The BH

Last Wednesday I had occasion to be in Beverly Hills. I overheard a man say to another man, "The biggest mistake I made was putting her on the deed to my house," other man says something indistinct, first man says back, "I can't. Not until I divorce her."

I also saw a Lamborghini drive by. It was very loud and sounded bad, like it needed a tune-up. It was probably just semi-defective in that way ridiculously expensive things can be. Ridiculousness seems to be the central concept to cars like that, unless you are driving on windy Swiss mountain roads or something.

When I was a kid, the Lamborghini Countach was one of those things my brother thought was cool, so I did too. The fanciness of the name (mysterious and unnecessary vowels!) added this unknowable, untouchable coolness to the whole idea of the thing. Not unlike Sudan Coulior, the ski run so steep you could hit your head on a mougul. When my brother skiied down Sudan as a teenager it was a feat of extreme coolness not unlike driving a Lamborghini. When he reported that the sign said "Sudan Coulior, Experts Only" with a smaller font coda: "Tighten Your Schpincter", the coolness and the ridiculouslessness got bundled up into such delightful mash.

Like fluorescent zinc oxide on your nose or jams, I feel like 80s notions of coolness are inexplicably silly in this way. Cf: Breakin' and Breakin' 2: The Electric Boogaloo. It was like a light-hearted precuser to what would later turn into grunge and then just sheer, cold irony.

So I salute you, riduculously wealthy driver of ridiculous, crappy-sounding car! Raise the goblet of ridiculosity high! It's so much more fun that disconnected irony!