Late one night a drunk guy is showing some friends around his brand-new apartment. The last stop is the bedroom, where a big brass gong sits next to the bed.
"What's that gong for?" the friend asks him.
"It's not a gong," the drunk replies. "It's actually a talking clock."
"You're crazy. Show me how it works then!"
The guy picks up a hammer, gives the gong an ear-shattering pound, and steps back.
Suddenly, someone on the other side of the wall screams, "For Pete’s sake…it's 3:30 in the freaking morning!"
When he was young, I told Dale Jr. that hunting and racing are a lot alike. Holding that steering wheel and holding that rifle both mean you better be responsible.