RSS

Monthly Archives: February 2015

Damn it feels good to be a gangsta

Court is a lot like the classical version of hell.

Horrible and boring.

I stand accused, M’lord. Guilty as charged. Mercy, M’lord, mercy.

Here is my vile crime.

I drove 2 blocks without my seatbelt on.

Chain my ass up and send me to Russia.

The truly unfortunate part of all this is that an officer of the law happened to be pulling up to a stop sign just as I turned onto my street.

Bad enough to get the ticket, but add to it my total inability to pay the damn thing on time and you have a recipe for creating my own misery.

When the ticket goes beyond 30 days, the fine doubles.

When it goes beyond 120 days?

It would be more merciful if they just held me down and beat me to death.

As it is they added a civil penalty of 10x the original fine.

Land of the free, home of the brave.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, purple mountains majesty. Now pay your fucking fine and shut your mouth.

I found out years ago that if you show up, plead guilty and act polite they will reduce it back to the original fine amount.

So here I am.

Exiting the parking garage, I am treated to a wonderful site.

About 150 people in line, waiting to get in.

The line is moving briskly as we are shuttled thru the metal detector, manned by armed men.

There are about 50 people left between me and my own trip thru the metal detector when the excitement begins.

It seems a guy has been stopped at the metal detector because he forgot he had a piece of metal on him.

The metal in this case appears to be a Saturday Night Special.

A .25 calibre piece of shit that just earned him a trip to jail.

The legally armed men at the metal detector do not seem to be accepting his excuse of “Man, I forgot I had that shit on me!” and are jacking a brother up off to the side, while another legally armed man puts the gun in a baggy.

The level of stupid here is pretty impressive.

Hard to beat.

Me and the 50 people in front of me all saw this little production of “Our town- Thug life edition”.

Think of it as a cautionary tale for our times.

Don’t be that stupid, people.

So, when the guy two people in front of me got stopped at the detector for a pocket knife with a 5 inch blade, I am sure we were all a little shocked.

No more felonies are committed and I manage to get inside on time to make it to my assigned court room.

And there on the door of the courtroom, is my entire reason for being a consistent asshole to the universe.

“All cases for Division 1 will be rescheduled. Court is closed due to illness.”

Sigh.

Karma, you giggling bitch.

Well played.

Advertisements
 
2 Comments

Posted by on February 27, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Before you kill someone.

You gotta wonder what goes thru some peoples minds.

I mean, being stupid is ok, but being dangerously stupid can get you killed.

Morning rush hour, traffic is bumper to bumper.

I am not on the freeway, but its still bad.

Luckily, I am not rushing to get to work, just breakfast.

Heading to my favorite breakfast place.

Time to coffee up.

But the car ahead of me is out to kill someone.

Judging from the hair, I am going to say the driver is a woman.

And she is weaving, not a basket or something creative, unless you think of fatality accidents as creative.

She is driving by braille, going from the bumps on one side to the other.

And she has slammed on her brakes 3 times in a 1 mile stretch.

We will assume she is drunk, I mean, she could be a serial killer for all I know.

Anyway, the drunk chick almost just impacted into the back of a UPS truck.

We all know how those UPS trucks dart in and out of traffic, no doubt it was the truck’s slow and even speed that surprised her.

Instead of hitting the UPS truck, she whipped her car to the left, pulling into a turn lane, but going the wrong way.

The only problem with that is that she almost went head on into a car that was just pulling into that turn lane.

This woman is a Goddam menace. A threat to the public. Armed (With a car) and dangerous.

As traffic began moving again, I finally got in the next lane.

As luck would have it, my new lane we faster, and I pulled up next to vehicular public enemy #1 at the next red light.

It is, indeed, a woman.

Either late teens or early 20’s, which makes her even dumber than most.

That isn’t sexist, by the way.

Late teens to early 20’s is easily the dumbest part of life, where most of the WORST decisions in life are made.

She isn’t drunk.

She is putting on her make up.

Are you shitting me?

That will be an interesting scene at the hospital.

A surgeon with bloody clothes comes out to address a grieving family.

“Cause of death, lip gloss.”

This is hall of fame type of stupid here.

However, if you smack your hand on the door of your car and yell “HEY, DUMBASS!” She jumps like a singed kitten and stares at you like you’ve done something wrong.

At least it got her to drive better, for awhile at least.

But then she had to work on her mascara.

While I don’t wish her well, I hope the criminally stupid doesn’t become an ACTUAL criminal.

(But I do wish that some sort of karmic “Instant justice” happens to her. Like she gets fired today, or her cat dies, or she gets an STD. Just kidding, I’m sure she’s already got an STD. From her dead cat. OH YES I DID!)

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on February 20, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Rock bottom.

When a 21 year old stunning blonde in a bar does the “hair flip with a giggle” move on a guy, it can be breath taking.

But when a formerly stunning blonde who is not aging well does it in a Starbucks to a guy half her age she met in line?

