the Rolling Acronym Sleuth edition

​Nine FACTS, One LIE
Issue #28

1. DAM FST blew by me at, shall we say, a high rate of velocity this morning. Normally I don't mind that action at all. In fact, I sort of love when someone eats up the fast lane, exploring their personal and spatial freedoms, testing momentum and friction and various quanta of acceleration like Sir Isaac Newton on a modified Kawasaki with glasspack exhausts methodically testing the movement of objects in space.

2. Someone else's proximal velocity also makes it, as Ike Newton will tell you from long experience, that much less likely I will get nailed by some cop with donut and attitude for my own reckless speed.

3. Except, in this instance, DAM FST came roaring up behind me at the end of a merge lane, where there really was not room for two vehicles, and so decided to cut around on the shoulder in order to attain exactly one car-length's advantage in ETA to destination, but then sat, like everyone else, in lazy village traffic.

4. In the automotive, therapeutic, behavioral, psychological, sociological, aeronautical, design, and proctological disciplines, this is commonly known as being "A Complete Douche."

5. Although you could make the case that the usage of "douche" as an adjective in itself, unless you happen to be twenty-two during the long summer of 1993, and you've just been verbally reamed by your manager in front of many queasily satisfied customers at Olive Garden, prompting you to throw down your alfredo-spotted apron and quit, is in itself somewhat douchey. Which, of course, in this context, makes it the perfect gateway into meta-ironicism.

6. DAM FST, who I glimpsed as he veered from the shoulder and back across gravel into my lane, was a forty-ish white guy with a shoebox of a head, Hedge Acronym ballcap, and a shiny Submariner-ish watch nestled low in abundant wrist hair. There was a pressed Brooks Brothers fresh from the dry cleaners hanging from the seat hook, and a tennis racket in an immaculate white cover propped in the passenger seat radiating the attitude of an exhausted and divorce-considering Muscovite wife.

7. So, basically, the dude was Chevy Chase from "Caddyshack" merged with Jared Kushner's predatory Saudi-vault gaze, with a side of ethnically cleansed Roger Federer and the interpersonal manners of Titus Andronicus.

8. As I idled, 5/8ths of an inch from his rear bumper, his vanity, and his vanity plate, few essential questions came to mind:

9. Was it possible that DAM FST stood for "Damascus Fist?"

10. Now, that would be awesome and mean the driver was the grandson of the little-known 70's wrestler and proudly Syrian foil of Andre The Giant, in which case, all was forgiven.

11. Or maybe DAMASCUS FIST was a proud and fervent participant in a sub-genre of romantic behavior generally frowned upon by scripture throughout the Abrahamic Religions, in which case all was also forgiven.

12. On the other hand, maybe DAM FST was shorthand for "Demi Moore's Forward Surgical Team" or "Douche As Mentioned in Florida Standard Time" or "Dean Martin's Field Sobriety Test" or "JC Van Damme's Follistatin Testosterone."

13. Unlikely, I thought, inching with the click of his left turn signal, making it imperative that I decode this person before they accelerated away from my disdain and, to a lesser degree, my OCD, forever.

13. Dampness? Damsel? Damnation? F. Scott Titzgerald? Flat Screen Television? Funter S. Thompson?

14. If you think about it though, it is kind of fascinating to envision yourself in line at the DMV, running through a last-minute list in your head of possible personalized messages, homages or references or puns, and wonder why anyone chooses anything at all.

15. Like, in 2025, barely afloat in the forced immersion of social media curation and internet self-branding, what are you, as an individual, really trying to communicate to the world with a rectangle of metal spot-welded to the back of your vehicle, which in itself already carries a distinct message in terms of style and coloration, but mostly More Wealth Or Less Wealth depending on the model?

16. Do you choose LNDCLLNG or JERRYCRIES or ZOROASTER 69 or CELEBRITY ME or MY CASH YOUR POVERTY or WARSAW GHETTO or HUG ME LIKE POMPEII or JOHN WYNE GACY or MILL E VAN ILL E?

17. Or, in a welter of pure ego and universal obliviousness, do you clumsily brag about your car?

18. Okay, so presuming it's DAMN FAST, let's look at the specs on the 2002 Mercedes SLK 32 AMG 2 seat roadster coupe (just guessing). Apparently, motivating the SLK32 AMG is a 3.2-liter supercharged, intercooled V6. It makes 349 horsepower and 332 pound-feet of torque. Based on the standard SLK32’s normally-aspirated V6, the AMG version adds, in addition to the supercharger, new throttle body, cams, valves and valve springs.

19. Fair enough, and hard to argue with. In fact, the dude's ride might even give my Extremely Powerful But Non Personalized Plate precision automobile a run for its money on a straightaway while betting pinks, and I imagine in any case it's really fun to drive, although I suspect I wouldn't fit in it very easily, and therefore would regard it as impractical for anything more than a short Steve McQueen burst across town.

20. I also wouldn't want to own the Merc on general principle, given its severe Teutonic/Blitzkrieg/Wernher von Braun baggage and Invasion Of Poland associations. But I admit that's like being a Loud Vegan and hectoring your dinner companions about the evils of GMO grapeseed oil all through the pasta course.

21. I love my father for many, many reasons, but at the moment one of the most convincing ones is that I recall, around the age of 12, asking him why he had no bumper stickers on his car. He looked at me, frowned, and said, "I am no one's billboard".

22. I pondered that for a moment, and then he said, "also, it's fucking stupid." Then we hopped into the blue Saab 900 Turbo and went somewhere superior.

23. DAM FAST eventually turned into a small shopping center with a nail salon, a teriyaki joint, and "Scissor Me Whiskers", which proudly advertised its services in the realm of bespoke pet grooming.

24. I turned in the opposite direction, toward home, and then, at some point later, arrived.
​
25. There is no twenty-five.