This Brian Williams Stuff Is Making Me Fess Up About All My Car-Lies

With Brian William's reputation and career in a tailspin thanks to some not-so-accurate tales of derring-do and helicopter attacks, I've realized that I'd better get ahead of my long history of self-aggrandizing lies before I get found out and disgraced. So, in the interest of salvaging my career, I'm coming clean.


The admissions here are not in any particular order beyond what I can recall off the top of my head. And, of course, I beg forgiveness from you, my dear, loyal, and often disturbingly sexy readers.

Deep breath. Okay. Let's do this:

1. I never rescued Natalie Portman from attack by fighting off ruffians with the dipstick from my Beetle, brandished like a stubby fencing foil.

2. I didn't "invent the modern turbocharger in my basement." I don't even have a basement.

3. The three-way between myself, famed drag racer Shirley Muldowney, and the ghost of Tatra designer Hans Ledwinka never happened.


4. I've never won the Indy 500. The trophy shown at the press conference was a laundry basket inverted and covered in tinfoil. The sculpted faces were made of silver-spray painted chewing gum.

5. I was never called by the FBI to identify cars of criminals by smelling for exhaust traces in jars of air from the crime scene. I can not identify cars by their exhaust smell at all.


6. I never drove a Peugeot 504 through "an elephant rave."

7. No carmaker pays me royalties for the development of the folding armrest, adjustable-diameter cupholder, or the yet-to-be-implemented side window wipers.


8. I am not a "time pirate" who has lived as one or both of the Dodge Brothers, Giorgetto Giugiaro, Jackie Stewart, or Mercedes Jellinek, the little girl for whom Mercedes-Benz is named.

9. I cannot "communicate with cars via the spiritual practice of attaching jumper cables to my genitals" as claimed in several car reviews.


10. I did not launch a shoulder-fired missile at any helicopter Brian Williams was in. The newsperson in question was in fact Connie Chung.

Whew. Okay. Sure feels good to get all that off my chest; thanks so much for understanding, and I promise not to do it ever again.

Share This Story