John Hughes has passed, and all we’ll hear about for the next few days is how brilliant ”Ferris Bueller” and “Breakfast Club” and “Planes Trains & Automobiles” were. Wonderful movies, all. And worthy of the praise they’re about to again receive. But I’ve always maintained that “Uncle Buck” was some of his finest work, and certainly the most under-appreciated of his films. (Although I wouldn’t necessarily kick someone in the throat if they suggested that “The Great Outdoors” was his most unjustly unrecognized movie. That bear getting his ass-fur blown off with a high-powered rifle might very well be the scene that defines my generation. Time will tell. But I digress.)

In a nod to a cinematic classic & one of the most talented writers who’s ever lived, I’m breaking out the ”Uncle Buck” quotes to revisit the first 78% of the IndyCar season. A retrospective, if you will, on some of the 2009 happenings — through the wonderful prose of a crude, oafish slob from South Chicago with a big gut … and an even bigger heart.

Roll film!

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Pooter the Clown: You know who I am? In the field of local-live-home entertainment, I’m a god!
Buck: Get in your mouse, and get out of here.

It’s not hard to imagine “Pooter” being ESPN in that situation. And Buck being VERSUS. No sir, not hard at all. (GIVE ‘EM HELL, VERSUS!!! PUNCH ‘EM IN THE FACE!!!)

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Buck: [struggling to open the washing machine]  Do I have to talk dirty to you? Come on! Open up for daddy! I’m gonna shove a load into you! Here we go! Come on, it’s nice and easy. Aaah! Come on, here we go! Ah! Take that! Take that! Come on! You don’t want the crowbar, do you?!

Oval racing should never have been that difficult to watch. Never. Never ever ever ever. Kansas … Indy … Milwaukee … Texas … Richmond … ugh. They’re rather fool-proof, really. It’s how they’re designed. Not unlike washing machines. And when they don’t cooperate? That’s when you want to rape it with a crowbar.

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Buck: I don’t have a college degree. I don’t even have a job. But I know a good kid when I see one. Because they’re ALL good kids, until dried-out, brain-dead skags like you drag them down and convince them they’re no good.

This goes out to all the ladies hating on Hideki. JUST ONE DATE!!!! THAT’S ALL WE’RE ASKING FOR!!! You brain-dead skags make me sick, and you’re destroying the kid’s confidence. I hope you all get gonerrhea.

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Buck: You can go crazy after I leave.

If I didn’t say that exact same thing – in a very menacing & authorative tone – while waving a 6,000-volt taser amidst the chaos of the “pee trough” at this year’s 500 … well then it was something awfully similar to that. I can’t quite remember. But the fact remains, I did not follow my own advice. I buckled under the pressure, and it was not my finest hour. Let us never discuss it again.  

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Buck: What, did you have a few drinks this morning? Huh? Yeah, I think you did.
Pooter the Clown: What are you? Mother Cabrini?

Pooter is versatile enough to represent ESPN AND Jack Arute. Or so I’m hoping. Because there’s a 100% chance that Arute and I had this exact, verbatim exchange the morning of the Richmond race — where he referred to the red tires as “Dr. Feelgoods” no less than 17 times. He may have been more Martini than man by that point. Which makes a lot of sense, frankly. 

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Buck: What’s your record for consecutive questions asked?
Miles: 38.

Pffffft. My wife scoffs at 38 consecutive questions. She’s still warming up in the bullpen at 38, just lackadaisically lobbing inquiries while getting loose. She doesn’t start bringing the heat until the 75-question mark or so.

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Buck: A lot of people hate this hat. It angers a lot of people, just the sight of it.

Replace “hat” with “Izod commercial.” And replace “hate” with “become physically ill and start raining down powerful blows from a hatchet upon their television screens while mired in the throes of a rage-induced seizure.” And then multiply it by a factor of 478,961³. And then you pray you never witness it again. And you pray hard.

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Buck: [holding an axe]  I like to know I have it. Not to kill, no. Just to maim.

If I had a nickel for every time Roger Penske has said this to me this year … Jesus. I’d have three nickels. The man is terrifying and wants me maimed, I fear. But goddamn he gets results.

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Buck: Take this quarter, go downtown, and have a rat gnaw that thing off your face. Good day to you, madam.

It’s rarely wise to treat a lady so disrespectfully … and NEVER so when said lady is Karma. She’ll break your ribs. And set you on fire. And make you impotent. (allegedly)  And slam you into a wall. And then set you on fire again. All while dragging you from 1st in the points standings to 8th. 

(Bitch.)  

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Tia: We need boys, so they can grow up, get married, and turn into shadows.

From one shadow to another … welcome to the Club, Anthony. You remind me of myself at that age, all newly married & full of wonder and set to become a multi-kajillionaire and take over one of the most storied franchises in NFL history, thus ensuring that my only two jobs I’ll ever have were the two most badass jobs on the planet. Ahh, the magic of youth. I remember it well.

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Buck: [into the phone] Hey, Bobby we should really get together sometime. I haven’t been over at the new house since you moved. By the way, I want to apologize for last year at your old house … about those bushes. I had no idea they all would catch on fire like that.

No problem, E.J. That was last year … this is now. You’re a new man, and no longer prone to bizarre acts of arson and/or stabbing people in the face for no apparent reason. And you’re a terrible driver now. Congratulations.

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Maisy’s Teacher: Why was your Uncle microwaving your socks?
Maisy: He can’t get the goddamn washing machine to work.

Duh. Obvious questions lead to obvious answers … 

Terry Angstadt: Just a thought here — but why don’t we get rid of the new aerodynamic package that everyone hates, including the drivers, owners, crewmen, fans, sponsors, promoters, track safety personnel, cameramen, beer vendors, commentators, bloggers, journalists, elderly folks, infants, radio personalities, clergymen, and the dwindling television-watching audience?? Should we just get back to basics here — back to what everyone loved to begin with? How ’bout it?

Brian Barnhart: Hmmmm. OKAY!!

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Great flick. And Godspeed, Mr. Hughes. Here’s to you finding your niche up there in the great Shermer, Illinois in the sky.