Epic Fail!

Flying!

Ur doin' it rong!

Automobile Editorial

I'm a proud member for Ford Motor Company family. I love working there and have since the first day I started.
Lately, there's been a whole load of junk thrown our way because of the so-called 'bailout'.
I read this editorial the other day, and figured I'd share it. It was sent to me, so I can't source it directly, but if I can I will, in order to give credit where credit is due.
I didn't right this, I just agree with it:

Editor:
As I watch the coverage of the fate of the U.S. auto industry, one alarming and frustrating fact hits me right between the eyes. The fate of our nation's economic survival is in the hands of some congressmen who are completely out of touch and act without knowledge of an industry that affects almost every person in our nation. The same lack of knowledge is shared with many journalists whom are irresponsible when influencing the opinion of millions of viewers.
Sen. Richard Shelby of Alabama has doomed the industry, calling it a dinosaur. No Mr. Shelby, you are the dinosaur, with ideas stuck in the '70s, '80s and '90s. You and the uninformed journalist and senators that hold onto myths that are not relevant in today's world.
When you say that the Big Three build vehicles nobody wants to buy, you must have overlooked that GM outsold Toyota by about 1.2 million vehicles in the U.S. and Ford outsold Honda by 850,000 and Nissan by 1.2 million in the U.S. GM was the world's No. 1 automaker beating Toyota by 3,000 units.
When you claim inferior quality comes from the Big Three, did you realize that Chevy makes the Malibu and Ford makes the Fusion that were both rated over the Camry and Accord by J.D. Power independent survey on initial quality? Did you bother to read the Consumer Report that rated Ford on par with good Japanese automakers.
Did you realize Big Three's gas guzzlers include the 33 mpg Malibu that beats the Accord. And for '09 Ford introduces the Hybrid Fusion whose 39 mpg is the best midsize, beating the Camry Hybrid. Ford's Focus beats the Corolla and Chevy's Cobalt beats the Civic.
When you ask how many times are we going to bail them out you must be referring to 1980. The only Big Three bailout was Chrysler, who paid back $1 billion, plus interest. GM and Ford have never received government aid.
When you criticize the Big Three for building so many pickups, surely you've noticed the attempts Toyota and Nissan have made spending billions to try to get a piece of that pie. Perhaps it bothers you that for 31 straight years Ford's F-Series has been the best selling vehicle. Ford and GM have dominated this market and when you see the new '09 F-150 you'll agree this won't change soon.
Did you realize that both GM and Ford offer more hybrid models than Nissan or Honda. Between 2005 and 2007, Ford alone has invested more than $22 billion in research and development of technologies such as Eco Boost, flex fuel, clean diesel, hybrids, plug in hybrids and hydrogen cars.
It's 2008 and the quality of the vehicles coming out of Detroit are once again the best in the world.
Perhaps Sen. Shelby isn't really that blind. Maybe he realizes the quality shift to American. Maybe it's the fact that his state of Alabama has given so much to land factories from Honda, Hyundai and Mercedes Benz that he is more concerned about their continued growth than he is about the people of our country. Sen. Shelby's disdain for "government subsidies" is very hypocritical. In the early '90s he was the driving force behind a $253 million incentive package to Mercedes. Plus, Alabama agreed to purchase 2,500 vehicles from Mercedes. While the bridge loan the Big Three is requesting will be paid back, Alabama's $180,000-plus per job was pure incentive. Sen. Shelby, not only are you out of touch, you are a self-serving hypocrite, who is prepared to ruin our nation because of lack of knowledge and lack of due diligence in making your opinions and decisions.
After 9/11, the Detroit Three and Harley Davidson gave $40 million-plus emergency vehicles to the recovery efforts. What was given to the 9/11 relief effort by the Asian and European Auto Manufactures? $0 Nada. Zip!
We live in a world of free trade, world economy and we have not been able to produce products as cost efficiently. While the governments of other auto producing nations subsidize their automakers, our government may be ready to force its demise. While our automakers have paid union wages, benefits and legacy debt, our Asian competitors employ cheap labor. We are at an extreme disadvantage in production cost. Although many UAW concessions begin in 2010, many lawmakers think it's not enough.
Some point the blame to corporate management. I would like to speak of Ford Motor Co. The company has streamlined by reducing our workforce by 51,000 since 2005, closing 17 plants and cutting expenses. Product and future product is excellent and the company is focused on one Ford. This is a company poised for success. Ford product quality and corporate management have improved light years since the nightmare of Jacques Nasser. Thank you Alan Mulally and the best auto company management team in the business.
The financial collapse caused by the secondary mortgage fiasco and the greed of Wall Street has led to a $700 billion bailout of the industry that created the problem. AIG spent nearly $1 million on three company excursions to lavish resorts and hunting destinations. Paulson is saying no to $250 billion foreclosure relief and the whole thing is a mess. So when the Big Three ask for 4 percent of that of the $700 billion, $25 billion to save the country's largest industry, there is obviously oppositions. But does it make sense to reward the culprits of the problem with $700 billion unconditionally, and ignore the victims?
As a Ford dealer, I feel our portion of the $25 billion will never be touched and is not necessary. Ford currently has $29 billion of liquidity. However, the effect of a bankruptcy by GM will hurt the suppliers we all do business with. A Chapter 11 bankruptcy by any manufacture would cost retirees their health care and retirements. Chances are GM would recover from Chapter 11 with a better business plan with much less expense. So who foots the bill if GM or all three go Chapter 11? All that extra health care, unemployment, loss of tax base and some forgiven debt goes back to the taxpayer, us. With no chance of repayment, this would be much worse than a loan with the intent of repayment.
So while it is debatable whether a loan or Chapter 11 is better for the Big Three, a $25 billion loan is definitely better for the taxpayers and the economy of our country.
So I'll end where I began on the quality of the products of Detroit. Before you, Mr. or Ms. Journalist continue to misinform the American public and turn them against one of the great industries that helped build this nation, I must ask you one question. Before you, Mr. or Madam Congressman vote to end health care and retirement benefits for 1 million retirees, eliminate 2.5 million of our nation's jobs, lose the technology that will lead us in the future and create an economic disaster including hundreds of billions of tax dollars lost, I ask this question not in the rhetorical sense. I ask it in the sincere, literal way. Can you tell me, have you driven a Ford lately?
- Jim Jackson

