The SUV is dead. Long live the sedan on stilts! Yes folks, Chevrolet has transformed their Tahoe from a cheap and cheerful workhorse for environmentally insensitive soccer Moms, to a deluxe cruiser for environmentally insensitive soccer Moms. The change is so well executed, so completely earnest in both scope and scale, you almost feel sorry for the beast. Like the Wild Things watching Max sailing back to his bedroom (already regretting his rumpus at the pumpus), the new Tahoe cries out to departing SUV buyers "Come back! We love you so!" What say you, America?

The new Tahoe is certainly a more alluring monster than the big bland boring box it replaces. Bob Lutz– the GM executive who once dismissed a passel of motor show concept cars as "angry appliances"– will be delighted with what Chevy's American Revolution has wrought: a happy appliance. The Tahoe's sheetmetal displays all the subdued modernism, implied practicality and aesthetic solidity of a Sub-Zero refrigerator, right down to the sleek door handles– I mean "pulls". The Tahoe's hood is as perfectly creased as an Armani suit. The SUV's bowed nose and tail, the gently curving C-pillar, the side mirrors' blacked-out bottoms – every detail reflects an entirely successful attempt to give the Tahoe's exterior a contemporary kitchen's supercool coherence.

As our GM Death Watch series gains traction, I've taken to scanning the skies for black helicopters, stashing Glocks around the house and avoiding the fine city of Detroit. But I would have loved to been at RenCen to see the look on Bob Lutz' face when his boss sliced the Car Czar's salary by 30%. If you recall, Turnaround Tycoon Jerry York originally suggested executive pay cuts as a way to send a clear message to workers throughout the world's largest automaker: WE'RE IN DEEP SHIT. At the time, Maximum Bob responded to the suggestion with characteristic bravado: "I gave at the office." I guess he's learned that bankruptcy is the gift that keeps on giving.

To be fair, Mr. Lutz had something of a point. Although his employment contract isn't a matter of public record, much of Bob's compensation package is tied to the company's performance, both directly (through incentives) and intimately (through stock options). As GM bleeds out, shedding value like a dot com bomb, Bob's lost theoretical millions. OK, it's more than partially his fault. But as an employee stockholder, Lutz has GOT to be worried. Yesterday, Deutsche Bank took a hard look at the state of GM's finances and issued a Lutzian pronouncement: "sell."

The recommendation came despite the fact that a newly independent Jerome P. York finally joined GM's Board of Bystanders. (An SEC 13D/A filing for Tracinda Corp states that Jerry won't share confidential info with his capo, GM stockholder Kirk Kerkorian. Yeah right.) What's more, The Bored of Defectives ordered GM CEO Rabid Rick Wagoner to bring Mr. York the head of Alfredo Garcia. And so he did, making across-the-board cuts in accordance with York's rescue plan: trimming white collar pay, pensions and health care; reducing GM's annual dividend by 50% and, get this, signing-off on a significant reduction in The Board of Bystanders $200k annual "retainer." Message received?

Not where it counts. Let's be clear about this: the cuts will not stanch GM's massive wounds. The General lost over eight billion dollars last year. The largest measure in this package– the dividend reduction– will save GM $566m. Add up all the rest of the bits and pieces, double it and it still doesn't cover GM's losses. Or its recent "charges against earnings." Or the cost of keeping idled GM workers in the "money for nothing and your checks for free" Jobs Bank. And then remember that GM is about to fork over multiple billions in blood money to keep bankrupt parts supplier Delphi's unionized workers working.

Again, Wall Street was suitably unimpressed with GM's black February. More importantly, so was United Auto Workers (UAW) President Big Ron Gettelfinger. Lest we forget, convincing the UAW to take one for the team was the whole point of the exercise, as Rabid Rick quickly pointed out: 'I think it's clear, now more than ever, that we very much have a shared fate." Indeed they do. Unless GM can lower its union labor costs, alter union practices and sell some product by, say, last May, it's all over bar the filing. And… According to the Detroit Free Press, "The union chief dismissed any suggestion that [the cuts] set the stage for GM to push the UAW for more concessions." So, that's that then.

Reporter Daniel Howes over at The Detroit News says Big Ron's stonewalling is nothing more than a bit of pre-election, pre-negotiation posturing. In yesterday's editorial, Mr. Howes said the union boss called for "shared sacrifice" and claimed that "Union folks are smart enough to know that tough times demand tough calls, including concessions they never expected to give." I guess Mr. Howes would also see UAW Vice President Richard Shoemaker's same day statement that Delphi's insistence on pay concessions "will surely lead to a long strike, and that is true whether it involves other corporations or does not involve other corporations" as more posturing.

If Rick Wagoner is a religious man, I bet he's praying that Daniel Howes is right: the union will see sense and do what needs to be done to save the corporate host upon which they feast. Judging from his bankruptcy-proof pension, Rabid Rick's not a betting man. Which is just as well, because unions don't posture. They threaten. If you don't capitulate to their demands, they make good on their threats, come what may. GM has paid billions to the unions. There's no way the union officials that would lead the rank and file into a strike are going to miss a meal because of an anti-Delphi or anti-GM union action, short or long term. They have nothing to lose. As far as they're concerned, you can pay us now, or you can pay us later. Only thing is, white collar cuts or no, GM can't afford either option.

Getting old is not for sissies. Aside from a general degradation in motor skills, sensory perception, memory and earnings, the 401K set is prone to health complaints that are both fantastically expensive and endlessly annoying. Fortunately, there are compensations: grandchildren (kids free from a no-deposit, no-return policy) and the Mercedes Benz E350 4Matic. I'm not saying the E350 was specifically designed to salve the fading sensibilities of the blue rinse brigade, but any car this numb, beige and expensive is clearly aimed at Baby Boomers who are wealthy as Hell and aren't going to take it anymore. Unless you ask nicely.

