Want something absolutely aww-ful for Halloween?

Click here.

(I might have ripped it off except the guy just blogrolled me and I didn't want to tick him off. Yet.)

Trick o' Treat!!!

It's Florida-Georgia Weekend!

Jacksonville may be an NFL city now but it's college football that still reigns supreme, especially when it comes to the Florida-Georgia game.

If you are a Gator fan it is the Florida-Georgia game; a "Dawg," the Georgia-Florida game. Sportscasters simply refer to it as "The World's Biggest Outdoor Cocktail Party."

The teams come to Jacksonville, historically the neutral site required for the decades-old classic, because neither team nor its fans can agree on anything including how many years they've played each other.

As the game approaches, the populace is no longer demographically black or white, male or female but clearly divided between the orange and blue of the Florida Gators (or "The Gators" and anyone rooting against Georgia) and the red and black of the Georgia Bulldogs (or "Dawgs," "The Dawgs," "The Junkyard Dawgs," and everyone rooting against Florida).

Beginning days ahead of each game when the recreational vehicles begin to surround the Gator Bowl (Jacksonville Municipal Stadium, rebuilt for Jacksonville Jaguars and renamed Jacksonville Municipal Stadium, then re-renamed Alltel Stadium — but no one calls it that today) and lasting until Sunday, the day after the game, college football further cements its importance.

This year's game, last year's game, the game 25 or 40 years ago. That's all anyone talks about, fights about, and brags or cries about. People and vehicles of all shapes and sizes are festooned in team colors. Hotels, restaurants, and stores are filled with people who speak only to two phrases: "Go Gators! Beat them Dawgs!" or "Go Dawgs! Beat them Gators!"

By Saturday night when the game is over, one team will double their vocabulary by adding, "Wait 'til next year!"

On Sunday morning, fans awake from a night celebrating a win and as important, a year's worth of bragging rights; or a night spent drowning their sorrows because not only did their team lose, they have a year ahead of the other team's brutal bragging to endure.

And then all the visitors leave for home to make plans for their return next year.

A few years ago Hubby's Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Shirley, both in their 70s, visited from upstate New York. Their arrival coincided with Florida-Georgia weekend. For four days they were confronted with, and more and more lost and confused by, an entire city gone mad yelling only "Go Gators!" or "Go Dawgs!"

So Hubby and I bought each of them a Gator T-shirt.

Their eyes glazed. They walked tall and strong. Their entire vocabulary shortened to only two words, "Go Gators!"

No longer were they mere visitors. They had discovered what we found years before: in the world of football whether college or pro, there is nothing like Northeast Florida and Florida-Georgia.

Oops. Gotta go. Game's coming on . . .

GO GATORS!

LATER:

Florida Gators 14
Georgia Bulldogs 10

Hurricane Wilma: Aftermath

No, this isn't a traditional round-up of Florida bloggers checking in after Wilma came through.

It's selected links to Florida bloggers who are more than a tad perturbed not because the gummint wasn't there to take care of them. No, they're bothered by so many who didn't lift a finger because they expected the gummint to.

Since this is my blog, I'm leading off with . . . ME!

When I wasn't speaking colorfully at the television, I was rolling my eyes with each heartrending story broadcast. Is this our future?

TGOO, filling in for Boudicca after her power went out, shared a conversation he'd had with her: Where do we find these people?. When later she had power again, Boudicca did what she seldom does. She raised her sword on high warning that she's " ... pissed as hell".

Steve, at Hog on Ice, who still doesn't have power and has no idea when it will be restored is as always . . . Steve!

You know what I want to know, assmonkeys? Where were you last week when ice was available on every corner? Where were you when the stores were all open and you could buy all the water you wanted? Yes, okay, FEMA blew it by letting supplies run out for half a day. What about your sorry ass blowing it all last week?

As direct but far more polite is Florida Cracker here and here.

With apologies to CCR, there IS a bad moon rising for those who believe a nanny-state is the way things should be.

FutureNews

WASHINGTON, DC In a move to reduce the mounting criticisms stemming from FEMA's continued failures to provide disaster relief within 5 hours and 23 seconds, President George W. Bush today announced he would ask Congress to pass legislation creating of the Pre-Disaster Response Program.

"We can not continue with this haphazard method of providing much needed supplies and assistance to our citizens when they are most in need," he said at the Rose Garden press conference. "We're always arriving after disaster has struck. That's not good enough."