***UPDATE**
Here is a link to Jim Jackson's interview on Fox News:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hAOGHmgTuv8

Geek Love

Not sure why, but I think this is funny.

Giving Thanks

Here's an interesting story from the Kids section of the LA Times:
--Click Here--

When you were in school, did they teach you that Thanksgiving was about how the 'Indians' saved the Pilgrims and the Pilgrims were so happy, they had a feast?
I was.


This isn't really well taught in schools...and hasn't been for as long as I've been alive.

No More Politics

Ok, that's it for the politics for this blog.
I'm gonna start a different blog to handle that stuff.

President Elect Obama - another comment

Seriously, I hope he does awesome.
However, I'm starting to feel a bit sorry for the guy.
Everyone I've talked to or read who are Obama supporters seem to think the guy farts rainbows and unicorns.
Seriously, he's only human folks. Much to the chagrin of 53% of the voters think, the guy isn't the messiah.

(BTW, 53% is neither a landslide nor a mandate.)

President Elect Obama

Well, I guess that's that!
While I'm not particularly happy with the result, I'm very happy it's over.
The republicans got their hats handed to them last night, and, for the most part deserved it. I'm not sure how, in a state that's been governed by Democrats for several years, that's had the worst economy of the whole country for much of that time, how it could be that the ruling party PICKS UP SEATS! The only answer is that the morons the republicans ran against the morons that are in state government were, well, morons.

That said, I know people who are SCARED now. Very scared.
Scared for the auto industry, which is my personal Bread and Butter.
Scared for their future where they believe they will be targeted for higher taxes.
Scared for a future where government bureaucrats decide what health care they will receive.
Scared for the further indoctrination of their children regarding issues that are strongly held, either religious, personal or both.