The E350 is a polite request on wheels. While Mercedes' product developers have been busy performing bizarre genetic experiments in pursuit of The Next Big Thing– carbon fiber supercars, mutant crossovers, four-door chop tops, re-imagined Nazi staff cars– their mid-sized model remains reassuringly bland– I mean, conservative. On the downside, the E still suffers from the swoopy dorkiness of its oval headlights, which make the grill look small, which denies the E350 get-out-my-way gravitas. And it continues to share far too many family traits with the lower-priced C-Class to please the legions of status conscious Mercedes buyers.

Porsche is my favorite automotive brand for one reason: they make my favorite sports car. They do not, however, make my favorite SUV. Infiniti's FX45 is more fun to drive, Land Rover's LR3 is more capable, their Range Rover is more luxurious and when it comes to carrying a crew, Lincoln's Blingigator is the bomb. Sure, the Cayenne Turbo is the world's fastest SUV. And? Aside from dubious relevance, I reckon the debut of the glacial V6 Cayenne cancels-out the accomplishment. But the worst thing about the Cayenne is that it's subsidized Porsche's plan to take over the Volkswagen Group.

This morning, Porsche AG announced it will raise its stake in the Volkswagen Group from five to 20 percent. So much for the Sultans of Stuttgart's claim that they were buying VW stock to ensure access to parts and platforms for future Porsche models. The real motivation behind Porsche's land grab is the same as it ever was: power. More specifically, Porsche's Machiavellian machinations are a real world version of one of those Jeffery Archer-style family sagas, involving genetics, greed and history. Just for fun, here's the plot line:

Ferdinand Porsche made his bones building the "people's car" for Adolph Hitler. As co-general manager of Volkswagen's Wolfsburg factory (along with a Nazi administrator), the Austrian engineer used his considerable design and manufacturing skills to build jeeps, tanks and other weaponry for the German war effort. After the war, the Allies stripped Herr Porsche of his power within Volkswagen (it might have had something to do with Ferdy's willingness to use slave labor). Aided by his son Ferry, financed by a royalty on the Beetle, Ferdinand founded the sports car company that bears his name. Fast forward fifty years…

Following a few decades of Porsche ups and downs and some maneuverings over at Vee Dub, Ferry Porsche's nephew Ferdinand Piech ascended to the Chairmanship of the Volkswagen Group's Board of Directors. And there he stayed, inflicting his autocratic style on the mammoth conglomerate, gathering car brands like a 5th Avenue matron collects Manolo Blahniks, watching VW's US market share swirl 'round the toilet. Two weeks ago, after 13 years on the Group's board (most of it as CEO), Piech finally agreed to step down. Not so coincidentally, his decision cleared the way for today's news: Porsche to assume two seats on the Volkswagen Group's board.

The effect of all this Dallas-style plotting on the Volkswagen Group is not my main concern. Piech's plans for world dominance– such as matching Mercedes model for model– hasn't exactly turned out as planned. (Phaeton anyone?) Now that slave labor isn't the done thing, I'm happy letting the free market determine the wisdom of a Porsche-controlled Volkswagen Group. But I am worried about the fate of the Porsche brand. What will happen to my preferred sports car provider as it becomes more and more deeply enmeshed in Volkswagen Group politics?

In fact, Porsche has already sacrificed its soul to its corporate ambitions. Lest we forget, the Cayenne was originally "sold" to skeptical Porsche-philes as a way for the company to fund development of future sports cars– a story which now has a very different ending. Indeed, if the Porsche family's hunger to reclaim Ferdy's legacy wasn't so strong, would the Cayenne have even been built? Given that Porsche's SUV was developed in close cooperation with Volkswagen, given that the same will apply to the forthcoming Panamera, it's clear that this Porsche – Volkswagen nexus is already heavily influencing the type and character of Porsche's products. Where will it stop?

Bentley, Lamborghini and Bugatti brands were once independent, high-end automakers. Setting aside questions about significant product overlap (an issue which has not troubled the Volkswagen Group since it began its buying binge), why wouldn't a Porsche-controlled Volkswagen simply add Porsche to their corporate portfolio? Members of the Porsche clan who own shares in the family firm would become wealthy beyond their wildest dreams– unless, of course, this has been their dream all along.

If Porsche loses its independence, the sports car lover's best interests would not be well served (a sentiment Porsche has been expressing for as long as I can remember). As part of the Volkswagen Group, any decision regarding Porsche's product development would have to be made in relation to the rest of the group's needs, within the context of the existing bureaucracy. In other words, Porsche's design, engineering and marketing choices would be controlled by, gulp, committees. What's worse, Porsche's current path away from highly-focused manufacturer of sports cars, towards performance-oriented multi-genre automaker, would surely accelerate.

I firmly believe that Porsche should make the world's best sports cars, and that's it. I find it incredibly sad that one of the few automakers that never lost its focus, has. As far as the enthusiast community is concerned, Porsche's incestuous relationship with the Volkswagen Group makes the Cayenne look even more like the beginning of the end. Again, still, I hope I'm wrong.

I once showed-up for a job interview in the adult film industry. (It was an honest mistake.) Before I bailed, I complimented Mr. Triple X on the spectacular view over the Hudson River. He closed the blinds. "I'm agoraphobic.' When I asked the pornographer why someone afraid of open spaces would chose an office overlooking a large part New Jersey, he said "It's not enough to have a million dollars. People have to KNOW you have a million dollars." The obverse is also true. Losing $8.6b is bad, but it's worse if people KNOW you lost $8.6b. Just ask GM.

While GM's prospects have been on the wrong side of dire for the last three financial quarters, both analysts and the general public generally believed The General would limp back to port to make the necessary repairs. After yesterday's announcement, nobody's kicking ice around the deck anymore, waiting for the engines to restart. GM's financial report evoked the unmistakable sound of exploding boilers. Everyone on board now knows that the world's largest automaker is destined for a watery grave. GM CEO Rabid Rick Wagoner's pathetic bleatings about an [eventual] $6b reduction in GM's materials and labor costs sound about as convincing as "this ship is unsinkable."

