let's see how many memes of the day we can post

I've traveled a lot. Anyhow, the more ghetto the city or town, the more carts are left everywhere by inconsiderate turd heads.

I once heard it said that you can tell all you need to know about a man by how he:

-Treats animals

-Treats waiters at restaurants

-what does with his shopping cart after he puts his groceries in the car.  
 

I found that to be pretty accurate in my life, actually. 

I'm not surprised if that's really a thing. 

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-12870231/Congressional-staffer-gay-porn-senate-hearing-room.html

Hardly new. The author of “Unlimited Access”, a now-retired FBI agent who was assigned to the White House during the latter part of President Bush and first term of President Clinton, had numerous accounts of this stuff when President Clinton took office. Sadly, open coke use and sex in the offices were probably the least of the country’s concerns. I’d be more concerned with the Clintons systematically dismantling/obstructing the background investigation and access card processes because most of their appointee friends couldn’t pass a background…many of whom would have access to our most classified information.

Worth a read, regardless of where one falls politically.

Not a meme but The Legend HST

Holy crap

A kawasaki 750 triple on acid is really a trip...

My uncle's red barchetta.

He keeps it a farm that no one knows about.

Scary how we are quickly slipping towards the world of the song....

Thank you for the reminder and reason to play this awesome song.

*******************************************

My Uncle has a country place...

Red Barchetta

My uncle has a country place
That no one knows about
He says it used to be a farm
Before the Motor Law
And on Sundays I elude the eyes
And hop the turbine freight
To far outside the wire
Where my white-haired uncle waits


Jump to the ground
As the Turbo slows to cross the borderline
Run like the wind
As excitement shivers up and down my spine
Down in his barn
My uncle preserved for me an old machine
For fifty-odd years
To keep it as new has been his dearest dream


I strip away the old debris
That hides a shining car
A brilliant red Barchetta
From a better, vanished time
We fire up the willing engine
Responding with a roar
Tires spitting gravel
I commit my weekly crime

Wind in my hair
Shifting and drifting
Mechanical music
Adrenaline surge
Well-weathered leather
Hot metal and oil
The scented country air
Sunlight on chrome
The blur of the landscape
Every nerve aware

Suddenly, ahead of me
Across the mountainside
A gleaming alloy air-car
Shoots towards me, two lanes wide
I spin around with shrieking tires
To run the deadly race
Go screaming through the valley
As another joins the chase

Drive like the wind
Straining the limits of machine and man
Laughing out loud with fear and hope
I've got a desperate plan
At the one-lane bridge
I leave the giants stranded at the riverside
Race back to the farm
To dream with my uncle at the fireside

Meanwhile in a DC hearing room...