite a few good ones around but not enough to be considered plentiful. IMHO, the 60 series is the last Land Cruiser with character.
I just doubt a nickname can be created by brainstorming. I've been wrong before and will sit back and see what develops while sticking to my belief.
X2. Mine both have names and slang terms.
Works for me, too.
Works for me, too.
The Blue One ('84 60), The Green One ('81 40), The other green one ('89 Saab), The White one ('89 Saab), The Stripe ('58 Stude P/U), and a snowplow Chevy P/U, a Saab parts car, and a Volusia. Sounds kinda like a used car dealership, to me, I must have some kind of illness.
Works for me, too.
The Blue One ('84 60), The Green One ('81 40), The other green one ('89 Saab), The White one ('89 Saab), The Stripe ('58 Stude P/U), and a snowplow Chevy P/U, a Saab parts car, and a Volusia. Sounds kinda like a used car dealership, to me, I must have some kind of illness.
I beseech thee dear brethren, that we continue the quest for a name for our beloved steeds, just as those who came before us saddled up the iron pigs and gallantly rode into battle against the blasphemous jeepers, we must be prepared to do the same. I would personally endorse our own renegade band of ne'er do-gooders, The brotherhood of the 60. We are what other cruisers are not. We are more civilized then the 55, but do not require the leather seats and cushy suspension of the 80s. We can refine the tactics learned from the knights of the iron pig, learn from their successes and their failures, apply them to the new battle and commence forth on our eternal expeditions for honor, hope, and understanding. Ok screw hope and understanding those are jeep principles but I think I've made my point.
"The Money Pit"
Some of my friends refer to my 55 as the LEAD SLED. I give permission for transference....there's only enough room for the pork
Maybe someone needs to go Japanese and see what the word is for "rising sun" or something (since it's "just coming into it's own"), although it will probably be some sort of untypable stick figure...
Maybe someone needs to go Japanese and see what the word is for "rising sun" or something (since it's "just coming into it's own"), although it will probably be some sort of untypable stick figure...
The Iron Pig is beautiful. Do 40s have a nickname?
The side vents on the 60 (US version) remind me of a fish but no slow, heavy fish or sharks come to mind. Mine is blue so that may have something to do with it too. I might change and call mine The Iron Smurf. Lead Sled has a nice ring to it. Wheelin' Wagon.
The Iron Mule.
Is that one already taken? I can't remember.
The side vents on the 60 (US version) remind me of a fish but no slow, heavy fish or sharks come to mind. Mine is blue so that may have something to do with it too. I might change and call mine The Iron Smurf. Lead Sled has a nice ring to it. Wheelin' Wagon.
The Iron Mule.
Is that one already taken? I can't remember.