Truth be told, GM's financials are far worse than yesterday's official report revealed. For example, GM took $3.6b in charges against earnings to cover Delphi's pension liabilities. Yes, well, GM currently reckons the final tab for the parts workers' pensions will be somewhere between the stated $3.6b and… $12b. GM also took a $2b charge against earnings for its much-publicized production cutbacks. Although most of this figure is earmarked for employee costs, those costs continue: the idled workers go straight into the UAW "jobs bank' (where they're paid full whack not to build cars). By the same token, the charge doesn't include the cost of buying-out a large percentage of these idled UAW workers' contracts. Plant write-down accounts for the remaining charge, but the amount stated won't cover the cost of writing down ALL the plants GM intends to close– or will be forced to close.

And none of this includes the damage from Rabid Rick's forthcoming billion dollar (plus) payoff to the UAW to maintain Delphi's union peace. Remember: the cash outflow from these events is out there… waiting. If GM had to pay these charges today, the company's bank account would be perilously close to its minimum operating cash level ($10b). In short, Rabid Rick's erstwhile turnaround strategy relies heavily on underwater bilge pumps. If GM continues to lose market share, if it doesn't create some financial buoyancy, Rabid Rick's crew will have bought no more than a six month reprieve before GM begins its descent into Davey Jones' locker.

File all of the preceding information under "Iceberg, Tip Of." Meanwhile, Wagoner's music-facing ceremony also failed to include any mention of the lifeboat: GMAC. Due to the looming prospect of bankruptcy, only magic bean salesmen appear to be interested in GM's loan arranging cash cow. (If GM goes belly-up, creditors would pig pile on GMAC.) And Rabid Rick didn't make any mention of GM's dividend payments, which show a bizarre, Rasputin-like ability to avoid necessary execution. Oh, and what of the ongoing SEC probe into GM's accounting practices? You can bet there are a lot of crossed fingers on THAT score…

As bad as GM's financial situation is, as bad as it's going to get, the bottom line is more about psychology than numbers. The entire world now knows The General is in deep shit. (When the President of the United States says he ain't gonna bail GM's ass out, a lot more consumers suddenly know GM's ass needs bailing.) An ever-increasing number of current and potential GM buyers are suddenly realizing that they could be left with worthless trade-ins, questionable warranty protection, limited parts availability and problematic service. At some tipping point, they'll simply stop buying GM products. The General's hull will fracture, and the ship will slip between the waves in triple-quick time. Ironically enough, fleet sales will be the first to go…

There's only one thing that could bridge the death accelerating perception gap between GM's potential/inevitable slide into bankruptcy and the [slim] chance that everything will [someday] be all right: GM CEO Rabid Rick Wagoner. THIS is the time for Rabid Rick to publicly announce a bold, clear, inclusive and unequivocal course to a financial safe haven. But no. Rabid Rick's refusal to say (guess? predict? estimate?) when GM will be profitable again is a PR obscenity. Hey Rick; news flash. If you say you don't know when, you're also saying you don't know how, and if you're saying you don't know how, it's time to jump in your golden lifeboat and go. It's not good enough to BE the captain; you have to ACT like one.

In 1817, Marie-Henri Beyle toured the Uffizi museum. Lost in a maze of galleries, the French novelist was paralyzed by indecision. His heart raced. His breathing was shallow and labored. His mind was completely disoriented. He couldn't move. Beyle eventually wrote about his experience under his pen name, Stendahl. In 1979, Italian psychiatrist Graziella Megherini coined the phrase 'Stendahl Syndrome' for people paralyzed by excessive choice. It's a concept bedeviling supermarkets, web pages and… carmakers.

For example, BMW's M5 is considered the ultimate sports sedan. And yet the uber-5er faces a bewildering range of operational decisions: three suspension, shifting and e-traction levels; two horsepower options and eleven gearbox modes. While a hard-core cadre of enthusiasts embrace the Bimmer's programmability, most newbies sit in the M5's driver's seat and… freeze. After overcoming their initial shock, they rely on one or two factory settings– or walk away thanking Gott in Himmel they own something a lot less complicated.

The M5's complexity reflects automakers' overly literal interpretation of America's favorite shibboleth: freedom of choice. Carmakers clearly believe that the more their products cater to each owner's personal preferences, the better. You only have to count the number of motors underneath a S-Class' seat– or tally-up the number of ways it can massage, heat or cool its occupant's hindquarters– to see the philosophy in action. And it's not just the luxury playas kissing ass. Even a humble Hyundai Elantra offers eight-way adjustable seats. This sort of multi-variable "feature creep" is spreading through the automotive landscape like electronic kudzu.

The personalization craze is based on a couple of false assumptions. For one thing, it assumes that people are different. As much as purple dinosaurs would have us believe otherwise, most humans share the same likes and dislikes. Put an Audi MMI interface in front of a wealthy, middle-aged man, and he'll use it (or not) the same way as any other wealthy, middle-aged man: completely ignoring 80% of its functions. If middle-aged men are your core clientele, confronting them with options they don't want or (worse) understand is an indisputably boneheaded idea.

The "options uber alles" movement also assumes that people enjoy experimentation. How do you decide when your M5's chair bolsters should deploy? Which suspension setting is best for the family on a road trip? Technophiles are comfortable "playing" with BMW's buttons until they achieve a suitable result. Regular Joes prefer to leave things as they are (rather than get lost inside an iDrive sub-menu). In both cases, psychological comfort depends on a precise balance between the amount of available choice and a person's ability to understand and evaluate the options. Today's luxury car salesmen spend twice as much time on customer deliveries– explaining functionality– than they did ten years ago. That's a sign of trouble, not progress.

Automotive Stendahl Syndrome isn't restricted to the human – vehicle interface. The industry itself is triggering buyers' instinctual freeze response. Customers must select from literally hundreds of models. Let's say a potential buyer restricts themselves to Ford products. They must then choose from one of eight brands: Ford, Lincoln, Mercury, Mazda, Volvo, Jaguar, Land Rover or Aston Martin. If they take a fancy to Volvo, they must then select a vehicle from eight models: S40, S60, S80, V50, V70, XC70, XC90 or C70. If they opt for an XC90, they then must decide on one of two engine configurations. And then there's the options list… Is it any wonder so many people buy a newer version of their existing whip, rather than face the prospect of Stendahl Syndrome?