To that, I say....Let's wait and see.
Sen Obama won, and now let's see what he'll do with it. Give him a chance...we've got no choice.
For this, I have a great example of what can happen.

The last time the Dems had this much power was (anyone? anyone?): 1992.
Bill Clinton was elected Presmenent and both Houses of Congress were controlled by democrats. And they got all frisky.
If you remember, there was talk of nationalizing health care (Hillary was put in charge of that), there was talk of raising taxes to fund more social programs, particularly drug awareness and family planning. As well as huge deficits "as far as the eye could see" was the quote of the day back then.
All that changed with the Contract With America, Newt Gingrich and the 1994 Republican House and Senate victories.
What we ended up with was 6 years of: lower taxes, welfare reforms and *gasp* a balanced budget (for like 15 minutes).
We also ended up with a Smoking hot economy, a wildly successful auto industry, a housing market that just recently busted and 401(k) plans that went through the roof.
We won't mention the bombing of our embassies, the USS Cole nor the first bombing of the World Trade Center...I only bring those up to remind everyone that just cause a Democrat is in office doesn't mean the world loves us.

So, here's hoping Barry does well and we don't need to elect a bunch of Republicans in two years.
Or, here's hoping that he over-reaches his bounds, like Clinton, and we get an active, smart conservative movement growing in this country again and the balance of power is again shared between the two parties.
Or, here's hoping that the world hates us less and at least doesn't start bombing our stuff again.
Or, here's hoping that we move to Australia.

Vote 2008

Being a libertarian, I'm often very frustrated come Presidential elections. I generally don't completely agree with either the Democrat nor the Republican candidates and the Libertarian candidate is generally a nutter.
While Bob Barr isn't a nutter, this year I'm again on the presipice of voting against someone rather than voting for someone. Well, there is a small caveat there...(I'm looking at you Sarah)
I look at the positions and character of both the major candidates and I just can't see how I could possibly pull the lever for Obama.
Here's what I look at:

McCain Cons:
He leans WAY to far left for me: McCain-Fiengold Campaign Finance Reform and McCain-Kennedy Immigration Reform are just two examples where John McCain leans across the aisle to find common ground...but in both cases the resulting efforts were bad.
He's wrong on energy. Drill here, drill now.

McCain Pros:
His stance on the surge was spot on. If he's elected, we'll be out of Irag by the summer. And we'll have won.

He's promised to try and extend the Bush tax cuts
Say what you will about the man, but he's got great character...he's stayed away from the mudslinging the Carl Rove made millions with.

Sarah Palin.
Sarah Palin.
Sarah Palin.

Obama Pros:
He reads a mean speech.

Obama Cons:
His judgment: The people he has surrounded himself with his ENTIRE political career are either criminals or extreme leftists or both.

His stance on the surge. If he's elected we'll be out of Iraq by the summer. And we'll have lost.

He's dead wrong on energy, even to the point where he told the San Francisco Chronicle that he'd LIKE to destroy the entire coal industry. Fun.

We can argue about Abortion all day...fine. However in the Illinois legislature he supported denying care to babies that were to be aborted but something went wrong and they WERE BORN!!! Understand this: This man voted to make it law that if a baby was to be aborted, but was born alive anyway, all care was removed from this baby and it was put in a seperate room (closet) to die....alone. Dude.

His experience: He was on the national level for 177 days before he decided to run for President. That alone stuns me.

Finally, he said (I heard him) that the Constitution is a flawed document of negative rights. That the constitution does a fine job of saying what the government cannot do to it's citizens but doesn't say anything about what it should do to or for them. Um...actually, that's all the constitution does...it PROTECTS OUR RIGHTS. That's pretty positive to me. This shows a fundamental difference in understanding the constitution betweem myself and Mr. Obama.

I'd love to see someone run for president who:
Thinks that the country is WAY over taxed and over regulated
Trusts it's citizens enough to not treat them like infants (I'm looking at you Patriot Act)
Understands that Supply Side economics not only works, but works better than anything else ever tried.
Realizes that people have a Right to ACCESS health care, but not a right TO health care. (BIG DIFFERENCE)
By extension-realize what a right is, and not pander to the lowest common denominator.

