Kyle Busch is the bratty braniac in the back of the classroom, the one who knows he’s smarter and better than all the other kids put together. He seethes whenever another kid gets credit for anything and is infuriated when the credit is amplified to the level of acclaim, for he believes he and he alone . . . → Read More: Thoughts From Late At Night On A Day Of Racing
|
|||||
|
Kyle Busch is the Maxim magazine of NASCAR. A big talker; a showy peacock prancing and preening as one claiming to be the real deal, a rough ‘n tumble hardcore rebel. Yet when it comes time to actually show something, like Maxim’s photo shoots he reveals nothing. Because he has nothing. Busch’s superbrat act reached new heights (or . . . → Read More: Kyle Busch, The Psuedo Porn Star What is Kyle Busch’s problem? Seriously. What is Kyle Busch’s problem? His latest tirade against Dale Earnhardt Jr. is the stuff of which studies in petulance are made. Whether it’s a deliberate attempt to reinforce his bad boy image or sniping on the level of a jilted former boyfriend dissing his replacement, Busch continues to embarrass no one . . . → Read More: Bozos With Bees Up Their Butts Every parent worth their stay out of the cookie jar admonitions teaches, or at least attempts to teach, their children that with opportunity comes advisability. Seldom as obvious, and one hundred and one out of one hundred times nowhere near the fun level of opportunity, but present nonetheless. Can you do something? Yes. Should you do . . . → Read More: Kyle Busch And The Case Of The Mysterious Missing Elevator |
 |
||||
|
Copyright © 2010 The Diecast Dude's (Mostly) NASCAR Blah Blah Blog - All Rights Reserved |
|||||
