I’m so happy, I think I’ll flip a car!
Won’t you help me? I must use car-flipping to demonstrate my delight!
Let’s see. This car here. Is it in a natural, roof-on-top position? CHECK! Now, let us make it so this automobile is festively upside down!
You and your lady friend with the half-closed eyes overcome by hysteria and hair glitter. Both of you, help me flip this car!
And there, that man hopping and saying “Woooo.” The one wearing no shirt, no shirt at all. I am positive he would want to be in on this car-flipping.
I see, through blissful tears, a woman near the curb. Her hair as big and beautiful as my bursting heart; her baby hastily bundled in team colors for this freezing midnight near-riot. I put it to you that each would equally cherish the spectacle of a Nissan Sentra going tires up.
I must now echo the shirtless: Woooo!
We require more assistance, as this is not only a difficult physical task but it is one that will prove a turning point, a milestone, a measuring stick in countless lives. How about that young man there in the street whose painted nipples are as bold as his misdirected sense of pride? Indeed!
Oh, car—oh, comrades—our proceedings this day are extraordinary!
I shall wait for you to pour that beverage over your head. Done? Onward!