It is pretty simple why Mexicans (and anyone else) paint their escape cars/trucks grey. It is a base coat, soooo, "what color was that vehicle , fellow?" Grey, he replies ," "That is not much help." Si! " Even black or white is easier to identify. Plus, with a nice grey basecoat it is easy to paint if you get away. Mexicans are not stupid, especially where cars are concerned.
What, again, the "What,Me Worry" troll crawls out from under the "I don't have a name rock" tired of cavorting with spiders and scorpions to share his poison. Just remember "What Again", once your playmates see a little light shine on you, even they will not want you back.
It is time for Tucson Weekly to engage in some "Troll Circumcision". They, (the people that engage in endless bitch slapping tennis matches) , should be restricted to two comments. One comment , one reply. If they want to play , kissy, kissy, poke , poke, then exchange ph. #s and make a date for some open carry bar. You won't be missed.
There is no escape from truth, it is right behind you, gaining on you, it will be on your left, your right, then in front, you will stumble over it, try to climb over it, crash into it, make you weep or set you free. No lies, rationalizations, justifications, ignorance, stupidity, religious indoctrination or messenger avoidance will protect you. It will give you heaven or the righteous hell you deserve.
Feather merchants, During the early days of the US Army, perhaps as early as the Revolutionary War, it was used to describe unscrupulous merchants (perhaps precursors of Haliburton) who would include rocks and other heavy objects to add weight to the feathers sold to the government that were used for soldiers' pillows, mattresses and such, so to increase the contractors profits. The only thing worse is the yes master sycophants that trail behind the bigmouth bus that carries all their fears, justifications and bigotry with a big US flag on one side and a confederate flag on the other side.
I love dogs, well, I love some of my dogs, well , some of my dogs love me most of the time, well, all my dogs should love me, hell, anyone should love me if I feed them, walk them, play with them, brush them, push their ugly asses uphill, wash them, shelter them, train them, let them slobber on me, lick me, follow me, make me pick up their shit, bury their shit, let them bring me shit and put up with their shit. But, I draw the line at pushing them around in shopping carts. They might as well be cats that don't purr.
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