Harrison Bergeron

There are a few (non-Bible-centric) stories that shaped my thinking early on in life. They include:
Leiningen versus the Ants
Rikki-Tikki-Tavi
The Cask of Amontillado
To the Virgins, Make Much of Time
Harlem
among many others...
However, the one that has effected me the most, is the story of Harrison Bergeron.


Harrison Bergeron


by Kurt Vonnegut (1961)


THE YEAR WAS 2081, and everybody was finally equal. They weren’t only equal before God and the law. They were equal every which way. Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else. All this equality was due to the 211th, 212th, and 213th Amendments to the Constitution, and to the unceasing vigilance of agents of the United States Handicapper General.


Some things about living still weren’t quite right, though. April, for instance, still drove people crazy by not being springtime. And it was in that clammy month that the H-G men took George and Hazel Bergeron’s fourteen-year-old son, Harrison, away.


It was tragic, all right, but George and Hazel couldn’t think about it very hard. Hazel had a perfectly average intelligence, which meant she couldn’t think about anything except in short bursts. And George, while his intelligence was way above normal, had a little mental handicap radio in his ear. He was required by law to wear it at all times. It was tuned to a government transmitter. Every twenty seconds or so, the transmitter would send out some sharp noise to keep people like George from taking unfair advantage of their brains.


George and Hazel were watching television. There were tears on Hazel’s cheeks, but she’d forgotten for the moment what they were about.


On the television screen were ballerinas.


A buzzer sounded in George’s head. His thoughts fled in panic, like bandits from a burglar alarm.


“That was a real pretty dance, that dance they just did,” said Hazel.


“Huh?” said George.


“That dance – it was nice,” said Hazel.


“Yup,” said George. He tried to think a little about the ballerinas. They weren’t really very good – no better than anybody else would have been, anyway. They were burdened with sashweights and bags of birdshot, and their faces were masked, so that no one, seeing a free and graceful gesture or a pretty face, would feel like something the cat drug in. George was toying with the vague notion that maybe dancers shouldn’t be handicapped. But he didn’t get very far with it before another noise in his ear radio scattered his thoughts.


George winced. So did two out of the eight ballerinas.


Hazel saw him wince. Having no mental handicap herself she had to ask George what the latest sound had been.


“Sounded like somebody hitting a milk bottle with a ball peen hammer,” said George.


“I’d think it would be real interesting, hearing all the different sounds,” said Hazel, a little envious. “All the things they think up.”


“Um,” said George.


“Only, if I was Handicapper General, you know what I would do?” said Hazel. Hazel, as a matter of fact, bore a strong resemblance to the Handicapper General, a woman named Diana Moon Glampers. “If I was Diana Moon Glampers,” said Hazel, “I’d have chimes on Sunday – just chimes. Kind of in honor of religion.”


“I could think, if it was just chimes,” said George.


“Well – maybe make ‘em real loud,” said Hazel. “I think I’d make a good Handicapper General.”


“Good as anybody else,” said George.


“Who knows better’n I do what normal is?” said Hazel.


“Right,” said George. He began to think glimmeringly about his abnormal son who was now in jail, about Harrison, but a twenty-one-gun salute in his head stopped that.


“Boy!” said Hazel, “that was a doozy, wasn’t it?”


It was such a doozy that George was white and trembling and tears stood on the rims of his red eyes. Two of the eight ballerinas had collapsed to the studio floor, were holding their temples.


“All of a sudden you look so tired,” said Hazel. “Why don’t you stretch out on the sofa, so’s you can rest your handicap bag on the pillows, honeybunch.” She was referring to the forty-seven pounds of birdshot in canvas bag, which was padlocked around George’s neck. “Go on and rest the bag for a little while,” she said. “I don’t care if you’re not equal to me for a while.”


George weighed the bag with his hands. “I don’t mind it,” he said. “I don’t notice it any more. It’s just a part of me.