Automakers looking to increase customer satisfaction and build their brands should buck the trend and implement a radical, counterintuitive strategy: less choice. First, they must only offer the options and features their core clients really need/want (erring on the side of minimalism). Second, they must make all in-car functions completely intuitive. Third, they must realize that customers are most comfortable choosing between two– count 'em two– options (e.g. heated seat: on or off). Fourth, they should never offer a customer more than three choices for adjusting an in-car device (e.g. driving character: comfort, sport or extreme).

Here's the really tough part: carmakers should only sell three models per brand. I know it sounds crazy, but the average luxury buyer has a better chance of naming the staff at their local Starbuck's than listing Cadillac's entire lineup. By the same token, back in the days when a VW was a Beetle and a bus, the automaker's image was far stronger than it is today. By simplifying their products and scything their range, carmakers would eliminate Stendahl Syndrome, making it easier for customers to choose and enjoy their car. Any way you look at it, that's got to be a good thing.

When I saw a mustard-colored Bentley GT rocketing towards my all time favorite highway exit, I knew lunch was served. Paddling from seventh to third and pressing go, I closed the gap between the M5's voracious prow and Bentley Boy's behind before the adrenalin could hit my bloodstream. As we entered the ramp, the Bimmer's heads-up display assured me I had enough rpm-age to blow-off anything that wasn't built out of carbon fiber and/or jet-powered. When the off-ramp widened for a few yards, I dove inside and dusted Bentley Boy into a fine powder. Despite my obvious, riotous supremacy, nothing changed. BMW's uber-sedan was not my friend.

Supercar scalping in a family four-door is a terrific way to kill an afternoon, but the original M5 earned its place in automotive Valhalla as the consumate all-rounder: a car that can schlep, thrash, coddle, cruise, potter and impress with equal aplomb. Make no mistake: while the M5's accelerative aggression and Nürburgring-fettled handling got the headlines, the uber-Bimmer's core appeal lay within its relatively humble origins, daily practicality and circumspect sheet metal. No other car– at any price– offered such a potent blend of ability and humility.

If I hear that "you can't cut your way to prosperity" line one more time, I swear I'm going to post a forty-eight page article about surgical cancer treatment. Listen up. General Motors sells a vast range of crap automobiles for less than they cost to make. The General has only one hope for survival: cut itself into pieces, jettison ALL the cancerous bits (products, brands, management, committees, supervisors, labor contracts, buildings, factories, suppliers, dealers, Gulfstream jets, the lot) and get on with the business of making the world's best vehicles at… wait for it… a profit.

It's increasingly obvious that this necessary (not to say inevitable) "restructuring" will have to wait until GM goes under. The General's generals made that clear when they reacted to Turnaround King Jerry York's suggestion that GM should deep-six or sell their Saab and Hummer brands. GM execs dismissed the idea with the PR equivalent of a derisive snort. Marketing Maven Monster Mark LaNeve, a man whose comments about GM's pricing strategy sound a lot like a snake-handler speaking in tongues, assured the press that "all GM's brands will eventually be profitable." Bet your bottom dollar? Done. GM has mortgaged its future on baseless brand optimism.

You wouldn't expect anything less from Rabid Rick Wagoner's "Iceberg? What iceberg? Oh THAT iceberg" administration. But what's up with ascot-clad industry doyen Jerry Flint? Forbes magazine's Main Man reacted to York's call for brand assassination with thinly-veiled scorn and happy-clappy cheerleading. In an anti-cull diatribe published by The Car Connection, Flint was contemptuous of Wall Street analysts in general and Kirk Kerkorian's proxy in particular. He excoriated them all with characteristic bluntality: "Well, they are just wrong."

Flint says GM will save Saab by federalizing German Opels, slapping on a Saab sticker and sending them stateside. He predicts that THIS plan will deliver the goods (as opposed to the previous brainstorm involving rebadged Subarus and touched-up Trailblazers). Yes, well, as the writer himself pointed-out back in '93, "For $1.5 billion, GM got a money-losing operation that needs a 30 percent sales increase to break even and maybe a 50 percent increase to be seriously profitable. For that money, it could have built a new line for Cadillac to make it a global contender in the luxury field. Instead, it has Saab." Which still hasn't made a dime for GM; ending '05 down $300m on increased sales.

Flint also sneers at York's proposed Hummericide. He lauds the new H3's sales and trumpets the fact that it's built on the Chevy Colorado platform, sharing its asthmatic five-cylinder engine. Why kill a brand that's on its uppers– you know, other than the fact that it's not profitable? On one hand, you gotta love a GM brand– ANY GM brand– with such a tightly-focused product portfolio. On the other hand, even casual observers might suggest that the whole Hummer shtick is a great landing in the wrong decade. Cliff diving sales figures for Hummer's ludicrous H1 and laughable H2 are only one indication that the brand may not have the brightest of futures. Gas prices are the other.

Flint's Hummeraphilia reflects his faith in GM's overarching strategy of platform sharing (a.k.a. badge engineering). The rest of his article defends Buick, Pontiac and Chevrolet against the executioner's blade on the basis that they sell a Hell of a lot of stuff, and that much of that stuff comes from the same assembly line. "If you eliminated the Pontiac Torrent, for example, there would be less volume for the factory that makes the Equinox and the Torrent. Kill Buick and you starve the factory making the Cadillac DTS and the Lucerne. The trick is to make distinctive models off the same platforms."

For a lesson on how it should be done, Flint points to the factory cranking-out the [sisters under the skin] Chrysler 300, Dodge Charger and Dodge Magnum. On the face of it, DCX' cost savings reaffirm Flint's case for cranking-out as much shit as humanly possible. But the strategy holds a hidden danger: homogeneity. The Dodge Charger may be relatively cheap to build, but the NASCAR Dad's sedan is hardly a "distinctive" departure from the Chrysler 300– or, for that matter, a solid sales success. Lincoln Mercury's disastrous dependence on tarted-up Fords is teaching The Blue Oval Boys that platform sharing and genre-killing brand-specific products are mutually exclusive.

