Daily archives: February 29, 2008

Urban Collectables

A range of stolen, joyridden and crashed toy cars to add a little gritty realism to your collection.

Each Urban Collectable car is completely unique and has been individually hand burnt. The range includes The Joy ridden 2-door Hatchback, The Mini Van/Insurance Scam and The Petrol Bombed Jeep.

via Jalopnik

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Des Res?

A recurring joke over the last few weeks has been an idea to take advantage of the tanking dollar and the crashing US house prices due to the whole sub-prime disaster and buy a house in America. Not a serious thought, but you can get properties in Detroit from $100. Many of them look like they’ve been burnt out, there’s no telling what the structure would be like and you might have to put up with occasional gunplay in the street, but it’s still a house for fifty quid.

If you want to spend a little more ($1,450) you could have this nice lakeside duplex– “# RV/boat parking # Interior features may include: Basement, Carpet, Wood flrs”

$5,000 will get you this property, which needs a bit of “sweat equity” invested to make it a dream home. “Sweat equity” is my phrase of the day.

If you think big, $30,000 will get you a two bed apartment with lake views and direct marina access.

The question is, is there a nice, safe part of Detroit to live in?

via Telegraph blogs

The Legend of the Mall Ninja

This is the internet’s must have link today. So far I’ve seen it on BoingBoing and William Gibson’s blog. From there it’ll go everywhere. Like here, for instance.

The legend of the Mall Ninja- ninjitsu trained, heavily armed, long gun owning, former special ops assassins keeping America’s shopping malls, and the anal virginiy of the young boys who frequent them, safe.

But then again I think of the mayors nephew, his face distored with tears and terror, the GAP employees who asked for my autograph, and had to settle for a cover identity’s signature, the flashbangs, and their acrid scent, the small of napalm in the evening breeze, as I crouch behind a shopping cart in the parking lot, the target practice with my dearest comrades and friends, the members of my teams, and our live fire exercises-Can I leave it all behind? should I?

Or is my life better spent as the silent, alert, stalwart, invisible guardian of the free mall.

I cannot tell.

The scary thing is, before they descend into name calling and extreme delusion the ramblings of Gecko45 and SPECOPS sound uncannily like the editorial line of the imported gun magazines I used to read.