Instead of pre-positioning emergency supplies outside of a possible disaster area and then transporting materials to distribution sites, the program would allow those who will potentially be affected to pre-order online the supplies and debit cards they think they'll need.

The plan is simple, a White House official said. Instead of waiting until after, the supplies will be delivered to the households of those requesting assistance who think they could be affected by a disaster before it occurs. All anyone will have to do is go online and enter how many cases of MREs, bottles of water, generators, gallons of gasoline or debit cards they'll need. No more delays, the official said. Everything will already be there.

"It's a start," said Sen. Barbara Boxer (D-Calif), "but it doesn't go far enough." Since all of California is under constant threat of some form of disaster, she said, earthquakes, fires, floods, mud slides, Arnold Schwarzenegger, it places too much of a burden on Californians who, under this proposal, would have to be online constantly in order to obtain their supplies in advance. "They should have to register only once," she continued. "After that, the supplies are shipped regularly . . . like The Book of the Month Club works."

Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR) executive director Nihad Awad blasted the proposal saying it would be further evidence of the Bush administration's intolerance toward Muslims, unless a wide selection of pork-free MREs is guaranteed. "Being able to order something besides lima beans and ham isn't good enough," he said. "In order ensure that our food is Halaal, completely separate manufacturing plants will also be required."

Senator Edward Kennedy (D-Mass) called the proposal short sighted. "Does President Bush think people drink only water? Does he really expect people to put up with no ice in their drinks?"

Recalling his childhood in North Carolina as the son of a mill worker, former Senator and Vice Presidential candidate John Edwards (D) said the proposal to pre-order emergency supplies online will be unworkable unless steps are first taken to close the digital divide between the two worlds. "My father was a mill worker," Edwards said. "Growing up, I don't remember ever having a personal computer."

Echoing his former running mate, Senator John Kerry (D-Mass) announced that he has a plan.

Senate Democratic Leader Harry Reid (Nev) released a prepared statement calling upon the Bush administration to provide everyone with personal computers by rescinding the tax cuts for the rich and increasing the taxes of everyone earning anything. "The radical right wing of the Republican Party wants to prevent you from ordering your pre-disaster supplies by refusing to provide you with your own personal computers," the statement read. "We won't. And we'll also provide training on how to use them, dial-up access . . ."

"Then it's on to DSL and laptops and then Ipods and then WiFi," screamed Democratic National Committee Chairman Howard Dean. "Yeaaaaaagh!"

LATER: Linked to Wizbang's Carnival of the Trackbacks XXXV

The EYES have it.

I'm a curious mix of my mother and father when it comes to cussing. Dad didn't. The strongest oath I ever heard him utter was "JESUS!" He didn't do it often but it was a clear signal that he'd had it and someone was going to die. Or when he was done telling them off, they wished they had.

Mom, on the other hand, had a mouth that would have embarrassed a longshoreman. Although she didn't cuss when Dad was around, I grew up hearing her cuss dust bunnies she couldn't reach under a bed. It was serious, though, when she ran out of standard words and phrases and started stringing them together in very innovative combinations.

And so it was that Hubby came in from the kitchen the other day because he heard me bellowing colorfully at the television in the living room, "You blankety-blank-bloomin-blankety- blank stupid bitch!"

The woman who'd been interviewed, a U.S. citizen, had been on vacation in Cancun. She'd taken shelter someplace there when Wilma hit. Now that Wilma had passed and her lovely vacation spot in shambles, with lank stringy hair and a couple of kids (hers I assume) as a backdrop, she angrily demanded, "Where's the Mexican Army? Where's FEMA!"

I kid you not. This dumbo is in MEXICO and she can't figure out why FEMA isn't.

Meanwhile, Wilma was now taking aim at South Florida. Officials from counties in its projected path are all over the television saying that they're either getting ready or are. Jeb (a.k.a. "The Hurricane Governor") has stuff ready including emergency supplies pre-positioned in Homestead, Tampa and here in Jacksonville.

Hubby reported that some "contributing" dingbat on CNN pronounced how telling it was that while Dubya didn't care at all about Louisiana or New Orleans, that the military is already positioned and ready to go when it's the state where his brother is governor. Strangely (not really) no mention was made that "the military" is the Florida National Guard.