Corner-cutting kills cars. And brands. And companies. Longtime pundits like Flint, who look at the ever-changing roster of products slated for GM's various divisions and conclude "The way up is to grow, not to kill", are just wrong. GM is clinically obese and chronically slow. Platform sharing just makes The General fatter and lazier. Yes, killing brands– and models– would be enormously expensive. But General Motors is diseased. One way or another, sooner or later, the surgeon's knife will swing down and do what must be done.

Call me an oxymoron, but I don't get the whole sports wagon thing. Fast wagon, sure. Hey kids! Watch Daddy wipe the smile off that smug bastard in the baby car. But "sports wagon" clearly implies high-speed cornering. Centrifugal force has this nasty habit of upending juice boxes, sending toys into black holes and making protective mothers scream with homicidal fury. I'd like to say BMW's 325xI Sports Wagon (SW) is an ideal high performance load lugger for lifestylers who don't share my domestic concerns, but I can't because it isn't.

The 325xI Sports Wagon's basic proportions look promising enough for wagon-loving corner carvers– should enough of them exist to establish a consensus. Although it's a fair distance between the front and rear wheels, the SW's overhangs could double as window ledges, and the car itself is athletically compact. Or not. It's hard to tell. Thanks to BMW's kooky "flame-surfacing", their 3 Series five-door's perceived size depends entirely on the viewing distance, the angle chosen and the amount of time spent staring at the thing. Taken as a whole, the flat-nosed SW says "road rocket" like a pepperoni pizza says "dessert."

If Porsche's new Boxster hardtop is a misspelled caiman, its 911 Carrera is a crocodile. While the two species share a common ancestor, put them in the same territory and one of them will end-up lunch. Maybe that's why Porsche rigged the fight; when you make a living selling Carreras, you don't want Caymans cannibalizing their cousins. Well guess what? Evolution will not, CAN not be denied. One blast around the block in a Cayman S and its future alpha status is inescapable. But let's drop this discussion of internecine conflict for a moment and consider the Cayman on its own merits…

Physically, it's no stunner. Yes, the Cayman's muscular fastback and sculpted haunches are exquisite: a deeply alluring shape that finally eliminates the Boxster's insipid push-me, pull-you design. But the Cayman's bootylicious butt draws new attention to the exceedingly bland Porsche family nose. Embedded fog lights may separate the model from its stablemates, but they do nothing to lift the miasma of mediocrity that has bedeviled the Boxster's face since birth. The Cayman's side air intakes are another distraction, lacking in both shape and scale. The German/Finnish roadster is also more color-sensitive than Martha Stewart; in anything other than black, the Cayman looks like a small and frivolous sports car souffle. Which it bloody well isn't.

On Tuesday, the elephant in GM's boardroom removed its cloaking device. In the heart of GM's corporate HQ, in the middle of the Detroit auto show, Jerome P. York told GM's management to fall on their swords. More specifically, the man behind The Man Who Would Be King told The General's generals to prune their salaries, big style. Sure, Kirk Kerkorian's proxy also recommended killing brands, halving dividends, eliminating production capacity and a bunch of other turnaround type stuff. But his call for deep cuts in executive compensation was the exec's most chilling suggestion– at least to the people pulling the strings at the world's largest automaker. RenCen shuddered in horror.

Characteristically, the West Point grad was happy to put some hard numbers to his personal attack. According to York, GM's Board of Bystanders should work for "significantly less" than $200k per year. The company's top five officers should take a "significant" hit to their $7m per year salary. Management further down the "pyramid" should suck up double digit reductions, until "you got to the lowest levels in the plants and offices, where the percentage would hopefully be only a single digit number." In short, Mr. York seems Hell bent on turning on the lights and sending GM's lifelong party-goers home to their parents.

And why not? Obviously, Kirk "Mr. Las Vegas" Kerkorian doesn't have the juice to whack GM CEO Rabid Rick Wagoner and his Board of Bystanders and replace them with made men like York. Captain Kirk knows if he leaves it too long, it'll be too late: they'll be nothing left to plunder. So Kirk decided to kick 'em where it hurts. You know, wake 'em up a little. And just in case GM's fat cats were too stupid to feel the pain, York pointed to the time bomb ticking in the corner: "…the current cash burn rate of $24m per day would keep GM going for another thousand days or… roughly three years." Whew! "But of course that's if conditions remain the same as they were in the first nine months of 2005." Stop it Jer; you're killing me!

York's speech gave three reasons why GM's thousand day march to bankruptcy might take a bit longer (The General's new SUV's, the Chevy Malibu "renewal" and the Saturn Aura), and a more complete and plausible list of reasons why the gig could be up by next Friday (a weakening US economy, the cost of Delphi's union peace and downsizing production, the loss of GMAC income and market share). As far as veiled threats go, this one arrived buck naked on a white charger, and I don't mean the sexy new Dodge. In fact, it was so compelling it probably scared GM's top dogs for a full ten minutes.

Despite York's ability to spell-out GM's clear and present danger, his speech lacked sufficient animus to light a sustained fire under GM's corporate butt. It was couched as "tough love", suffused with compliments and reassurances. "We're not waiting to feast on GM's dismembered body," York as-good-as declared. "We're here because we want to see GM restored to its former glory– well, OK, profitability." Call it the Home Depot approach: You can do it. We can help. To which GM's Car Czar Maximum Bob Lutz immediately and publicly replied: I can do it and you can piss off. And leave your hands off my salary, Bub.

If only York hadn't pulled his punches. As TTAC's Deep Throat points out, York's estimation of GM's cash stockpile included money that isn't there: gains from the sale of GMAC, Saab, Hummer and anything else that isn't nailed down. Also, GM would be forced to declare bankruptcy well before it runs out of cash. Analysts say The General needs at least $10b on hand just to run the business (York uses $5b as an acceptable minimum). My Go-To Guy says GM currently can get its mitts on about $5b (above the $10b bankruptcy threshold), plus an equal amount from its VEBA fund (Volunteer Employees' Benefits Association, whose use is restricted). So, at $24m a day, GM's nest egg will be gone in 400 days.

