I’m tuning in to make sure she is really dead.

A Raleigh Twenty folder modified to fit 20 x 2.6 and a pinion 18 speed gearbox.

Buy it, install a mattress and use it to fuck the Velma in you life.

He won't fuck you.

I didn’t compare Madisynn to the Beatles. I compared you to my middle-aged grandfather. It was a sweet, referential moment that we could have shared and understood. Instead you’re being this...

...he projected. Again.

I hit the nail on the head. That is why you cannot drop it.

Projecting your own anger like that? Sad.

No. You were a grumpy old man already.

What are mourners doing on Lifehacker dot com when they should be tearing their clothes and gnashing their teeth?

Or you’re a grumpy old man and they didn’t make this for you.

There was a day long ago.

As Ginger St. James.

There is a difference between the weight you can put on the roof of a car you plan on driving (especially at highway speed) and the weight you can put on a parked car.

I look forward to seeing her retirement tour at a handicap accessible venue.

Autonomous cars were always a cash grab. Stroke the ego of a venture capital dipshit (plenty of them are dipshits.) Tell them that they will fund the George Jetson future and enjoy the windfall.

I want to GMC Typhoon this.

Morris Marina.

I knew a guy with a double asshole. He needed a special toilet seat.

Especially the part about ritual combat.