The difference between Democrats and Republicans . . .

A Republican comes in for a haircut, and when he goes to pay his bill the barber replies: "I'm sorry, I cannot accept money from you; I'm doing community service this week." The Republican is very happy and leaves the shop. The next morning when the barber goes to open, there is a thank you card and a dozen different books such as "How to Improve YourBusiness" and "Becoming More Successful."

Then a Democrat comes in for a haircut, and when he goes to pay his bill the barber again replies: "I'm sorry, I cannot accept money from you; I'm doing community service this week." The Democrat is very happy and leaves the shop. The next morning when the barber goes to open up, there are a dozen Democrats lined up waiting for a free haircut.

Unfair? Maybe, maybe not. More to come.

MEME . . .

I stole this from Gemmak, and don't feel bad about it because she purloined it first. One word answers only.

1. Where is your cell phone? Desk

2. Your significant other? Very

3. Your hair? Silver

4. Your mother? Beautiful

5. Your father? Strong

6. Your favorite thing? Today

7. Your dream last night? Weird

8. Your favorite drink? Fuki

9. Your dream/goal? Retirement

10. The room you’re in? Sun room

11. Your ex? None

12. Your fear? Claustrophobia

13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Texas

14. Where were you last night? Home

15. What you’re not? Democrat

16. Muffin? Blueberry

17. One of your wish list items? Travel

18. Where you grew up? Virden

19. The last thing you ate? Stir-fry

20. What are you wearing? Sweatpants

21. Your TV? LCD

22. Your pet? None

23. Your computer? Home-built

24. Your life? Satisfied

25. Your mood? Amused

26. Missing someone? Grandkids

27 Your car? Corvette

28. Something you’re not wearing? Shoes

29. Favorite Store? SummitRacing

30. Your summer will be? Busy

31. Ever dressed as Mama Cass with your partner as a ham sandwich? Huh?

32. Your favorite color? Red.

33. Last time you cried? When they buried Baby Grace in Norfolk. (Not one word, but I don't care)

34. What are you working on? Hotrod.

35. What last made you laugh really hard? TwoandaHalfMen.

A sign of faith . . .

. . . maybe. Read it closely, please.

A car guy . . .

. . . that's me. If it turns money into noise or speed, I'm there. I've been that way since I was sixteen and hot-rodded a 1952 Chevy. The last car I owned in high school was as 1956 Oldsmobile "Super 88" that I repainted Cadillac red and cream.

My first "real car" when I got a "real job" was a 1968 Pontiac GTO in "arrest me red." I wore out the engine, then I rebuilt it to about 450 HP. Gas was cheap. Luckily for me, I guess. The car got about six miles per gallon. When the salt and sand in Omaha ate up the paint, I repainted it in my garage.

I eventually had to sell the GTO. It was worn out again, and it wasn't the ideal family car. When I think about our cross country trips with the kids - in the days before seat belts - I get cold chills.

In the early 80's, I was out looking for another vintage GTO when I stumbled across a 1930 Ford Tudor sedan. When I hauled it into my garage, it looked like this.

After I built a new frame and suspension, swapped in modern running gear, chopped the top and painted it, it looked like this. After it was finished, a man from Harrisburg, PA saw it in a car show. Even though I told him it WAS NOT FOR SALE, he kept upping the offer until I caved. I regret it to this day.

After living without a hot rod for a few years, I just had to find another. A friend of mine did most of the work on this 1972 Chevy Pickup. It had louvers everywhere, a custom paint job, a motor with an obscene amount of horsepower, and was totally impractical. Of course, I bought it. I drove it until I wore it out, then sold it for exactly what I paid for it.

There's a story behind this race car. I was visiting a friend who owned a body shop. An acquaintance of ours had a race car to sell, and needed to sell it in a hurry. It seems he had taken out a loan on a title to a wrecked car. He missed the payments, and the bank was threatening repossession, and he was looking a fraud charges.

I made an offer that he apparently thought was too low, and he started cursing and screaming into the phone, then hung up. About 10 minutes later, he called back and said he would accept the offer. Of course, I immediately lowered my offer, and he went postal again. Fifteen minutes, he called back, but before he could say a word, I lowered the offer again - and bought the car.

When we picked up the car, it looked worse than this. It was a bare frame, with only the rear half of the body shown here. I chopped the chassis in two just ahead of the firewall, rebuilt the front end and designed the aluminum body.

When we were done, it looked like this. It had about 700 horsepower - for racing only of course. It would accelerate from 0 to 174 MPH in about 8.75 seconds. Eventually racing became way too expensive, and my partner and I sold the racing team.

I didn't have a true hot rod for a long time, then In 2003, we moved to Virginia, and I caught the bug yet again. This photo was taken a few months into the project.

A little more than three years later, after much welding, fitting, assembly, cursing, disassembly, reassembly, sanding, cursing and painting, it looks like this.

The last photo (I'm sure you're bored senseless by now) is my daily driver. Twelve years ago, I wandered into a Chevy dealer's lot in Kansas City looking to replace a pickup that just went off lease. I didn't see a pickup I liked, but I had always - as long as I can remember - wanted a red Corvette. I drove it home, and I still have it.

Radiation Hazard . . .

. . . or why the tree-hugging, sandals-with-socks, environment uber alles crowd sometimes irritates the hell out of me. Not that protecting the environment is a bad thing. Occasionally, however, some modicum of logic is required - and often is missing.

On one of my project sites, there is supposedly a buried pipe containing some radium residue. Supposedly, the location was marked, but no one can find it, and it's not on a map.

Simple to find, you say? Just get a Geiger counter and follow the clicks. Not so. It seems the decaying granite in the surrounding earth gives out more radiation than the little bit of radium in the pipe. Right now, George Carlin would be saying "hmmmmmm."

I am therefore lead, fairly willingly, to the obvious question. If there's more radiation eminating from the granite, why am I looking for the radium? Maybe I should bury more radium in the ground to mask the granite? If the ground is more radioactive than the radium, should I rub dirt on my watch dial?

If you don't know what the flags signify, go here and decode.

Wildlife . . .

I saw this little guy sitting on our front sidewalk, right in front of the door. I was a bit worried because he didn't seem to want to move. He was OK, though. When I walked out to take a better photo, he flew off.

On another note, we have a very nice sunrooom on the back of the house. Unfortunately, there's no place to sit. The bears have taken over.

Rude UK . . . From Wikipedia.

Further evdence that we're two peoples separated by a common language?

1. Cocks, Cornwall
2. Twatt, Shetland (note, there is another Twatt in Orkney)
3. Sandy Balls, a long-established holiday centre in New Forest, Hampshire, England with a name dating back to Henry VIII
4. Shitterton, Dorset, England


Of course, Canada is not exempt.

And neither is the U.S.