I got up yesterday morning and flipped on the radio. Top local news was that the first convoy of trucks carrying the pre-positioned supplies was already long gone. The next group was "staging out" now with more to follow. And more after that if it's needed, with FEMA backfilling whatever the state ran short of.

So I turn on the television in the afternoon, and the commentary is about the long lines of people waiting for supplies. Long lines. Horrible lines. I was waiting for someone to start sobbing, "Oh, the humanity!"

MRE's being distributed were gone. All out. No more available until the next group of trucks comes in. No more trucks expected until 3 o'clock!!!

I looked at my clock. It said 2:41, and yes. Same time zone.

Lets think about this, too. Hadn't Wilma hit just the day before? And already people are lining up for emergency supplies?

Look, folks. I'm not talking people who really don't have the ability to lay in 3 to 5 days worth of supplies. I've been there. We've been there. You make due as best you can on the canned goods you've stockpiled by adding a can or two of something-or-other here and there, fill with water empty plastic jugs you've hoarded, scrub and fill the bathtub, dig out the candles . . .

If the oatmeal hits the fan you turn to family, if you have 'em. Or neighbors if they offer. Local government if you have to.

But this was 24 hours after Wilma has passed through, and people were already lining up and griping.

My absolute favorite, bar none, was the woman who poked her head out of the window of her big-assed SUV, to explain why in her opinion FEMA stinks.

If they'd been prepared the way they should have been, she said, she wouldn't have to wait for her free generator. And gasoline.

Hurricane Wilma: Counting noses

After Mary Stella made the decision to "bail on the Keys" she says she felt like a wimp . . . until she learned Wilma had become a CAT 3. (I think she was just plain smart.)

It seems Steve at Hog on Ice is without power again but he says that's a regular occurance with FPL even if there's no hurricane. He still has telephone service, which he used now matter how much he hates it, to explain the fine art of "hunkering down."

As she expected Bou lost power. TGOO, posting in her stead, has been busy providing regular SITuation REPortS.

Florida Cracker liveblogged the freekin' eye and lived to tell about it.

LindaSoG interrupted her blow by blow (no pun intended) just long enough to wish an UN-happy birthday to the United Nations.

Pam, uses a laptop she's powering off her car battery to check in.

Please check the blogs I've mentioned above for additional entries, as well as those I haven't.

Me? Rain through the night well into the late morning and I have a few small branches on the ground. The sun is shining but with the temperature expected to dip into the 40s tomorrow morning, I'm already freezing my butt off.

Wilma's not done yet, though. After leaving Florida she returned to Cat 3 strength and heading nawth, is expected to play pure hell along the way and with the Northeast.

Blogging Hurricane Wilma

Bou, in addition to putting up her hurricane shutters while commenting (repeatedly and loudly) about The Suckiness of Hurricanes, has also managed to complete Version 8 of her Florida Blogger's map. If she loses power, The Great Omnipotent One (TGOO) is on standby.

If you take a quick look at Wilma and her path, you'll see just how important Bou's map is. Rather than having to rely on the idiot reporters and reporterettes news for information on the conditions before, during and after, you can get it from the real experts. (Links to many of the bloggers shown on the map can be found in my sidebar.)

Florida Cracker's ready, too, and is laying in an extra supply of potato chips to munch on, although she admits she's been eyeballing a a portly person who lives down the street from her in case things get really bad and to survive, she has to resort to cannibalism.

Mary Stella, who is sticking it out in the Keys, has decided to do something different rather than let her brain continue to atrophy from all of the weather coverage she's been watching.

Here in Northeast Florida the weather is yucky. (If yucky isn't a meteorological term I'm making it one.) It's overcast, a little on the chilly side with occasional showers.
LATER: There's a Carnival for Hurricanes?

Yep!

Hurricane Wilma: Florida's Bloggers

As I explained here, hurricanes is one of the reasons for the lengthy list of links to Florida bloggers in my sidebar. But where are they reporting from? I live here and even I can't remember!

The map you see above is Version Five (<----click for a much better image) of something Boudicca is working on.

Thanks Bou.

My alarm clock

Hubby asked me last night if I knew why I always woke up at around the same time every morning.

"Yes, dear."

Then smiling, he proceeded to explain to me in great detail (Yes, dear, I know. Yes, dear. I know!) what I already knew, that he'd observed for the very first time that morning.

After spending most of my life rising long before the sun did, I promised myself that when I retired unless I decided there was sufficient reason for me to do so, I would never — and I mean never — see another sunrise. I have kept that promise.

