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In what is the 11th Cybertruck recall, certain models of Elon Musk’s embattled pickup could experience a sudden, unexpected wheel separation
These things are practically made to be unsafe deathtraps at this point!
It’s beyond ridiculous!
Astounding!
I hate it.
Comic Book Review: The Best of DC #2: Batman
Comic Book Review: The Best of DC #2: Batman edited by Paul Levitz 1979 was the fortieth anniversary of the first published Batman story. Thus this special digest, showcasing interesting stories from each decade of the hero’s publication history. It comes with an essay by Mike W. Barr explaining each story’s significance. Cover by Wally Fax “The People vs. The Batman” credited to Bob Kane…
You're safe now
"Turn it off!" The Dark Knight says, voice dangerously low and demanding. And Edward shivers. No one talks to him like that – not when it is HIM who is in control.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, now can I?" He shrugs. "She gave me the wrong answer, she deserves to die."
The wheel keeps spinning, it's 7 G now – a bit more than a roller-coaster but the Riddler can easily change that with a single click on his keyboard. 8 G and it will be like inside a speeding jet, just the woman has no pilot training. But then again, who cares about some single mother, too stupid to answer the simplest of riddles.
Well, Batman does of course. Edwards smiles to that thought. So predictable...
"It is you who gave me the wrong answer, Nygma. Let's try again," Batman takes a step forward.
Riddler doesn't flinch, confident, his finger on the keyboard.
"Let the hostage go and maybe, just maybe, I'm not gonna hurt you."
He thinks about that option for a split second. Something about that voice, that pose, that whole self-assured, self-righteous demeanor of the man in the Bat-suit makes him want to obey. It's so irritating! But of course, Riddler can't do that, it's against his rules. The rules he set himself, for everyone in this room.
"Is that your final offer?” He mocks, the smirk never leaving his face. “I let her go and you don't beat me to a bloody pulp, just send me back to Arkham where they’ll beat me to a bloody pulp? Even a narrow-minded brute like yourself should see why I have to decline. Arkham is not safe anymore. Especially not for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, nothing really,” he tries to brush it off but what was said, can't be unsaid. Batman isn't stupid, he knows what kind of enemies Riddler has made recently.
“Is that your idea of asking for help? Kidnapping innocent people? Torturing them? Luring me into yet another deathtrap?”
“I don't want your...”
“Enough talking! Turn the machine off. Now!” The Bat is at his limit, fists clenched and not looking at Riddler anymore – he's looking at the hostage who has apparently fainted.
Edward can't take this lack of attention, he is about to snap. What does it matter if one, average woman dies tonight!?
Then, Batman turns to him again, catching Riddler off guard. “Let her go and come with me, it doesn't have to be Arkham.”
“Oh?”
Not knowing why, he clicks the key and the machine responds: 6 G, 5 G. It's getting slower and slower and the spinning finally stops. The woman in the cockpit is unconscious, or maybe she's already dead? Riddler doesn't care.
Within a moment, Batman is reaching out with his muscular arm to grab him. He's close, too close! Acting on impulse, Riddler clicks another button and the trap door in the floor-panel opens.
The Bat falls down. Edward doesn't wait to see the result, he jumps to his feet and runs.
A grappling hook shoots out of the pit and Batman is free, flying across the room right into Riddler's direction. In no time, his heavy boots connect with the man's back, knocking Edward down, just like a hurricane does to weak trees.
The ground is stone-hard but it's not over yet. Riddler feels Batman's hand grabbing him by the collar of his expensive shirt. He's being pulled up, turned around. He can look the Bat in the face. The black, scary mask covers the man's eyes but still, the expression is telling.
The Dark Knight says nothing, just punches him in the face. His fist alone seems to be screaming 'Wrong choice!'.
“You’re safe now.”
He can hear Batman from where he's lying, on the floor, covered with dust and his own blood. And the Bat is talking to the hostage, of course.
