Parts

Jo-E the MasterMind Hyphenate

[September 3rd 2010 07:44:20 PM] its dope to start getting new fans in different parts of the world. cant wait 2 visit Ur countries & perform 4 u guys! thanks 4 supporting

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Scott Titlow

[September 3rd 2010 07:43:36 PM] Sounds like a good place to send our troops, secure our borders for a change. 100 miles into Arizona & it's not safe to be there? So what does ABM & the DOJ do? They have been trying to sue the Sheriff (w/ out success), & complain to the UN. Remember this come election time!!!

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Brennon McLain

[September 3rd 2010 07:43:32 PM] After holding out and waiting for so long I have Finlay found the parts I need to fix the rear end damage on my car already the exact color and everything!!!

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Jason Benefield

[September 3rd 2010 07:43:30 PM] Here is a snapshot of our PCS time line. Movers show up - 13 September. Tempers flare up - 14 September. Household goods move out - 15 Seep. Minefields camp out in house - 16 Sept. Somebody gets knocked out - 18 September. Lucky van ships out - 24 Sept. Minefields fly out - 25 September. Patience run out - 27 September. That is just a general outline - parts of that plan could be accelerated.

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Jennifer McFarland

[September 3rd 2010 07:43:09 PM] Just got back from the transmission shop,Not good news,My truck transmission needs a rebuild or a "soft kit" and lucky me if no hard parts are damaged it will only be $1,100.00- so for now its parked next to the'93 Camera that's broken down..UGH

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Phillip E. Hardy

[September 3rd 2010 07:42:58 PM] The Daily Grind My experience in the grinding business could be the inspiration for many stories as it was an extremely tumultuous period of my life. I had worked at this greasy place as a parts inspector along with my bi-polar father when I was twenty-three and then I quit because I hated it so much. However, a year later he talked me into coming back there to work when the ancient, feeble-minded owner made him the shop foreman. This was just the beginning of my troubles. It was a year after the Mount St. He lens volcano erupted and it was a hazy spring day in Southern California as I sat with two of my coworkers in the dingy parking lot of the Duncan Grinding Company. I remember that the June gloom laced with volcanic ash seemed to last for weeks. Only a few days earlier, Danny the interim foreman had sacked the estimator and promoted me into his job. Though there was no financial benefit for this move, it was a welcome change because it meant that I would spend much less time in the filthy shop area. A few weeks earlier, my father decided to stop taking his lithium and had descended into a nice bout of frolicking with demons and mania. As Danny, Terry another grinder who worked at the shop and I sat munching on our lunch wagon cuisine, my father pulled into the shop driveway in his big, red GM issue convertible. Undaunted by the gloomy day, he had his top down and was in chipper spirits. Danny’s eyes immediately widened as he looked into the back seat of my father’s ride, “Hey Bob, what you got there?” Terry and I both glanced in the car at the same time and noticed that he had a Winchester rifle and an old fashioned Colt 44 caliber pistol in plain sight. “Oh, that’s nothing”, my father nonchalantly answered. Danny continued on as though everything was normal and politely asked, “So how you doing Bob?” “I got half the women in town chasing me.” Robert winked at me as he proudly stepped out his car. His shirt was wrinkled with his stomach protruding out. It was bloated from fast food and too much brandy. “That’s real good Bob”, Danny answered with a hint of Kentucky drawl. “Bob, will excuse me for a moment, I have something I need to discuss with your son.” Robert smiled and leaned against his car door. “Sure Danny” The tall shop foreman quickly walked me into our front office lobby. “You got to fire your old man”, he said sternly. I looked at Danny incredulously. “Why do I have to fire him? You’re the foreman.” “He’s your old man”, Danny answered. I pondered his reply only momentarily and nodded in acknowledgment. “You got me.” For many years I had what I call “the savior complex”, as I believed that I had the innate ability to fix any emotional situation that was broken. Yep, just like a Saturday afternoon western matinee, I would come charging in and save the day as if I was the US Calvary. I will elaborate on this syndrome in greater detail during some later ing chapter. Though my father had put me through my paces during the five years leading up to this day, I still felt compelled by a sense of responsibility. During his bouts with Manic Depression, our roles as father and son became inverted. I also felt a sense of dread as I walked back out to the shop parking lot. Fortunately, he was in good spirits and had a captive audience as he regaled Terry with fabricated exploits while off his medication. I placed my hand on Terry’s shoulder, “Hey can you give me a minute with my dad?” Terry nodded in agreement, “Sure”. Eyeballing the weapons in my father’s car, I came quickly to the point. “Dad, we gotta let you go”, looking down at the concrete I quickly added “You’vie missed too much time and the shop is running without you.” I was surprised with how quickly my father acquiesced. “I understand son”, he answered, “Don’t give it a thought.” “Are you going to be alright?” I mechanically inquired. Robert pulled a thin cigar out of his top shirt pocket and mumbled out his answer while lighting it. “Sure, I got my VA pension and some money tucked away” "Alright then”, I said reaching out to shake his hand. “Hey, why don’t you let me hold those guns for you?” My father’s expression became strangely disoriented. “Yes, that’s a good idea”, he blankly answered. I quickly retrieved the mini arsenal and walked over to my car and hastily locked them in my trunk. On the following Sunday evening at around eleven o’clock, my roommate woke me up out of a sound sleep. “Your old man is at the door”, he said grimly. “Alright I answered”, as I jumped out of bed to put on my pants. I walked out to the front room and saw my father standing doorway. He was wearing a dark leisure suit and looked reasonably lucid but without much emotion. “I want my guns” he unceremoniously demanded. I turned around and went to my bedroom closet to grab his hardware and upon returning did’t attempt to mask my irritation in manner or vocal tone. “Here, take them.” Robert grasped the gun belt and rifle and smiled. “Thank you”, he answered sardonically. He put on his gun belt as if he were Doc Holli day and walked off into the dark. Two nights later, he was arrested in a Denny’s parking lot for brandishing fire arms.

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Jenni Coe

[September 3rd 2010 07:42:51 PM] This stunning boy is in Ma honing County, Ohio. They heart stick as their form of euthanasia. The shelter is full. Please post this boy so he can have a chance of making it out alive.

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Brittani McFarland

[September 3rd 2010 07:42:33 PM] Life has 3 basic parts..1st~MONEY is just mind control...2nd~MISTAKES is a learning daily base...and last but NT least OPPURTUNITIES never runs out...money dent Mk a person it helps Mk mistakes and mistakes gives u another opportunity ta Mk a better choice!!!!!!!

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