Dale Earnhardt, Jr. is King of a Hellish, Post-Apocalyptic World

Dale Earnhardt, Jr. is known to be somewhat of a weird bird around NASCAR. He’s a little too shy, a little too awkward and a little too goofy. But that doesn’t mean he is without endorsements. Being the son of a racing legend (RIP), his name generates attention just because of the association. Dale is nowhere near as successful as his father, in terms of the competitive arena, but he sure knows how to make that endorsement deal money.

Outside of stumbling interviews, Dale has the face of your awesome neighbor next door. The guy who’s always helpful. The one who is always there whenever you need a new Johnson Rod and he helpfully supplies. That’s why it shocks me that instead of playing the somewhat humble Nationwide spokesman or unabashed lover of Mountain Dew, PepsiCo is now pushing him as the king of our collective nightmares.

Sitting a top a throne made of flaming exhausts and various other chrome parts, Dale Jr. slams a Mountain Dew while the camera pulls back to reveal the empire before him. There are women in green shirts with pearly white teeth and seemingly anatomically enhanced parts. Their presence suggests that Dale Jr. is a sexual slave owner who demands that they wave checkered flags to remind him of his imperial importance. Pulling back further, his crew members are cheering and spewing gallons of the carbonated lemon lime fuel into the foreground. Their faces are contorted with a sickly joy, a primal sense of pleasure of jesting in Dale Jr.’s court.

Then, it’s revealed that the peons of this Mad Max-like fever dream are two NASCAR fans who don’t seem to understand that their will never be a race again. They are in the in-field to live and to work when Dale Jr. requests. The one in the cooler bath has been given a day of R&R while his lead painted partner to the must resort to cooking the Dew King’s dinner that he will inevitably hate because HE’S THE KANG.

In this world, there are no Jimmie Johnsons, no Jeff Gordons, no Brad Keselowskis, no Kurt and Kyle Buschs, no Tony Stewarts, and certainly no Damn Danica Patricks. Only Dale Jr. is supreme and all doubters must face their fate via death by ATV crash which occurs in the background. The participants are most likely Juan Pablo Montoya and Kevin Harvick.

If this is what Dale Jr.’s dreams are actually made of, there’s no way we can stop him. He’s got that PepsiCo money. So we should all be very, very afraid.


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