On a recent spring evening, I successfully crossed the street. Then, a green automobile -- accelerating at a moderate speed, driver unseen -- passed through the exact spot my body had occupied seconds earlier.
I immediately realized that I was a selfish jerk for not allowing that particular car to mow me down, and I owe the human race an apology. Why's that? Let's run the scenario:
#1. It is that same spring evening. But this time, I unsuccessfully cross the street. My body freezes in the grip of history. And although the green automobile is going maybe 20 miles per hour, I am struck at such a violent angle that my skull rockets off like a champagne cork, spritzing the asphalt with a Mephistophelian froth.
This is the car who committed vehicular Dim Mak:
Yes, there really walks among us a real adult who spent his disposable income on a gargantuan DEEZ NUTS window decal. And in a better world, his car murdered the shit out of me.
#2. The police and press descend upon the lasagna that was once my body. I was jaywalking, so DEEZ NUTS gets off scot-free. My family and friends are sad, but even they can't keep their shiva together when my demise makes the front page of my local rag, the New York Post.
"According to sources, the motorist's child is an honor student at Deez Nuts Elementary."
#3. My death goes viral. BuzzFeed, the Huffington Post, and the Daily Mail all misspell my name. Slate or Salon runs a long-form think piece tut-tutting the Post's newsroom of ghouls and bone worms. Mystifying Photoshops of the Post's cover are splayed across Tumblr, where DEEZ NUTS is overwhelmingly piloted by a My Little Pony or Doctor Who. Someone writes a fan fiction about me having sex with the car. But my name confuses the author, too, and I am posthumously depicted as a voluptuous gymnast whose gold-medal ass refuses to quit.
Several thousand people secretly masturbate to the story. The Internet is at peace.
#4. Meanwhile, here at Cracked, the mood is equally celebratory, as my grisly doom gives a co-worker further fodder for a sequel to a popular column. He spends his bonus check on a motorcycle shaped like the Predator.
Flickr/Lee Lilly/Creative Commons
"What? He would've wanted it this way."
#5. Me and DEEZ NUTZ become a national conversation. CNN, MSN, and the Nashville Network pile on my headless corpse like it was a clown car. I'm mentioned on The McLaughlin Group in the context of pedestrian safety laws. Pat Buchanan says DEEZ NUTS 487 times in a span of 30 minutes.
#6. Concerned citizens -- thirsty for grassroots engagement but oblivious to absolutely everything -- plaster neighborhoods with fliers depicting "DEEZ NUTS The Safety Squirrel," a rodent who entreats children to look both ways using his Filbert of Wisdom and Macadamia of Street Smarts.
This mascot becomes short-lived when lawyers notice he resembles McGruff the Crime Dog emitting a sizable cloud of diarrhea.
#7. But the Tree of Knowledge will not be overshadowed by the Kudzu of Ignorance. Terry Gross devotes an entire episode of Fresh Air to the etymology of DEEZ NUTS. She reminds the public that the phrase was popularized by that old guy who makes the headphones, not smug and shitty 11-year-olds playing Halo.
"Who's Dr. Dre?"
"He was in N.W.A."
"Those were Dre's friends before he met Eminem."
"Uh, your dad's Macklemore."
#8. My tale of woe fans across the international news wires. In Munich, Salzburg, and Bern, DIESE NUESSE are on the tip of every tongue. In Abidjan, Vientiane, and Toulouse, people walk with a little more pep in their step, silently grateful that they were not that poor schmo who got mowed down by la testicule-voiture.