Who grants this stuf anyway?
A mixture between your tax dollars and an archaic law thats been so perverted from it's original concept that its a sick joke.
"He who receives an idea from me, receives instruction himself without lessening mine; as he who lights his taper at mine, receives light without darkening me.
-Thomas Jefferson
In my youth... women could not vote.
Assuming you are a natural born US citizen that would mean you were born before 1920. Seems to me someone that was born right around the end of the first world war would have realized by now some things don't change. Theres ALWAYS going to be "evildoers" out there that wants to kill us. There always has been. That doesn't mean we need to treat our kids like criminals every time they make a mistake.
Ah, but a car only has a finite lifespan. So if it falls apart after 3 years of normal use I would probably not be responsible for fixing it. Although you may tell all your friends that I make crappy cars. On the other hand YOU can buy a screwdriver at any hardware (or most dollar stores even) to fix the car. The real issue is that I have persuaded congress to make it illegal for you to buy the screwdrivers that fix the cars I sell. And now I am saying that I should not be expected to keep any of the screwdrivers around either. And even if no one has the right tools to fix the car YOU still can't build one.
Fixed that for ya.
I just need:
an Aston Martin DBR9 (Gumpert Apollo, Ferrari FXX, or Bugatti Veyron are all acceptable alternatives),
a pallet of Franzia wine in a box (Fruity Red Sangria ideally, though the Sunset Blush works in a pinch too),
and a few dozen volunteer Caucasian women between the ages of 21 and 27; for best results, no uggos or fatties.
Also I get to keep the car when we are done.
To be honest though you might just take a look at trackballs, I know they aren't as popular as they used to be but I like using them when I code mainly because my desk becomes covered with paper trash, empty chips bags, and cans of beer in short order and I run out of room for the mouse to move around in.
The only possible interpretation of any research whatever in the `social sciences' is: some do, some don't. -- Ernest Rutherford