That's IF things stay on an even course. York's doomsday scenario was bleak, but it didn't include the fact that a new pension funding rule could wipe out GM's entire hoard. Or the cataclysmic effect of recent price cuts and incentive reductions on GM loyalists, who are already so far backwards on their loans they can't afford a new car. Or what happens if fleet buyers– 25% of GM's business– smell bankruptcy. Or what's going on with the SEC probe. Or, let's face it, any number of nasty things currently hidden and vaguely hinted at in York's "aside" calling for greater transparency. When you think about it, York's audience may not know the half of it– literally. Clearly, they should.

If you're visiting the Detroit auto show, do me a favor. Go to the GM stand, find the new Chevrolet Tahoe Dual-Mode Hybrid SUV and ask the moto-bouncer to pop the hood. See if the thing's got a hybrid engine. (Ignore the engine cover; a few months ago, GM put a fake plastic cover over a pushrod powereplant to convince AutoWeek they were driving a hybrid prototype.) If The Man refuses to accommodate your request, try to decide if he's hiding something. Either way, let me know. 'Cause I'm beginning to think that Buickman is on to something…

If you don't know Buickman (a.k.a. Jim Dollinger), it's not for lack of trying. Since '94, the Michigan car salesman has dedicated his life to promoting his "Return to Greatness" recovery plan. He's brought his campaign to salesmen, customers, stockholders, board members, union members, dealers, the press, the web (www.generalwatch.com); anyone and everyone who'll give him the time of day. Now that GM faces the final curtain, Buickman has pretty much given-up on his quixotic quest and transformed himself into a whistle blower, or, if you prefer, a professional thorn in the side of GM's masters. Less charitably, Buickman is now a full-blown GM conspiracy theorist.

Buickman believes a cabal of international financiers is driving GM into bankruptcy so they can buy it up for "cents on the dollar". If I tell you that Buickman identifies the main culprits as the Rothschilds, a favorite villain for folks suspecting the secret implementation of a non-democratic "New World Order", your mind may turn away from the details of his allegations. As would mine– if it weren't for that damn engine cover. Even though I don't buy into that whole "World Bank as KAOS" shtick, I keep wondering what kind of company would create a hybrid head fake. Whose idea was it? Who knew about it? More to the point, if GM's willing to lie about the availability of hybrid engines, what else are they up to?

On the face of it, Buickman's allegation of corporate suicide don't square with counterfeit hybridism; if Rabid Rick Wagoner wants to jam GM's yoke forwards, why pretend The General's got the magic engine elixir? Of course, whenever you enter Conspiracy World, every objection has an equal and opposite explanation. In this case, Buickman maintains that Wagoner wants the world to think he's trying to save GM, even though he isn't. Plausible deniability. And then Buickman brain dumps a mountain of innuendo, from Wagoner's bankruptcy-proof pension to the company's $4b FIATsco.

And that's where it starts to get weird, because Buickman ain't just whistling Dixie. Why would GM's Board of Bystanders let Wagoner create a bankruptcy-proof pension if, as he claims, "we don't have a plan for bankruptcy"? Why did Merrill Lynch immediately buy GM's abandoned FIAT stock, given that Merrill's CEO also serves on GM's Board? Furtive Jewish bargain hunting bankers or no, Buickman's right: there are a lot of dubious goings-on over at RenCen involving the disposal of GM's assets.

And then there's the union health care 'giveback.' When we first heard of the deal, we were surprised to learn it established a $3b health care fund for the United Auto Workers (UAW). Aside from the obvious duplicity involved (when is a giveback not a giveback?) and the devious timing (Wagoner made the announcement on the day GM revealed its third quarter losses), why did GM fork over a lump sum to the UAW? Why not just pay out for increased health care coverage from The General's corporate coffers? Buickman points out that the UAW receives a 20% "administration fee". If true (neither GM nor the UAW will confirm the report), that's a $600m 'tip'. That's… scary.

And then Buickman says that the UAW and GM have agreed to stage a union strike later this year to destroy the company, so that the nefarious forces responsible can live happily ever after. As Buickman can't provide any evidence for his GM-killing, nest-feathering conspiracies, sorting fact from fantasy is nearasdammit impossible. Applying Occam's razor (the simplest explanation is most likely to be correct) doesn't help when you're forced to explain GM's endless F-ups by choosing between gross incompetence and Enron-style shenanigans.

The best I can do is reference Martha Mitchell. Mrs. Mitchell's husband John was the US Attorney General under Richard Nixon. Mrs. M would call Washington reporters in the middle of the night with bizarre tales of illegal activities: a secret enemies list, South American assassinations, break-ins, wiretaps, the FBI Director wearing a dress and more. By the time these reporters realized Mitchell wasn't a crazy drunk, her husband was in jail for conspiracy, obstruction of justice and perjury. In other words, while it's easy to dismiss Buickman's rants as the sour fruit of a man scorned by GM's Boy's Club, being bitter doesn't make a man a fool. Or, come to think of it, wrong.

UPDATE: The Chevy Tahoe hybrid has been removed from the floor of the Detroit Auto Show for 60 Minutes spinnery. We await confirmation of its powerplant…

I don't want to be the one to throw cold water on Detroit's billion dollar beauty pageant, but someone's got to do it. The workers' demonstration outside Cobo Center turned out to be a damp squib (probably because the workers in question enjoy a union contract that guarantees them job security, a comfortable salary and comprehensive health care). The mainstream automotive press isn't about to bite the hand that RSS feeds. So I'll step into the breach with a simple statement: the last thing Detroit needs right now is a bunch of new cars.

