Cerberus has a problem. Two problems, actually: Chrysler and GMAC. But GMAC loans money to people, an activity that is, frankly, boring. The applications come in, the money goes out, the loans turn bad and the entire capitalist system collapses. Happens all the time.

On the other hand, Chrysler builds cars. Big, heavy, powerful machines with sensuous curves and gleaming chrome.

Plus cupholders.

In short, while loans cause global economic meltdowns, cupholders are, like, totally cool.

So let's focus on cupholders. Chrysler cupholders. And of the cars they're attached to. These fine examples of American engineering and design prowess sure look beautiful in the showroom. Good thing, too, because most of them are still sitting right there.

And that's the problem. It used to be Daimler's problem, but the German company figured that it was better off selling Mercedes-Benz sedans to snooty suburban elitists than waiting for ordinary small-town folks to put down their mooseburgers and fork over 30,000 grimy dollar bills for a new Town & Country minivan. That road will get you nowhere. Danke, aber nein danke.

No one could blame Daimler for what it did next -- paying Cerberus to take Chrysler off its hands. The deal made sense at the time. Who could be better at selling Vipers, Rams and Avengers than a big, scary investment firm?

Well, weird story there. Even with new ownership in charge at Chrysler, American consumers still regard the company with bemused horror -- almost as if it's got three heads. Turns out, no one wants pickups and sports cars with vicious-sounding names. Or SUVs and station wagons with more bucolic monikers -- the Pacifica and the Aspen models aren't selling that well either. In short, nothing works. War, peace, reptiles, upscale ski resorts, mountain-dwelling ruminants -- none of these images produces enough cognitive dissonance to overcome consumers' reluctance to purchase crappy cars.

What, then, can Cerberus do to get buyers into Chrysler's showrooms? The one obvious answer -- calling out the Alaska National Guard -- is, unfortunately, unavailable right now. The Guard is heroically providing metaphorical cover to the GOP presidential ticket. Too bad. Those troops are getting a lot of experience selling something that looks newly refreshed on the surface but remains outdated and unreliable where it counts.

No sense dwelling on what is not possible. Surely, there are other approaches Cerberus can take to start moving those Nitros and PT Cruisers. Other than tow trucks.

Rebates? Old hat. Employee discount pricing? Been there, done that. More cupholders? Don't toy with our emotions.

The outlook is certainly bleak. But there is one plan that's so completely crazy Larry Kudlow could have thought of it: litigation.

Sue the bastards! File a class action against everyone who visited a dealership, read an ad or saw a TV commercial and didn't end up buying a Chrysler product. Those people are deadbeats who are causing all the trouble for the company. They should be held liable. Or at least be coerced into changing their behavior vis-à-vis crappy cars.

In the law, this cause of action is known as habeas emptor -- literally, you have the buyer -- and is a jurisprudential tradition dating to 13th-century England. It was most often employed by medieval dung merchants who, for obvious reasons, needed to move inventory quickly.

The historical parallels couldn't be closer. A well-pleaded habeas emptor complaint must contain the following elements: (1) a consumer who (2) considers making a purchase but (3) with reckless disregard for economic consequences (4) chooses not to complete said purchase, causing (5) financial hardship to a vendor who possesses (6) galactic chutzpah.

While habeas emptor has fallen into disuse recently, its revival will reverberate throughout the economy. First and foremost, a rash of reckless consumer litigation would stem the tide of layoffs at law firms. And prudent consumers would have to make certain that they are insured against potential damages from their reckless refusal to purchase. At this point, things may start to break down: What happens if an insurance broker refuses to purchase legal services to sue someone who refuses to purchase a refusal to purchase policy?

Clearly, sorting out all the legal issues could be expensive. Not to worry -- GMAC is, despite its well-documented troubles, still lending to creditworthy borrowers. What's that, Mr. Creditworthy? You refuse to take out a loan? See you in court, bub.

Unless you buy this cupholder.