Daniel Hart

I play the violin and I sing.

WV

CNN just called it: Romney is likely to win West Virginia.

How much money did they spend on a time machine to go into the past and then how much money did they spend on a transmogrifier to change reporters into cartoons so that they could enter The Jetsons and borrow one of their vote predicting machines from the future?

HOW COULD ANYONE KNOW WHAT THEY KNOW ABOUT WEST VIRGINIA?

It just don’t add up.

sheesh

well, I just found out that gas in Dallas is dipping down to about $3.19 a gallon tonight. I was going to make some smarmy fb post like “gas in Dallas is $3.19! Obama, you’ve done it again!”. As is my way, I hopped on google image search and typed in “Obama gasoline” to find a funny picture to accompany my witty post. 

but mostly I just found criticism and ugliness. no, he’s not the greatest president we’ve ever had, but sheesh! so instead, i’m just posting this:

and saying this election year is as important as any other, so let’s all remember the amazing liberties that a democracy affords us and give thanks for them by voting.

It’s Alive! IT”S AL!V333333333#*$%&#*^#

After six weeks of working, waiting, working more, waiting more, buying parts, unscrewing bolts, gashing fingers, gnashing teeth, forgetting which bolts go where, and giving up all hope in the possibility of resurrection, my van starteth!

Aug. 18th, in a mad effort to brave a ridiculous rainstorm and make it to the last show, the homecoming show of the “Daniel Hart” summer tour, I drove my van into the flooded intersection of Gaston and Garland, causing it to stop henceforth in every way, right in the middle of a growing lake of brown swampy muck. 

A fire truck showed up right as the water threatened to rise into the van and three firemen, seemingly unamazed by my stupidity, pushed us to safety. We eventually made it to the show and finished the tour intact, and then I headed to China for solo tour two days later. The van, however, did not recover so easily.

The van had to be towed back to our house, as it refused to start again. As you probably know, water and automobile engines don’t mix. When I returned from China, Bobby (who knows considerably more about cars than I do) and I set to work on finding out if water actually did make it as far as the engine. If that was true, the chances of my van starting again were, as Bobby informed me, about the same as my chances of fathering a bastard child with Betty White.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cHSrGBthfZs

First order of business was to remove the air filter and the spark plugs and flush out any potential water in those places. Air filter? Wet. First spark plug? Wet. Other spark plugs? Impossible to reach without taking apart every conceivable thing under that hood which could be taken apart. And so, after two weekends of bolts and nuts that wouldn’t unscrew without considerable blood, mosquitoes and humiliation/utter frustration, we ended up with this:

We dumped and flushed water out of every place we could find it, and last weekend, we finally put the whole thing back together. Bobby said to me, “Well, Daniel, let’s give it a shot. If we did everything right, then it should start back up.” Bobby pulled up his 4-Runner, we hooked his battery up to mine, I got behind the wheel, and put the keys in the ignition.

The car made lots of noises (rurururururur) and my dash lights flashed and clicked like the Enterprise bridge computers under Klingon attack, but no dice. We let it charge for 5 minutes. I hit it again. Nothing. Charge…nothing…charge…
Bobby left. I went back inside. I sat down on the couch and contemplated what I would make for the ensuing dinner I had no interest in making or eating. I spent the next four hours playing online board games contemplating my ruin and the destruction of everything good in this world.
Monday, I mustered what little hope was left in me and checked the battery at O’Reilly’s. It was bad. Excited at the possibility of having solved the problem, I bought and installed a new one. I put those keys back in that ignition and…nothing. Same as before, without the flashing lights. Lots of noises (rurururururur), but not the sweet hum of that engine purring under the hood.
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Tuesday, I added gas and rechecked all the connections. I tried it again…rurururururur.
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Wednesday, I added more gas and re-rechecked all the connections. I floored that gas pedal with all my strength: rururururur. I felt this anger welling up inside me and, with nowhere else to put it, I slammed my foot down on the accelerator twice, as hard as I could. To my amazement, I heard: rurururu-ROOOR-rurur in response. So I did it again, twice, fast, as hard as I could: rurururu-ROOOR-rurur. So I slammed that pedal down 15 times in a row, fast and furious. 
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(if my powers have worked then you’re looking at a picture of Vin Diesel and Paul Walker right here)
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Rachel was watching from the window and she said a giant plume of the blackest smoke bellowed out of my exhaust when that engine finally turned over. I never saw it, because it took me awhile to figure out what was actually happening. I honestly could not believe it. My van started again.