“You been so tired lately – kind of wore out,” said Hazel. “If there was just some way we could make a little hole in the bottom of the bag, and just take out a few of them lead balls. Just a few.”


“Two years in prison and two thousand dollars fine for every ball I took out,” said George. “I don’t call that a bargain.”


“If you could just take a few out when you came home from work,” said Hazel. “I mean – you don’t compete with anybody around here. You just set around.”


“If I tried to get away with it,” said George, “then other people’d get away with it and pretty soon we’d be right back to the dark ages again, with everybody competing against everybody else. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”


“I’d hate it,” said Hazel.


“There you are,” said George. “The minute people start cheating on laws, what do you think happens to society?”


If Hazel hadn’t been able to come up with an answer to this question, George couldn’t have supplied one. A siren was going off in his head.


“Reckon it’d fall all apart,” said Hazel.


“What would?” said George blankly.


“Society,” said Hazel uncertainly. “Wasn’t that what you just said?”


“Who knows?” said George.


The television program was suddenly interrupted for a news bulletin. It wasn’t clear at first as to what the bulletin was about, since the announcer, like all announcers, had a serious speech impediment. For about half a minute, and in a state of high excitement, the announcer tried to say, “Ladies and gentlemen – ”


He finally gave up, handed the bulletin to a ballerina to read.


“That’s all right –” Hazel said of the announcer, “he tried. That’s the big thing. He tried to do the best he could with what God gave him. He should get a nice raise for trying so hard.”


“Ladies and gentlemen” said the ballerina, reading the bulletin. She must have been extraordinarily beautiful, because the mask she wore was hideous. And it was easy to see that she was the strongest and most graceful of all the dancers, for her handicap bags were as big as those worn by two-hundred-pound men.


And she had to apologize at once for her voice, which was a very unfair voice for a woman to use. Her voice was a warm, luminous, timeless melody. “Excuse me – ” she said, and she began again, making her voice absolutely uncompetitive.


“Harrison Bergeron, age fourteen,” she said in a grackle squawk, “has just escaped from jail, where he was held on suspicion of plotting to overthrow the government. He is a genius and an athlete, is under–handicapped, and should be regarded as extremely dangerous.”


A police photograph of Harrison Bergeron was flashed on the screen – upside down, then sideways, upside down again, then right side up. The picture showed the full length of Harrison against a background calibrated in feet and inches. He was exactly seven feet tall.


The rest of Harrison’s appearance was Halloween and hardware. Nobody had ever worn heavier handicaps. He had outgrown hindrances faster than the H–G men could think them up. Instead of a little ear radio for a mental handicap, he wore a tremendous pair of earphones, and spectacles with thick wavy lenses. The spectacles were intended to make him not only half blind, but to give him whanging headaches besides.


Scrap metal was hung all over him. Ordinarily, there was a certain symmetry, a military neatness to the handicaps issued to strong people, but Harrison looked like a walking junkyard. In the race of life, Harrison carried three hundred pounds.


And to offset his good looks, the H–G men required that he wear at all times a red rubber ball for a nose, keep his eyebrows shaved off, and cover his even white teeth with black caps at snaggle–tooth random.


“If you see this boy,” said the ballerina, “do not – I repeat, do not – try to reason with him.”


There was the shriek of a door being torn from its hinges.


Screams and barking cries of consternation came from the television set. The photograph of Harrison Bergeron on the screen jumped again and again, as though dancing to the tune of an earthquake.


George Bergeron correctly identified the earthquake, and well he might have – for many was the time his own home had danced to the same crashing tune. “My God –” said George, “that must be Harrison!”


The realization was blasted from his mind instantly by the sound of an automobile collision in his head.


When George could open his eyes again, the photograph of Harrison was gone. A living, breathing Harrison filled the screen.


Clanking, clownish, and huge, Harrison stood in the center of the studio. The knob of the uprooted studio door was still in his hand. Ballerinas, technicians, musicians, and announcers cowered on their knees before him, expecting to die.


“I am the Emperor!” cried Harrison. “Do you hear? I am the Emperor! Everybody must do what I say at once!” He stamped his foot and the studio shook.