Once upon a time, the Detroit auto show was The Detroit Auto Show, not some gussied-up international flying circus. Carmakers showed off wild, inherently stupid concept cars that would never, EVER be built and the latest update to their showroom models. And then everyone headed off to open bars and hooker-laden hospitality suites to do what comes natural to middle-aged white men. Now the suits are serious and the web is alive with the sound of clickery, as even industry addicts struggle to keep up with dozens of new models headed for the showrooms. While it's easy to get caught up in the buzz, I'm here to say that all this product overkill will, as the Brits say, end in tears.

Of course, niche marketing mania already has a lot of shareholders crying– should anyone be bothered to notice. GM and Ford have wiped off tens of billions from shareholder value in the last year alone, and yet everyone is happy to believe that spending hundreds of millions of dollars building and showing off a fantastic over-abundance of new products is a sign of corporate health and hope. Even Daimler-Chrysler-Mercedes-Dodge-not-so-SMART, a company that missed a date with the executioner by the skin of the [Hail Mary] 300C, is happy to move with the gluttony-as-God groove. Detroit's submersion under a red ink tsunami ought to tell folks in no uncertain terms that this "car of the minute" shotgun approach is an abject failure, even if Detroit's titanic deck party says otherwise.

While GM unveils the latest Buick van (a vehicle that should have been called "Last Days in the Bunker" instead of "Enclave") and declares a corner turned for a dead brand waiting, Toyota reveals a refreshed sixth gen Camry with a hybrid engine option, and keeps grinding the competition into the dust. The makers of America's best-selling sedan (for the last four year's running) "get it": you sweat blood and spend billions to get customers into a new vehicle, and then you sweat blood and spend billions to bloody well keep them there. Lexus' updated eight-speed LS technobarge will keep their customers away from Mercedes dealers. Infiniti's non-radical G35 concept car and tweaked FX and M models will do the same.

The Big Three are neglecting their core models in favor of entirely new models that look like nothing else in their portfolio (e.g. the Lincoln MKX). While the Japanese are not adverse to growing and selling a bit of strange fruit from time to time, they refine and refine and refine their existing best-sellers, minting money and growing market share. Screw GM's new crossovers, how's the new Impala and big Caddy? Forget about the Ford Edge, how's the new Lincoln LS– I'm sorry, Five Hundred? Crap, really. Nothing but a big soft target for rival automakers coveting their audience. The fact that Ford and GM's "new" SUV's won't offer a world-class hybrid powerplant for another year is nothing less than a disgrace.

A while back, the "ten day car" was the talk of Cobo Township. The idea: build a customized version of a mainstream model and deliver it to the buyer in ten days. At an auto show conference, consultant Michael Robinet declared the concept dead. At the same time, The Vice President of CSM Worldwide acknowledged that dealer profits are increasingly dependent on aftermarket conversions. Hel-lo? As the increasing number and sophistication of Camry options indicates, the ten day car concept is far from dead. And money, like energy, is never lost; it just changes form. The dealer profits are a clear indication that mass customization IS the future– not the explosion of new models. In fact, its realization could help save Detroit's automakers from oblivion, maintaining what little customer loyalty remains.

Think about it. Check the history of the sales charts, where the same models appear again and again. That's because the vast majority customers don't want a NEW car. They want a BETTER car. As you can plainly see at The North American International Clusteryouknowwhat, Detroit seems resolutely determined not to give it to them. So party on guys. A reckoning is on its way.

Regrets? GM's Vice President of North American Vehicle Sales has had a few. Then again, too few to mention. When quizzed about the wisdom of last summer's Fire Sale for Everyone, Monster Mark LaNeve said "Hindsight being 20/20, I probably wouldn't have done it." Probably? The campaign annihilated The General's fall and winter business and sealed GM's rep as America's largest discount car company. Which LaNeve now vows to fix by ignoring the connection between guilt and change and reanimating the company's short-lived "Total Value Promise" program.

Which is what, exactly? Although LaNeve's past rhetoric qualifies him for a job as the fifth Wiggle, and the specifics of the latest version of the Total Value Promise (TVP) await a Detroit unveiling, Monster Mark's been dropping hints. At the LA car confab, the slightly confessional marketing maven revealed the basics: lower sticker prices and a clear focus on comparative excellence. "We'll say, 'Best product, here's why," LaNeve said. "'Best price on an MSRP basis.'" What's more, "With every new product we bring to market, we'd like to price it very aggressively."

Not to coin a phrase, but the spin-out starts here. First of all, GM doesn't make the best products. While The General's camp followers will cry foul and cite various measurements placing GM vehicles head and fenders above the competition, the Chevrolet Corvette is the company's only undisputed class leader– and the $65k sports car division isn't exactly what you'd call crowded. Sure, GM's refreshed SUV's may turn out to be the business, but the majority of GM's products are also-rans. After all, if GM vehicles WERE the best of the best, the world's largest automaker wouldn't have to discount the damn things.

As for GM's plan to reduce advertised prices, well, we've been here before. In the brief period between Fire and Toe Tag sales, GM launched (pre-launched?) the TVP. Then as now, Monster Mark declared that GM's window stickers would be "closer" to the actual bottom line. The fact that this less-than-iron-clad "promise" was quickly and completely deep-sixed for yet another nationwide incentive campaign removed any chance consumers would believe GM's latest pledge. And why should they? You don't have to be a Keynesian economist to know that The General's inability to limit its supply guarantees a glut, which assures an eventual price cut. Lesson learned? Wait and prices will fall.

In fact, the whole concept of MSRP (Manufacturer's Suggested Retail Price) has been thoroughly discredited. Thanks to a seemingly endless succession of nationally-advertised discount campaigns, consumers now operate on the basis that a vehicle's MSRP is only an inflated starting point, or, if you prefer, meaningless. No one pays sticker. No one. How do consumers compare vehicle prices when they're subject to an ever-changing farrago of incentives and finance offers? The savvy ones go to independent websites like www.kbb.com, press a few buttons and sort it out. Given the confusion, volatility and newfound transparency of car prices, GM might as well lose the sticker and simply direct consumers to an appropriate website.

