National Nitwit

Guest editorial by William Paxson

You see them at every Seven-11 and Stop-n-Rob on the summer weekends, those chipper little tarts in their short shorts with their perky, almost-popping out breasts, beckoning you to wash your car to raise money for their cheerleading team.

I fall for that pitch every time, and I just have to say that cheerleaders are terrible at cleaning automobiles.

This last "Rah-Rah-Siss-Boom-Bah!" Central High car wash was the worst. I even stayed in my car so they would know I was keeping an eye on them as they soaped up my sleek new Cadillac, bra-less and carefree as they splashed in the sun and missed those spots of road tar on my door.

Left: A little more elbow grease, please

I tell them every time to bend down and look at the spots that they missed, just look at them!

Yet they still miss dirt that is plain as day. I don't like dirt on my machine, you know. Gotta have my ride gleaming in the sun, like a rocket poised to blast off into the stratosphere.

And I hear them out there laughing at me, an old man driving an old man's car. Let me tell you - I could show them a thing or two in the boudoir , yes sir. I was quite the tomcat in my day, and I can still show a lady a good time, if you know what I mean.

Not that they would care. They can't even clean the bird crap off the middle of the windshield as their knockers press down against the glass, soft wet flesh pushing upwards out of their tube tops as their tight shorts get squirted by another girl grabbing the rinse hose, water dripping all over the ground.

Cheerleaders are just terrible at washing cars. I hope that the coaches of next year's team will spend a few minutes teaching some basic cleaning techniques, or I will take my business to those little vixens at Eastern High School.