“Even as I stand here –” he bellowed, “crippled, hobbled, sickened – I am a greater ruler than any man who ever lived! Now watch me become what I can become!”


Harrison tore the straps of his handicap harness like wet tissue paper, tore straps guaranteed to support five thousand pounds.


Harrison’s scrap–iron handicaps crashed to the floor.


Harrison thrust his thumbs under the bar of the padlock that secured his head harness. The bar snapped like celery. Harrison smashed his headphones and spectacles against the wall.


He flung away his rubber–ball nose, revealed a man that would have awed Thor, the god of thunder.


“I shall now select my Empress!” he said, looking down on the cowering people. “Let the first woman who dares rise to her feet claim her mate and her throne!”


A moment passed, and then a ballerina arose, swaying like a willow.


Harrison plucked the mental handicap from her ear, snapped off her physical handicaps with marvelous delicacy. Last of all, he removed her mask.


She was blindingly beautiful.


“Now” said Harrison, taking her hand, “shall we show the people the meaning of the word dance? Music!” he commanded.


The musicians scrambled back into their chairs, and Harrison stripped them of their handicaps, too. “Play your best,” he told them, “and I’ll make you barons and dukes and earls.”


The music began. It was normal at first – cheap, silly, false. But Harrison snatched two musicians from their chairs, waved them like batons as he sang the music as he wanted it played. He slammed them back into their chairs.


The music began again and was much improved.


Harrison and his Empress merely listened to the music for a while – listened gravely, as though synchronizing their heartbeats with it.


They shifted their weights to their toes.


Harrison placed his big hands on the girl’s tiny waist, letting her sense the weightlessness that would soon be hers.


And then, in an explosion of joy and grace, into the air they sprang!


Not only were the laws of the land abandoned, but the law of gravity and the laws of motion as well.


They reeled, whirled, swiveled, flounced, capered, gamboled, and spun.


They leaped like deer on the moon.


The studio ceiling was thirty feet high, but each leap brought the dancers nearer to it. It became their obvious intention to kiss the ceiling.


They kissed it.


And then, neutralizing gravity with love and pure will, they remained suspended in air inches below the ceiling, and they kissed each other for a long, long time.


It was then that Diana Moon Glampers, the Handicapper General, came into the studio with a double-barreled ten-gauge shotgun. She fired twice, and the Emperor and the Empress were dead before they hit the floor.


Diana Moon Glampers loaded the gun again. She aimed it at the musicians and told them they had ten seconds to get their handicaps back on.


It was then that the Bergerons’ television tube burned out.


Hazel turned to comment about the blackout to George.


But George had gone out into the kitchen for a can of beer.


George came back in with the beer, paused while a handicap signal shook him up. And then he sat down again. “You been crying?” he said to Hazel.


“Yup,” she said,


“What about?” he said.


“I forget,” she said. “Something real sad on television.”


“What was it?” he said.


“It’s all kind of mixed up in my mind,” said Hazel.


“Forget sad things,” said George.


“I always do,” said Hazel.


“That’s my girl,” said George. He winced. There was the sound of a riveting gun in his head.


“Gee – I could tell that one was a doozy,” said Hazel.


“You can say that again,” said George.


“Gee –” said Hazel, “I could tell that one was a doozy.”

The Stuff Of Nightmares!

No, no, no...not an Obama-Biden Administration!
How about a GIANT BIRD EATING SPIDER!!!
Dear Lord this is spooky:

Read the whole story HERE.
It's not unheard of (in Australia) to have this happen but it's rare.

Note to self: Australia may be a nice place to visit, but you don't want to live there!

We Win!

Ok, I've been following the difference in the weather between Oakland California and Wayne Michigan for the last 3 years. In all that time, I think this is only the second or third time that we've had a better 4 day stretch of weather (not withstanding the temperature) than they have:


Now, if only John McCain can have as nice of a 4 days stretch as Wayne....

ATM Procedures....