I seldom hear Hubby's clock radio when it goes off at 6 ayem. On the few occasions I do, I sweetly suggest to him that he turn it off fast before I smash it and him.

Da Kid's alarm I never hear. As soon as it BLASTS he's out of bed slamming it into submission because he knows . . . well, he just knows he doesn't want to buy another new one. Like clockwork, he's up somewhere between 6:45 and 7:17 ayem and out of the house 20 minutes later.

As soon as Da Kid closes the door behind him, The Wonderdog tiptoes in. If there's enough room between me and the right-hand side of the bed, he creeps into it along side me with the slow-motion stealth (His record currently stands at almost five minutes.) any cat would envy.

The dead giveaway that The Wonderdog has accomplished his mission — and he still hasn't figured out how I know he's there — is that once he's lying down, he wants more room so he can stretch out on his side. That's when he starts trying to move me over by either slamming his butt against my back or if he has enough room to use his legs for traction, he uses them as propulsion to heave his entire, almost 90-pound body against it. Repeatedly.

If, on the other hand, I'm lying on my right side on the right edge of the bed, The Wonderdog first gently nuzzles my fingers. If that doesn't work, he then licks my hand with light, puppy-like kisses. If he still hasn't achieved his goal, his next step is batting my hand around with his nose or pushing his head under it.

No, he's not trying to wake me up. His hope, I know, is that asleep I'll simply roll away from the irritation and then he can begin the process of sneaking onto the right-hand side of the bed.

What about the wide-open left-hand side of the bed?

It's never entered Starbuck's mind to even try getting up on that side of the bed. His single-cell brain just doesn't function that way.

News? That fits!

Newspapers

1. The Wall Street Journal is read by the people who run the country.

2. The Washington Post is read by people who think they run the country.

3. The New York Times is read by people who think they should run the country and who are very good at crossword puzzles.

4. USA Today is read by people who think they ought to run the country but don't really understand The New York Times. They do, however, like their statistics shown in pie charts.

5. The Los Angeles Times is read by people who wouldn't mind running the country -- if they could find the time -- and if they didn't have to leave Southern California to do it.

6. The Boston Globe is read by people whose parents used to run the country and did a far superior job of it, thank you very much.

7. The New York Daily News is read by people who aren't too sure who's running the country and don't really care as long as they can get a seat on the train.

8. The New York Post is read by people who don't care who's running the country as long as they do something really scandalous, preferably while intoxicated.

9. The Miami Herald is read by people who are running another country but need the baseball scores.

10. The San Francisco Chronicle is read by people who aren't sure there is a country ... or that anyone is running it; but if so, they oppose all that these other people, if there are any, stand for. There are occasional exceptions if the leaders are handicapped minority feminist atheist dwarfs who also happen to be illegal aliens from any other country or galaxy provided, of course, that they are not Republicans.

11. The National Enquirer is read by people trapped in line at the grocery store.

Via: Hey Joe!

And from Ace, a list of the Top Ten Proposals Being Considered To Boost NYT's Falling Profits.

Quotable Quotes

"Some of the most vocal critics of the way things are being done are people who have done nothing themselves, and whose only contributions to society are their complaints and moral exhibitionism." -- Thomas Sowell

BREAKING NEWS!

Karl Rove has a sloppy garage!

Sheesh!

Via: Breitbart

What the heck?

It worked? I did it!

Okay, I screwed up the crop-job but heck. You know I don't know what I'm doing.

Roger at Curmudgeonly & Skeptical explains.

A rose terrorist by any other name ...

Mark Steyn notes the impact of multiculturism on reporting:

When the NPR report [on terrorist attacks] started, I was driving on the vast open plains of I-91 in Vermont and reckoned, just to make things interesting, I'll add another five miles to the speed for every minute that goes by without mentioning Islam. But I couldn't get the needle to go above 130, and the vibrations caused the passenger-side wing-mirror to drop off.

More here.

The color purple

Young and old, in traditional dress, uniform or western attire, Iraqis went to the polls today to vote Yes or No on a draft constitution. Like last year their numbers put us to shame. How many? According to Al Jazeera perhaps 10 million. That may not sound like much but estimates are that that number represents over 60 percent of those eligible.

The UN, bless their corruption-riddled hearts, notes how "incredibly peaceful" and "smooth" it went.

