An engine is a beautiful thing to waste.
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“Yeah. The engines, anyway. Like ripping the heart outta Old Betsy. You see, I figured she would wind up someplace, maybe takin’ kids to school or some guy to work. An old used car, but still a car. Not a dead chunk of metal.”
We’re gonna have tens of thousands of clunkers that will never run? We’re payin’ for that?
“Right. An’ I got to thinkin’, do I want to do that to Old Betsy, tear her heart out? You see, she ran down to the dealer’s okay. Then, when I asked ‘em what they’d do with her, they told me. Five bucks worth of this silicon engine killer and it’s all over.”
You wouldn’t have to watch.
“No. Just like I don’t have to watch Iraq or Afghanistan.”
But that new car, the one you were going to trade for, gets better mileage. That’s the whole idea.
“They gonna give me forty-five hundred bucks for a couple miles a gallon better, an’ a new smell inside, and I’m supposed to hand over the keys to Betsy and let ‘em fool her into killin’ herself with trying to run like she is supposed to?”
“The hell with ‘em, and the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration too.”
With that, Uncle Pundit pulled his clunker into the garage and I went in to make him a cup of coffee.
A man of faith in a godless age is hitting Americans where it hurts.
Mr. and Mrs. American Spectator Reader, let P.J. O’Rourke talk sense to your kids.
In Britain, defending your property can get you life.
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It won’t take long for conservatives to scratch this presidential wannabe off their 2008 scorecard.
The American Christmas, like the songs that celebrate it, makes room for everybody under the rainbow. Is that why so many people seem to be hostile to it?
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