Microsoft’s business plan has always been: Embrace. Extend. Then Extinguish.

Please.

It would have been nicer if Amtrak got to build its line instead.

Neutral: I mostly fly in aisle seats, but I always want a window seat on a redeye. Roll up a windbreaker to put between my head and the wall and I sleep like a baby in that Big Blue Bedroom until I feel the plane descend.

This shitbox certainly will.

But in the previous episode when Roy wanted a promise, Dot promised that she would kill him.

That’s why the idea of Roy clearing the house was nonsensical.

In the Before Times, a shabby mini-pickup for $6 grand would be pure Crack Pipe (an expression from the Before Times for Spam-Feller, so quite apropos).

I saw a wagon he built for one of the resorts upstate in Maine. It got an 8.8, and while it was a rather messy autocrosser, I imagine it was a terror on the crowned two-lane blacktop up in Maine ski country.

Mustang/Explorer 8.8 rear. You get a strong rear that can stand up to what your Ford Windsor 5.0 or LS can put to it, and strong aftermarket support for upgrades if stock just ain’t enough.

That’s cute.

But $6 grand is a lot of money for two leather seats ... and if you want to spend that much on a couple leather chairs, you’d do well to visit a furniture store and pass on this Maser’s questionable mechanical bits.

Keeps them from flat-spotting. These things are more pop art sculpture than track cars anyway.

This is a Nice Price, but the first things I’d do would be to get rid of that coffee table hung over the rear deck, hoping it wasn’t “functional” enough to cause more damage to the fiberglass than plugging the holes that mounted it.

Nothing, if it’s a Tesla company vehicle.

That’s no rock-hopper. That’s some concrete cowboy’s chrome plated cock extension.

See, I’m more from the lease it new instead of buying it new school of thought.

I wish. It was the pretext for checking if I was wearing my seatbelt, then jacking me up for getting a Masshole DL and plates before he ran me in the next time.

No it’s not.

My favorite one was when a suburban Boston cop told me “I thought your license plates were expired, but they’re not.”