I'm down with small, quick, but not necessarily super fast two-seaters, but that Beat has a back end that only a Solara convertible could love.

You're a stand up guy, Dave. However, I would have used a different word than "prudes" with this crowd.

This guy is a freelance Gem designer too - and wants his cut of the fucking take.

What a shame, but at least one could use the hood scoop as the crack pipe.

You speak with my voice sir - with the exception that unhappily we are still getting more BES licenses for the idiots who keep buying BBs.

"No top 'at? Fuck off then, you moppet."

Cars like this and the Evo remind me of radial engined fighters of WWII - especially the P-47D Thunderbolt or the F6F-5 Hellcat. I like these cars just as I like those airplanes.

I have to admit I was thinking more in terms of the 1984 Plymouth Horizon than the Mach 1, so I will I mitigate the nomination somewhat. But the bad aerodynamics and limitation of visibility are outweighed by only the coolest of the cool cars, and I still don't like the damn things.

I'm gonna vote for a couple of the dumb things we put on the exterior of our cars in the 80's and 90's.

Come on Craggs, this year (more than any other I can think of) is the great year of schadenfreude in U.S. sports. Sports fans all across the country wanted the Steelers to lose, they wanted UConn to lose, they want the Heat to lose, and they'll sure as hell want the Red Sox to lose when they make it to the World…

Rooney was celebrating his new hair plugs a bit too effusively I fear.

That sort of thing barely worked on Rasputin - Blatter will take more drastic action.

What is the process. I look forward to hearing from you

the Confederacy was a British ally

He probably limped around in a loosely fitting garment at some point as well.

I am feeling like a Greek god.

Kids, don't post before refreshing, or you'll end up fixing games in the Italian nationwide league too.

+1

I grew up in southern Illinois among corn-fed German girls. Ah, wondrous days of youth.

Pete Rose, proving every day that moral relativism fits as well on Cincinnati as a stripey shirt does on a massive pair of jugs.