NASCAR as we have come to know it must die. If ever there was a case for assisted suicide, it is present-day big league stock car racing. I suspect we’ve find ourselves at the bedside of this morbidly obese, gluttonous, gaudy reflection of society after following a predictable path. An arc. A gently rising arc that everything must follow. A humble birth, rising from next to nothing to the highest of highs. A child destined for greatness. Strong legs to carry it far and wide, broad shoulders to bear an ever-increasing burden. But never more than a bastard child, bred of the seed of evil – money. From the high we must decline. All things must pass. And in these end days the pace quickens. This king has been overfed.