Rust orange is the worst color.

You've obviously never watched "The Dukes of Hazzard".

Among car afficionados that collect Chip Foose drawings, its a considered not terribly behind the '68, even in rust orange. It does need the vinyl roof to clean up the clunky rear pillar.

That said, its no Lotus Elan (preferably with Emma Peel in the other seat).

I dunno. Buttresses are a pretty cool feature, especially on such a clunky car. It makes the Elan look like a bland little thing.

Also rust orange hides the actual rust.

The buttresses were put there in the concept phase when they were going to make it mid-engined, but they changed their minds and just left them there.

I'd buy a car named that, no questions asked

It's the American way.

Maybe the first girl was just for meaningless fornication too, mister judgmental!

Well that is a good point FABIO, but even so he should remember who kept his dick wet for 4 years before he got the Charger.

Maybe he had just picked her up 5 minutes ago with his magnetic Charger and she's as shallow a whore as the rest of them!

God why do you always assume the worst from people!

He developed three years of blue balls trying to get to first base with that cunt. Elliot should have stomped on the gas and covered that cock tease with sand.

...and that car is very much not fugly...

did you see that dress she was wearing? looked like a bag. she clearly deserved to be left behind like the frigid ice queen she was.

Charles Grodin?

I mention that not merely out of an admitted obsession with decay, but because the day is closing in when icons of several generations past cannot be distinguished by their dated fashion or low-res low-fi production from current ones.

Somewhere around 1985-1990 is the cutoff, I think, where (then) sophisticated production and (presuming current trends) accepted diversity and historical borrowings in fashion/hair etc will make the past of the elderly no less attractive than the present of the young. People around now may be the last who live primarily in a pop-cultural present.

This video doesn't deserve much thought. But short windo around 1965-1974 were when practical fashion and social mores saw a lot of the present limits attained or surpassed. My generation, I can confidently say, has consigned itself to being an afterthought in the chronological parade.

You're hired.

Obv: "a short window around" I'm not that hungover, even this New Year's Day. Catch me after triple witching hours if want/expect that.

That was a lot of words to say absolutely nothing.

Nothing new, granted. But Louise Brooks masturbation is a niche phenomenon, Kylie Minogue masturbation won't be.

And till the late 80s, you had to be serious film student to have access to images of Hedy Lamarr at will. It just seems weird being turned on by people now on Social Security, thats all.

I believe what godot is talking about has been summed up already: http://www.73q.com/video.php?vid=72566

Whatever the hell it is, I hope he goes all out rambling with it, its actually amusing me more than the video itself, which its self is a pretty amusing video.

Nothing all that odd. Falling in love with photographs (mind you, these lasses, while attractive, aren't my type) has undoubtedly occurred for 150 years. Only a amall bit of lubrication accounted for excess extrapolation. Just assume current trends continue, and its easy to imagine a world in which the majority of ones's fixations are to dead people.

Why this video (in particular) set me off to make what are fairly banal observations is one for the forensic psychologists. Maybe I really do need a muscle car for full self-actualization.

If the 1970 Charger is "fugly," then I assume that the right hand of God Himself is also "fugly."

Those things were more than badass-looking. They sucked down the gasoline like baby's milk, but made up for it with pure gunpowder under the hood. Everything's injected these days and revs smoothly, which is good, but a certain special something happened when the extra carb barrels opened and the beast decided to go somewhere. Get a little happy with the throttle and the acceleration would tear your head off. The brakes didn't match the engine and you didn't want to go around any corners, but stoplight-to-stoplight was out of this world.

Strangely, I now want a cheeseburger.

People sure are opinionated about cars.