2006 Final Destination 3
Directed by James Wong Written by Glen Morgan, James Wong, Jeffrey Reddick Stars Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Ryan Merriman, Kris Lemche Run Time: 1 Hour, 33 Minutes Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ectjqGg92M8 Spoiler-Free Judgment Zone This one is more of the same, only with different specifics. A vision before a disaster saves some people who were meant to die, and then death comes…
2003 Final Destination 2
Directed by David R. Ellis Written by J. Mackie Gruber, Eric Bress, Jeffery Reddick Stars A.J. Cook, Ali Larter, Tony Todd Run Time: 1 Hour, 30 Minutes Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rvajfn-S3EI Spoiler-Free Judgment Zone The chains of events that lead to deaths are complicated and don’t always go the way you’re expecting. Clear, survivor from the first movie, is back, and there’s…
Don't you love making your home into a deathtrap?
gotta make your home more fun
And believe it or not but its idiot proof too if I end up dying somewhere
Casa de Coches - We Deliver!
This story was originally published on MySpace on January 31, 2006. This story has been edited for clarity and grammar.
As a kid growing up, my dad went through cars like water.
It didn't help that he always bought used cars, and Black Holes to boot. They were like Money Sponges, sucking his wallet dry, but he happily paid for them to be fixed. After he was done with them, they were either donated or sold to various members of the family to further suck the savings from their own pockets.
Not a single car from my childhood and adolescence has made it to the finish line at the Mario House of Cars, except the one I drive now. (*EDIT* - That car was a 1994 Mitsubishi Mirage that was sold to a friend of my dad's in 2008.) The way my dad has functioned with these money sponges could be enough to start his OWN car business -- you know, selling them, buying them, refurbishing, etc. He also fancied spray painting the hub caps black, which I think cheapens the look of the car and affects the resale. But what do I know? I'm his daughter, so I know nothing. 👀 😂
His most popular choice in vehicle was the STATION WAGON. My high school boyfriend nicknamed it the "Shaggin' Wagon", though we never used it for that purpose. My dad had other cars that my mom and I nicknamed.
Since I am the youngest daughter and was the one to live at home the longest before starting my adult life, I had an advantage over the rest of my sisters. Papi needed someone to drive these cars in order to monitor how well they did on the road. However, it was drive only -- I would like to reiterate that those vehicles were NOT given to me.
The very first car I had ever gotten behind the wheel was the Shaggin' Wagon. We had taken my mom the airport and on the way there, I had begged to be allowed to try my hand at driving. My dad pulled over on the side of the road and told me to drive all the way home. I had never driven EVER, so that was fun! By the time we got back to my parents house, his face was as white as a sheet and he was actually wearing a seatbelt. As a kid, I remember my dad actually cutting the seatbelt out of the car on the driver's side. Now (in 2020), he actually wears a seat belt.
However, after taking Driver's Ed, the car I was allowed to drive was a 1986 Chevy Celebrity. I drove that car for about 7 months my junior year of high school (1999-2000). That car is, HANDS DOWN, the MOST GHETTO CAR EVER...but I absolutely LOVED driving it!
*Backstory on the Chevy Celebrity*
My dad had purchased that car when I was in 8th grade. I remember getting a note from the secretary at school stating my dad was going to pick me up from school and not to take the bus. I waited by the side of the road, looking for my dad in the ever-present station wagon, but was surprised when I saw a car flashing its lights at me. Imagine my surprise seeing my dad roll up in a black car and telling me to get it this strange car.
I hopped in, and he proceeded to tell me happily in his thick Spanish accent, "Look what I got!". I took a look at the interior of the car. It was cranberry colored, with plush red seats. The dashboard was cranberry colored, but I immediately noticed a few things. The steering wheel column looked like it had been shattered. The steering wheel was most obviously a replacement as it was smaller in diameter than what the original should have been, and the girth of the steering wheel was really thick. The replacement steering wheel was most obviously a racing steering wheel, but what was even funnier was that horn was something you could literally take out from the middle of the steering wheel. It would bleat like a goat when you pressed on it, and like I mentioned, you could take out the horn mechanism and play with it at the stop light. It honestly reminded me of a clown car steering wheel.