Even the Boston Globe managed to say something positive:

[I}f today's balloting is viewed against the backdrop of Iraq's recent history or the politics of the autocratic police states in the region, this imperfect consultation of the popular will in Iraq signifies something hopeful.. . . [T]he constitution that emerged from an elected Parliament, and that citizens may accept or reject, heralds something new and promising for Iraq and for most of its neighbors.

Will Iraq's voters signal their approval of the draft constition? Danged if I know.

Some reports hint that the Sunni's are voting in large numbers simply to say No. Since the media is always so reliable . . .

I hit what is usually the most reliable source of information on Iraq: The Iraqi Bloggers. (See my sidebar for a couple and then go on from there.) Surprisingly, some Iraqis I thought would be voting Yes said they would be voting No. The reverse is also true. Some gave their reasons, others did not.

Sooni, who also has pics, thought she would vote one way but after thinking about it, changed her mind.

I don't know if the draft constitution is a good or a bad one. It's also not up to me to say. It's up to Iraq and its people to make that decision. It's their country, not mine.

If it's approved there will be those who will sing its praise. Others won't and will claim the process was somehow flawed.

If it's not approved there will be those who will praise the decision and some who will claim the process was flawed. Still others will yammer it's proof that democracy can't be forced on people who never wanted it.

I'm going to close this with two things:

1) To those who expect that the changing of a nation by it's people can be done, start to finish, within the time allotted for a one-hour television program -- minus commercials of course -- guess again. The draft constitution Iraqi's voted on today was just that: a draft. A starting point.

Our starting point began with the Articles of Confederation, an agreement between thirteen loosely-joined, newly independent British colonies. It wasn't until over a decade later that those colonies became states, united under a constitution that all had agreed to.

And . . .

2) Tell the people shown in these photographs and others, elsewhere, that democracy is being forced on them.

Picture this?

Ed Gamble

For your reading pleasure

Sometimes the first few sentences hook you. Or maybe it's the paragraph. You immediately recognize it as something special. Instead of reading, you hear the writer's words. His voice.

When I finished the first page and saw that there were nine more, I clicked the icon for the printer-friendly version and grabbed a fresh Diet Coke. I already knew I wouldn't want an interruption.

Via Instapundit, Michael Lewis takes us with him as he goes Wading Toward Home.

I hate these things!

You will be famous for writing a national bestseller You are very observant and tend to be the wallflower at parties. You are intuitive and know just how to communicate everything that you are feeling to those around you. Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

Via: Anghara

You are Psalms.
Which book of the Bible are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Via: Norma

Quotable Quotes

"If you like the idea of Robert Mugabe setting legal standards for everyone, then [the UN's World Summit on the Information Society] is for you." -- Opinion Journal

In Memoriam

William Henry Oliver

1923-2005

"He was the father that every boy should have. He was that father that every man should be." -- billo

Just go on over and read it all.

A Tale of Two Tails

While waiting for the coffee to finish brewing this morning, I glanced at the headlines in the local paper.

The Associated Press article (dateline Miami) reported the discovery of a dining experience gone bad. Both the diner (a python) and its meal (a Florida alligator) were dead. The small black and white photo accompanying it not making any sense didn't bother me all that much. I know I'm not worth a hoot until after my second cup of java. All I saw were two tails. Maybe. It was hard to tell what I was looking at, although the description provided seemed clear:

"The python was found with the gator's hindquarters protruding from its midsection. Its stomach still surrounded the alligator's head, shoulders, and forelimbs."

It wasn't until I found the actual photo online that I realized the black and white photo I'd been looking at in the paper had been cropped. Completely missing was the darned helicopter. Holy geez! Look at the size of that gator's tail! Or, is that the . . .

Oh . . . dear . . . gawd, that's the python!

And in the larger photo if you look carefully, you can see the slight widening before the python's tail curves and a larger one before it, where the gator's head and forelimbs are.

The Miami Herald also notes in separate coverage, "As an added touch of the macabre, the snake's head was missing."

Yep! Let's send a cute beagle pup out looking for these things.

Come to think of it, has anyone heard from Python Pete or his owner recently?

I absolutely hate . . .

. . . clothes shopping. I despise it. I loathe it. And I had to go. Had to. I need something for Saturday. Not dressy but appropriate.

It doesn't matter what size I am or have been, I've always been "hard to fit."

