October 25, 2006

Don’t Stop With the Taurus, Truett

America long ago stopped loving the Ford Taurus, and while Ford executives are not known for catching on quickly, the company has indeed announced that the last Taurus will soon roll off its assembly line in Atlanta. And it appears they also know who is going to buy it.

That honor goes to 85-year-old Truett Cathy, founder of the Chick-fil-A restaurant chain and a Ford fan from his early days in the restaurant business, when he believes Ford employees coming from across the street fueled his success.

Actually, this is not yet official. A Ford spokeswoman says they are “working to make it happen,” but refuses to commit to the final-Taurus-to-Truett transaction.

Hey. Ford. Someone wants to buy one of your cars. That doesn’t happen very often. You might want to get the guy his car. Especially considering that he wants a Taurus – you know, the cars you’re not going to make anymore because no one wants them?

If Mr. Cathy wants to buy the last Taurus, this may be an indication that he has eccentric taste. Then again, maybe he is just one of those people who wants to give love to people and things once they have long since been forsaken by all others.

Either way, it seems that Mr. Cathy has a useful role to play in society. The Taurus is a piece of crap, after all. It doesn’t deserve to be made anymore. Truett Cathy’s purchase of the last one, putting the long-overdue nail in its coffin, could become a symbolic event in the life of many other products that deserve the same fate. Mr. Cathy needs to get in his new Taurus and pay a visit:

-          To the headquarters of Norton Anti-Virus Protection. Let’s sell one of those puppies to Truett today! Try firing up your new computer with your Norton ready to patrol for viruses. Go ahead. Try doing anything. Open a program. Send an e-mail. Adjust the volume on the speakers. Uh uh uh! Not so fast! Norton here! Before you do that, we’ll just shake down that application to make sure it’s safe for you. This will only take a moment. Arrgh! Try de-activating it. Good luck. I would rather take my chances with any number of viruses than deal with Norton’s “protection.” Truett Cathy, buy one of these babies as fast as you can. Then take your Taurus:

-          To Sunnyvale, California, headquarters of Palm Inc., where they make those blasted Palm Pilots. I don’t have a Palm Pilot, but they impact my life nonetheless. Just try to schedule a meeting with a Palm Pilot user. Wednesday at 2? Works for me. So says the user of the high-tech device known as the appointment book. The Palm Piloteer? Wait. Darnit! Ah, dropped my utensil. Can you get that? Darnit. Can never get this thing to work. Wednesday? Wait. It doesn’t recognize a day called Wednesday. Are you sure that’s a day? . . .  Mr. Cathy, pick one of those things up, will you? No one says you ever have to use it. Just put it in the glove compartment of your Taurus. Then keep it there while you drive:

-          To Reston, Virginia, home of Sprint Nextel, to order one of those Nextel Walkie Talkies. This very four-years-ago craze seems to be on its last legs anyway, but you can never be too sure. Bee-beep! Zach, where are you? Bee-beep! Golfin’! Bee-beep! Dude. Bee-beep! Dude! Bee-beep! This is so much better than calling you! Bee-beep! I know! Actually, why is it better? Bee-beep! I don’t know! Bee-beep! OK! Dude! Truett Cathy, do us all a favor and beep these bozos out of business.

Cathy’s shopping list could expand forever. Mentos. Handbags for men. Portable DVD players. Wine coolers. If he has a little time to go see a few David Spade movies, all of humanity would be grateful for that as well.

OK, sure, Cathy’s desire to own the last Taurus is not the reason for the model’s demise. Its utter horridness accounts for that. Even so, symbolism is powerful in America. How can we expect to compete in the global economy if we keep letting crap head out the doors of our factories? Make Truett Cathy the Grim Reaper of American commerce. Just think what he could accomplish in a few hours in a Wal-Mart. Perhaps Truett Cathy is reading this column and is ready to embrace the work that only he can do. Then again, if he’s reading this column . . . gulp!