Obviously, legally, they can't do that. Equally obvious, strict TVP adherence is highly unlikely, veering towards impossible. Think of it this way: if one of GM's competitors reduces their prices with an incentive campaign, a TVP-faithful GM could only respond by lowering their advertised sticker price. That's not a strategy bound to please recent owners or dealers, whose livelihood depends on trying to maintain as much of the inflated MSRP as possible. It also flies in the face of common sense: what's built must be sold. If discounts are what American consumers need to get the iron off the lot, discounts is what they're gonna get.

The biggest problem with TVP is that GM is, as always, hedging its bets. Note LaNeve's use of MSRP as a measure of relative price; GM is not promising to have the best price relative to the competition in absolute terms. By the same token, LaNeve said he would "like" to price new vehicles aggressively, not that he 'will.' In truth, there's only one alternative to the current rebate-driven set-up: the no-dicker sticker. If GM really wants to eliminate incentives, they have to say 'this is the price for this vehicle.' Period.

You could certainly posit that much of the Fire Sale for Everyone's success was due to the [perceived] lack of price negotiation. You could also credibly maintain that non-negotiable prices assured the Saturn brand's initial survival. But you'd have a hard time arguing that GM's management has the stones to weather the inevitable fall-out from a no-haggle pricing policy, as dealers scream bloody murder and duff vehicles pile-up in their thousands. Bottom line: expect GM's TVP to fade into obscurity for the second time, replaced by yet another round of rebates. And once again, Monster Mark LaNeve will be left without regrets.

When historians analyze GM's collapse, searching for the precise moment when The General jumped the shark, it will be like trying to pinpoint the onset of Alzheimer's. The world's largest automaker has been screwing things up so spectacularly for so long that even a $2b payoff to FIAT for signing the wrong bit of paper seems like a bump on the road to oblivion. What's more, GM's management is still busy making monumental mistakes. The Board of Bystanders' decision not to admit Kirk Kirkorian's proxy into their midst is only the latest and greatest example.

Unfortunately, I don't have any inside info on the failed negotiations between GM's largest private investor and The Powers That Be. I only know that last Tuesday, after GM's Board rebuffed Captain Kirk's nominee Jerry York, the billionaire investor sold 12m GM shares. The move cut his stake from to 9.9 to 7.8 percent and sent GM's stock into freefall (down to an 18-year low). Some financial experts see it a tax dodge. Others look at Kirk's on-again, off-again romance with MGM and predict his return. TTAC's Deep Throat figures this is it: Kirk's outta here. In any event, Kirk has sent both GM's board and the markets a clear message about GM's future, or lack thereof…

When Kirkorian began his buying binge, GM Car Czar Maximum Bob Lutz displayed his usual penchant for mindless optimism: "He smells a turnaround." Meanwhile, the octogenarian investor was, sensibly enough, plotting to wrest control from Lutz and the other corporate officers who'd mishandled GM's mighty engines, limiting the ship's maneuverability, condemning it to a Toyota encounter of the iceberg kind. Equally obvious, a seat on the Board was the only way Captain Kirk could oust Rabid Rick Wagoner from the bridge, and maybe, just maybe, save the ship from a watery grave. (For those of you keeping metaphorical score, the Titanic had an antiquated rudder.)

And why not? You don't have watch all 357 Dallas episodes to know that a company's future depends on the character of the people running it– or that some people will do anything to maintain control. Wagoner's "I'm going to bring Bobby down if I have to destroy Ewing oil to do it" response to Kirkorian's play was predictable enough, but the Board of Bystander's negative reaction was surprisingly [Cliff] Barnesian. Clearly, they excluded Mr. York to protect Wagoner's mob– which is a bit like backing a flyweight boxer and his fawning entourage over a highly decorated lieutenant commanding a heavily armed, battle-scarred SWAT team.

Now how did THAT happen? You'd be forgiven for thinking that the simple fact that GM's stock price has dropped $20 (and counting) since last January would have motivated The General's Board of Bystanders to activate Rabid Rick's bankruptcy-proof retirement package, STAT. Again, we may never get a clear picture of Rabid Rick's anti-York maneuvering (never mind view the incriminating negatives). But at least we can get a little insight into the Board's myopia, thanks to Slate's Daniel Gross.

Gross recently reported that GM's Board has two gold-standard retired CEO's: Sara Lee's John Bryan and Northrop Grumman's Kent Kresa. And then… Philip Laskawy ran scandal-plagued accountants Ernst & Young. George M.C. Fisher, former chairman and CEO of Eastman Kodak, failed to reverse his company's declining market share. Former Compaq CEO Eckhard Pfeiffer did so well during his tenure that company founder Ben Rosen bought a full-page New York Times ad to diss him. And former ABB head Percy Barnevik was recently forced to return 60% of his $88m pension.

GM's board also includes five active execs: Armando Codina (Republican fixer, Board of Directors-aholic, Florida real-estate maven), Erskine Bowles (ex-Clinton Chief of Staff, twice failed senatorial candidate, President of the University of North Carolina), Ellen Kullman (safety minded DuPont Veep), Karen Katen (Pfizer Drug Lord) and Stan O'Neal (Merrill Lynch's cost-cutting 'Mr. Ruthless'). Other than Rabid Rick Wagoner, Stan the Man is the only CEO in the bunch who's run a publicly held company. He's also the only GM Board member to have revived a publicly held company. And, one surmises, he's the only board member with an ounce of common sense.

After all, this is the motley crew who believe it's a good idea to keep Rabid Rick Wagoner in the Gulfstream G5 style to which he's become accustomed. More to the point, these are the same group of misadventuring misfits who can't recognize a good man when they see one. Well, OK, maybe York's not a "good man" in a Grosse Point golf club kinda way. But he's a devastatingly effective corporate leader: a West Point grad that kicked IBM and Chrysler's ass into shape by paring waste, reorganizing resources and asking questions no one else dared ask. Turning down York's guidance to thwart Kirkorian's ambitions and protect Wagoner's ass was a– if not "the"– seminal moment in GM's long, sad saga. One the company will not live to regret.