Music. The comedy4cast network. Let's dog ear that for now.
Oh, hi! You're here. Let's get started! This is comedy4cast, episode 768, Odds and Ends, Frank Talk About the Road. Brought
to you by the amazing comedy4cast Patreon Patrons. Thank you! More about that after the show.
Well, it's time to check out my mind and see what's bouncing around in there. What's
bouncing the highest lately is car stuff. Could that be because my car battery died a few weeks
ago? Yeah, it could be. Of course, the idea that a battery can pass away is an odd thing by itself,
isn't it? And when you look at it that way, we're the ones that killed them. Well,
either that or we keep recharging them like Frankenstein trying to hotwire his monster.
Drat! Only 60% charged!
Try reversing the polarity.
That always seems to work. But where was I? Or more importantly, where was my mind? Oh right, cars.
See this one got me the other day. It was a car commercial where they weren't very careful about what they said.
It was just a commercial for, well, let's call it, Moyota. The woman in the ad exclaimed,
imagine yourself in a new Moyota. So I did. I imagined myself right there in the driver's seat of a Moyota Coyola, cruising down the highway, window rolled
down, radio blasting at a volume that filled
the car but yet was not overly intrusive to the general environment, you understand. There are rules. Then I imagined looking in the rear-view
mirror and seeing some flashing lights. I imagined myself being pulled over by a
police officer because apparently I hadn't thought about imagining license
plates on the car. I'm sorry officer I was just trying to imagine myself in a
new Moyota. Uh-huh. The imaginary officer replied. Can I see your license and
registration? I don't have any. You see the thing is this isn't my car. Whose car
is it? I'm not sure. See this woman on TV said to imagine myself in a new
Moyota. A woman on TV? Yes and well here I am. Then I imagined myself not to being
behind the wheel of a Moyota, but sitting in a jail cell for auto theft.
Thanks, Moyota.
Which brings me to this odd news story about not choosing words wisely when it comes to transportation.
It seems we've said goodbye to that oversized, traveling road sausage, the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile. Oh, don't worry.
If you're a fan of that street-legal knockwurst wagon, it's still around.
But it's no longer the Wienermobile. It's now the Oscar Mayer Frankmobile!
Yeah, I know. Why the change? The first since the Wiener Wagon arrived on the scene in 1936, by the way.
Well, apparently Oscar Mayer has changed the recipe for their hot dogs.
And that's the first time that's happened in...
Six years! Yeah, I know.
According to the press release, this new formula has a more balanced flavor profile
with iconic beefy taste that is more delicious than ever.
Which translates as, it tastes the same, but different.
Anyway, now when you see one of the six internal combustion foot-long meat wagons
rolling down your street,
your first thought will clearly be, Hey, that semi-suggestive condiment-loving coach
reminds me of the new recipe for Oscar Mayer's iconic all-beef franks.
And clearly not Wienermobile. Oh, and in case you're wondering, which I'm sure you were, the people that drive the vehicle
around used to be called hot-doggers, which seems pretty darn cool to me.
Now, now, they'll be known as... Frankfurters!
Yeah, I know. And all this talk about cars and weenie Frankmobiles roaming the highways and byways of America
started another thing bouncing around inside my mind.
Markings on the road.
And not just any markings, although, wait, side note, CAPTCHA,
I'm getting tired of identifying pedestrian crossings for you.
They're not that hard to understand.
Move on.
Now, okay, I was talking about a very particular marking that sometimes shows up when you're coming to an intersection.
It's just one word in big, screamin', all-cap intensity.
ONLY. And that immediately sets off my mind.
Only? Only what? Only in theaters?
Only fans? Only murders in the building? Only the good die young?
The suspense is killing me!
Which is probably not the reaction you want to get from a highway marking.
It turns out that this word is just the first half of a special message.
One that will tell me if the lane I'm in is only for going straight ahead. Or only a left turn.
Or only a right-hand turn. Whichever it is, my mind assures me that I'm in the wrong lane. Or am I?
I don't know, because now that only has my full attention, the other part of the message,
the big yellow arrow that tells me which only lane I'm in, is underneath that car in front of me.
Should I stay in this lane? Swerve right?
Left? Up? Just park here and walk? I don't know. My mind tells me the logical thing to do.
Go slower.
And slower, hoping that the traffic will move before I catch up.
Why isn't the arrow first? That's the part I need to know.
Is it because they want to catch my attention? Hey look, I think a giant arrow pointing in a direction I don't want to go
would do that job just fine all by itself.
Eventually the car ahead of me moves and I finally get to see the arrow.
Yep, wrong lane and no time to switch.
Ah, looks like I'm getting on the highway headed for Canada.
I wonder if they have intersections with giant letters that say, SOULEMENT.
See, that's French for only, and I have to get my passport in order.
I'll talk to you again next time.
My goodness, look at the time. Let's wrap this up, shall we?
Right you are, Sir Patrick. But first, a shout-out to our Patreon patrons.
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All one word with the number four.
Thank you. As always, this is Sir Patrick Stewart. And I'm Clinton.
Saying, that's it. We're done, done, done, done, done, done.
Bye-bye.
Or should I say au revoir?
Canadian National Anthem plays.