Only one wiper worked -- the driver's side wiper, thank God! There was a gaping hole where the radio used to be. The ignition was faulty, so you could literally take your key out of the ignition, lock the doors and leave your car running to go inside the store. (GREAT for winter!) The tires were bald, and the HVAC of the car wasn't all that great, either. You'd have to roll the windows down in summer to cool the car down, and then do the same thing in winter to be able to see the road since the windshield would get frosty or icy. I felt like Ace Ventura!
I remember a few times driving on I-35 and the car would suddenly die. I would have to crank it back up mid-drive. Shift into Neutral, then Drive! Fond memories, baby!
On top of that, the first day of my junior year of high school, a classmate of mine backed into my passenger side door while I was looking for a parking spot. I ended up with a huge dent in the door, so of course I wanted it fixed. When I told my dad about it, he got a twinkle in his eye, meaning...
He went to to the junk yard and brought back a door.
Not just ANY door--a $60 door! (Wow! How's that for a bargain?) As usual, "Look what I got!" with excitement. My dad was like a little boy on Christmas.
I helped him take off the old door where he promptly threw it under the house since they have a crawl space and not a basement. He attached the replacement door, and I realized something.
This door did not match. This door was blue.
"Um...Papi? Aren't you going to paint it?" I asked.
"Es'cue me? What you need to paint eet for?" I explained that while I can show up to school in a clunky car, I can't show up to school with two different colors on my car.
We spent the afternoon spray painting it black so that I could go to school and save face. We also exchanged the blue interior that had come with the replacement door, and switched it out for the familiar cranberry red on the old door.
After that, my dad strictly told me, "Don't take nobody around!"”
I'm ashamed to say that I disobeyed him. I had a heart for my poor freshman friends. I remember being a poor freshman, wishing people would take me places or give me rides home. So...I piled my friends in my car, and we opened and shut the new door. And opened and shut, until one day...
it fell off.
I am NOT joking when I say this. It happened one night at a Thursday night band rehearsal and it was the FUNNIEST thing ever. My drumline friends saw it happen, so they all chipped in to help me. We taped my door on the outside with duct tape and secured it on the inside with drummer tape. I had to carefully maneuver my way into the car without trying to get my hair stuck to the tape. I went home and wow...was my dad pissed! We discovered (rather, *I* discovered) that the lynch pins on the replacement door were smaller than the original door and couldn't support the weight of the door.
He fixed it and said, "Don't take nobody in your car!"”
However, I still continued to do it, but my friends would have to climb into my car through the driver's side or sit in the back.
Except, there was one time where I had to run an errand for a teacher. I took one of my classmates with me and gave her a quick run down of Renmobile Etiquette.
First, you slam the door really hard and you lock it!
Second, you wear a seat belt--SAFETY FIRST!!
Third, hand on to the door, just in case.
So, this girl DID NOT listen. As we left the high school parking lot, making a left onto Metcalf Ave., the door swung open and she almost fell out. I had to grab her and ask, "Look, did you NOT listen to the Three Major Rules of Renmobilism?"
"Dude... I didn't think you were being serious!"
I assured her I was. I take safety and that of my passengers very seriously.
My dad ended up giving the car away to my older sister Sandy. He also gave the second car away to her as well, the Shaggin' Wagon. My third car, the VW Jetta, was one I had actually made payments on to my uncle, he gave away to another relative as well. The fourth car I had, which was my 1994 Mitsubishi Mirage had been purchased brand new by my mother and lasted in the family for 14 years until 2008 when my dad "sold" it to a coworker who flew to Florida to buy it.
Le sigh...fond memories!
