Today I discovered the worst feature of my [that new car smell|new] [Honda Civic|car]. [Can You Picture That|Picture this]. I had just been cut off. I was in a fit of rightful rage. In anger and spite I raise up my hand and slam it down upon the center of my steering wheel. I am [Road rage|anger]; hear me ROAR!

[kick my ass, please|eemp?]

[What the fuck is this shit?|HUH?] What the hell was that? Surely that did not come out of my sleek, styling, [Grr...I'm angsty|black] car? I mean, I didn't expect the magnitude you would get with an 18 wheeler I-eat-import-cars-for-breakfast type horn. But...[wimp|eemp?]? That...that can't be right. Hell, my old Saturn, which I admit is not the most manly of vehicles, had a better horn than that. Later, [I Think We're Alone Now|discreetly], I tested the horn again.

[Birdman Kicked My Ass|eemp?]

[Oh woe is me|Oh the agony]! [Damn the man|Oh the shame]! My horn is a sound byte from a stepped on mouse! Then my mind started turning. [Are you pondering what I'm pondering?|Wheels began to grind]. Smoke...I had smoke from the ears. If folks are willing to pay [yellow rat bastard|80 bucks for floor mats]...hrm...what about the upgrade on the horn? You could have different price points...the bigger, the badder the horn, the more bucks your gonna shell out. Now I just have to decide if I want to pitch my improved horns directly to [new car options|the car dealer], or those car folks who sell the [tasteless|neon lights that go in the wheels]. I'm gonna be [You can never be too rich or too thin|rich] I tell you. [Rich Uncle Pennybags|Rich].

November 25, 2002 (idea)