Only a pragmatist could love a Porsche, pure and simple. Some are born so pragmatic that even as a small boy, a Lamborghini or a Ferrari is just not practical enough. In the words of Jeremy Clarkson in his Top Gear editorial, Porsches are for people who were caught masturbating as children. Well to elaborate those with far too much shame that were caught masturbating as children. Thank you Mr Clarkson.
There’s an even worse kind of person. Those that justify any awfulness, say the new (or any) Nickelback CD with “well they’ve sold millions of CDs so someone likes them”. As if to say any kind of mediocrity can be justified with popularity and a blinding dose of pragmatism. If the title of this blog hasn’t left you wondering, I’m not one of those people. I don’t like medicore pop masquerading as rock, and I have been caught in the act enough times to simply smile and think of England.
Even as a small child, I never liked Porsches. Not when my uncle came back from Targa Tasmania (as a navigator), describing them as ‘porches’ that mostly ended up in the ditches and ravines of Tasmania because of the inept accountants driving them. For the record, I’ve tried to like Audis. But there’s an A4 brochure on my desk that is so boring it makes me want to cause self harm with the sharp cardboard pages. Only Audi could make 18″ wheels mind numbingly, Nickelback-latest-single, arsebleedingly boring. Boring enough to make me glad I didn’t become a CPA or go through med school and work in IT after all.
Germans being Germans though, Audi can’t hold a candle to Porsche. Because with their Porsche configurator (find the ‘build your Porsche’ link on the front page), they burn the German anally retentive candle at both ends in a reckless display of specification autism. With the clinical precision of a surgeon, you can select from 17 exterior colours. All of them selected by your mum to match your underwear in case you do crash it (and you will because you’re a bloody dentist) so you look respectible as the ambos pull you out of a ditch. They’re about as screamy and bombastic as Bill Gates with a seven three part in his hair held back with Brylcream.
Fortunately for Porsche fans, the mothering doesn’t stop there. If option b doesn’t go with option a (and yes Porsche fans, I know they’re in the wrong order) a mummy message pops up demanding you make a more appropriate selection – immediately. Once you’ve spec’d your dream car, spending more on options than you do the car as all Germans cars require, the final step reads ‘notification’. What it really means is ‘quick call your mum and make sure she’s OK with it first. Those options might take someone’s eye out!’. Then mazel tov baby, your new Porsche is here!
Honestly except for keeping half of KPMG and PriceWaterHouseCoopers aroused, this is the most pointless waste of bandwidth ever since the Australian Commonwealth Internet Public Toilet Finder. It has only accomplished one thing – despite Porsche winning over James May, Richard Hammond, even Jay K from Jamiroquai, I’ve never had more resolve to loathe Porsches. They are for people who have no real measure of success other than the status quo, so as not to offend anyone.
There is however one thing the configurator is good for. If you ever induldge in amphetamines, next time instead of binging on Sudoku or crossword puzzles, or obscessively cleaning, configure your Porsche! Guaranteed 12 teeth grinding hours later, you would have found every permutation of the most pragmatic, miss-the-point supercar on earth. At least it will keep nasty speed freaks off of the streets. But seriously, get a life dentist boy.