For one thing I'm short. To make matters even worse if the bottom half fits than it's pretty much guaranteed that the upper half won't. And if I find something that fits me both on the top and the bottom, it's going to be way too long. Way too, like puddles around my feet. Saves on shoes, I guess.

Two- or three-piece mix and match is my only hope, but then there's the colors and patterns.

No, I'm not a neon sign for a Las Vegas strip joint. Sorry, I'm not a sofa, either.

Let's not forget the styles . . .

Uh, no. I'm not getting dressed up to look like Granma!

. . . or fads.

Honest, I'm really not 15!

If I can find something that fits me physically that also matches my taste, the next hurdle is price.

I am NOT paying $250 for an outfit that when the season changes in a few months will be on the sales rack for $40!

Which is pretty much what I paid today after putting together a pair of black slacks from the Summer Sales in one department, with an off-white shell, and instead of staying with off-white going instead with a coordinated (same ribbing, same material, same 60-percent-off table) deep aqua-ish "jacket."

My next expedition is for shoes and a matching purse. I know exactly what I want, but this time I don't have to go shopping. I know they're somewhere on the top shelf in the bedroom closet, which is where I stuffed all of those boxes when I retired.

All I have to do is find them.

One

A year ago today I tried to get a sign-on so I could leave a comment on Jenna's blog, and discovered I was inadvertently creating one of my own.

I didn't want one but I kept filling out stuff as screen followed screen. And there it was. And here it still is a year later.

I'd done some guest blogging at The Tocquevillian and written a couple of articles there for Wayne, who patiently explained (sometimes repeatedly) to me really technical things like how to make words appear certain ways, like in bold or italics. He was smart enough, though, to know his limits. Not his but mine.

He'd left the explanations of more complex things like linking to the The Lizard. Which was really a smart move. Lizards regenerate lost appendages and I'm sure there were times she bit her fingers toes to the quick and beyond trying to figure out another way to explain something so that I'd finally, MAYBE understand it.

Still, blogs were knew to me. Yeah, I'd read several and some on a routine basis. And then I ended up with one of my own. Both Wayne and Jenna said to get busy writing.

There were other things first, though. Like, okay Jenna. You put a link to me on your blog. How do I put one on mine back to you? Cool! Now what?

I kept telling myself, and posted repeatedly, that I wasn't going to keep it. Buuuut an election was coming up. I'd just keep going through the election. When Dubya won (PLEASE LET HIM WIN!) I'd stop. He won but then something else came up and I kept on going. Somewhere along the way, I forgot about deleting ACC. I recognized the truth for what it was. I'd become a blogger.

Why keep going? I don't know.

Maybe part of it is on occasion I've gotten a comment that's said what I'd written made someone think about a particular subject from an angle they hadn't considered before. Or maybe a comment that some silly thing had picked up someone's day.

It's a two-way street, though. I get back from all of you so much more, like with what's going on with Tank.

So to all of you, and there are too many of youse to mention, as A Cool Change marks its first Blogiverary, thank you.

Quotable Quotes

"Hurricane week was in large part a week of drivel, mostly the bizarre fantasies of New Orleans' incompetent police chief but amplified hugely by a gullible media. Given everything we now know they got wrong in Louisiana, where they speak the language, how likely is it that the great blundering herd are getting it any more accurate in Iraq?" -- Mark Steyn

I hate these things!

You are Calvin's MOM! You are a good person inside,
though you like to do what any person would.
The average life.


Which CALVIN & HOBBES character YOU?
brought to you by Quizilla

Via: Boudicca's Voice

Car shopping

Nope, not me! Remember? I just bought one.

Pam, on the other hand, is hunting amid the critters that call used car lots home.

Sage advice

Stress Management...

Accept that some days you're the pigeon, and some days you're the statue.

Always keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you have to eat them.

Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.

Drive carefully. It's not only cars that can be recalled by their maker.

If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.

If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it.

It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others.

Never buy a car you can't push.

Never put both feet in your mouth at the same time, because then you won't have a leg to stand on.

Since it's the early worm that gets eaten by the bird, sleep late.

When everything's coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.

Birthdays are good for you. The more you have, the longer you live.

Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once.

We could learn a lot from crayons... Some are sharp, some are pretty and some are dull. Some have weird names, and all are different colors, but they all have to live in the same box.

A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.

The second mouse gets the cheese.

Via: Hey Joe!