A new sign in the Bank Lobby reads:
'Please note that this Bank is installing new Drive-through ATM machines enabling customers to withdraw cash without leaving their vehicles.

Customers using this new facility are requested to use the procedures outlined below when accessing their accounts.

After months of careful research, MALE & FEMALE Procedures have been developed. Please follow the appropriate steps for your gender.'
MALE PROCEDURE:

1. Drive up to the cash machine.
2. Put down your car window.
3. Insert card into machine and enter PIN.
4. Enter amount of cash required and withdraw.
5. Retrieve card, cash and receipt.
6. Put window up.
7. Drive off.
FEMALE PROCEDURE:

1. Drive up to cash machine.
2. Reverse and back up the required amount to align car window with the machine.
3. Set parking brake, put the window down.
4. Find handbag, remove all contents on to passenger seat to locate card.
5. Tell person on cell phone you will call them back and hang up.
6. Attempt to insert card into machine.
7. Open car door to allow easier access to machine due to its excessive distance from the car.
8. Insert card.
9. Re-insert card the right way.
10. Dig through handbag to find diary with your PIN written on the inside back page.
11. Enter PIN.
12. Press cancel and re-enter correct PIN.
13. Enter amount of cash required.
14. Check makeup in rear view mirror.
15. Retrieve cash and receipt.
16. Empty handbag again to locate wallet and place cash inside.
17. Write debit amount in check register and place receipt in back of checkbook.
18. Re-check makeup.
19. Drive forward 2 feet..
20. Reverse back to cash machine.
21. Retrieve card.
22. Re-empty hand bag, locate card holder, and place card into the slot provided!
23. Give dirty look to irate male driver waiting behind you.
24. Restart stalled engine and pull off.
25. Redial person on cell phone.
26. Drive for 2 to 3 miles.
27. Release Parking Brake.

Editorial note by Donnie:
I know lots and lots of women. None of them, NOT ONE, of them would act like this.
They would never use their parking brakes!

More Boston Globe Pics

Ok,if you don't find these awesome (or at least cool) then you don't like babies either.
And, you're mean.
And you dress funny.
Click through for some sweet wildlife photos, like:


and



I love that site.

This is for you honey!

From xkdc this morning

Here Comes The Sun

My favorite photo blog had some new pics up yesterday. There are 21 pictures of the sun during some of it's most 'active' times.
Apparently, right now, the sun is fairly quite. That's kind of an odd thought. The sun just kind of seems, you know....there. Not really 'active' or 'in-active'. Just there. Far out.

The Best We Can Do

Three Hundred MILLION people in this country, and these two clowns are the best we can come up with for President? Depressing.

Joke? Hmmm....

Question: What do Barak Obama and Osama Bin Laden have in common?
Answer: They both count as friends people who have bombed the Pentagon
I'm just sayin'....

WHAT DO YOU WANT? Um, a sandwich? WHEN DO YOU WANT IT? Whenever's ok.

Here in the Metro Detroit Area, we are well familiar with the Labor Movement. Between the UAW, the different teachers unions, the Teamsters etc. we've seen strikes and threats of strikes for longer than I've been alive.
I can even remember my mother putting a sandwich board kind of placard on me when I was young to march in front of the Board of Education in my neighborhood.
Today is the first day of school for my kids. We were wondering if it would start because of the threat of a strike by the teachers. Now, I'm not gonna pick sides, cause I don't know enough about either sides issues, but last week on one of my favorite blogs, a cartoon about strike picketing was posted and I thought I would share it here with you:

Click to view the whole page and surf a bit!

Don't Beat Around The Bush....

HOW TO START EACH DAY WITH A POSITIVE OUTLOOK
1. Open a new file in your computer.

2. Name it 'Barack Obama'.

3. Send it to the Recycle Bin.

4. Empty the Recycle Bin.

5. Your PC will ask you: 'Do you really want to get rid of 'Barack Obama?'

6. Firmly Click 'Yes.'

7. Feel better?


GOOD! - Tomorrow we'll do Nancy Pelosi


Thanks Sis Kathy!!!!

Perspective....

keep watching...you'll see.