Not so much.

Don’t get me wrong, sometimes there is nothing hotter than a woman well out of her 20’s that has enough experience in the world to be comfortable in her skin.

And it blows the younger competition out of the water.

But it is a tough act to pull off.

Such is not the case here.

Its more like a bad actress in a shitty play with no rehearsal who’s dying of a wasting disease caught by making out with some  un-vaccinated homeless illegal with lip sores at some sort of 70’s style key party in a random flip flop club in a questionable side of town on the wrong side of the tracks an hour past closing time on a school night.

(Lines like that are why I write this blog.)

The guy, mid 20’s and dumb like a stick by the looks of him, is not even noticing.

He has this sort of Lumpy Rutherford innocence to him that is as charming as it is alarming.

In fact, the more I watch this guy the more I feel I may owe sticks an apology, because they could not POSSIBLY be as stupid.

Who knows, maybe they’re made for each other?

Sounds like a bad tv show, she is the aging cougar with unidentified crotch itch and he is at the other end of the tard spectrum.

And together they fight crime and bump uglies.

A mid-season replacement show this fall on FOX.

“Old ho and the tard.”

The better thought process is, why the hell should I care where he gets his STD’s? If not from her, then from elsewhere, and I really don’t want to know where she got hers. (Although it probably involved a trip to TJ and an admission ticket to the “Donkey show”.)

(May have gone to far at this point. Give me a minute here.)

 

A test reader has just pointed out to me that, in my attempt to be amusing, I may just be an ass and total douche.

Entirely possible.

I make a big show of denigrating your reading of this blog, that I don’t care, its not for you, blah, blah, blah, the usual crap I throw out there.

Truth is, I need you to read this stuff and either laugh and shoot coffee out of your nose or hate it like a pedophile has moved into your neighborhood and has become BFF’s with your kids.

(Test reader has just called me a dick and is refusing to be involved from here on. Never a good sign.)

So lets dial it back a notch, slow things down.

Like a slow jazz singer trying get his groupies worked up to have a shot at a sloppy handjob after the show.

I give up, despite my admittedly half-assed attempts to get out of the mental sewer I find myself in, I can’t seem to get over the curb.

Like a literary quicksand, the more I struggle, the deeper I sink.

So I give up.

That is the beauty of writing a weekly blog.

There’s always next week.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on February 13, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

The asshole within.

I gotta get out of this business.

Being the literary coffee house witness is beginning to take its toll.

I no longer have the ability to filter what comes out of my mouth or onto the page.

The only filter is one I developed, the one that tries to phrase everything in the most shocking or shitty way.

Its like the blogging version of PTSD.

The blog has touched my mind, but not in a good way.

More like a creepy uncle with clammy palms kind of touching.

And yeah, there is baggage that comes with that. (From the blogging, I don’t have a clammy-palmed uncle.)

But, I am not a danger to anyone else, unless you read the blog, then we are all victims together.

Great, lets form some sort of touchy-feeling support group to sob about “What the blog did to me!”

That might be a symptom of the problem in this country.

Previous generations, like your grandfather’s on back, the one’s that built this country? They worked, got shit done, and kept their issues to themselves.

They rarely missed work.

I could be wrong, but it seems like we are teaching society that, God forbid ANY problem pop up, STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND THINK ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS!

Don’t move forward until you have coddled your inner child until they are every bit as spoiled as we are.

Recipe for disaster, but maybe I am being harsh.

“Time to cut bait.”

I hate having my thought process interrupted but that phrase caught my attention.

It’s one of those cultural adages that means “Time to get to work”.

The guy sitting next to me is wearing a pretty expensive suit and used that phrase.

Funny, he doesn’t look like a fisherman.

He is on an iPhone 6.

He looks like aging middle management in an expensive, but boring, suit.

It appears he is in insurance of some sort.

And, like his suit, the man is boring.

I have spent less than 15 minutes in his presence and I can vouch for the fact that the man is less exciting than toilet paper.

And thats pretty boring.

But, its a slow day, especially when your blog is about observing other people.

And he is the only cookie in the jar.

So what can we tell about him just from looking?

He has no taste in suits, but he is smart enough to go somewhere to buy his suits that the salesman has decent taste.

He’s a bad salesman, you can tell that just from looking at his hair.

Comb-over. Bad sign.

Also, fiddles with his pen as he talks, also a bad sign.

In poker, they call this a tell.

It means he’s nervous, bluffing and feeding someone a line of shit.

And there are lots of lines of shit in the insurance game.

For those who sell insurance, if you are offended, stop lying to yourself.

Time to get rid of him, he is souring my morning.

I look at him, smiling slightly and hold up my hand till he notices.

“Hang just a second.” He covers the receiver with his hand. “Can I help you?”

I look friendly and a little wide eyed at this point. (Or at least as much as possible. This is not in my wheelhouse really.)

“Have you accepted Jesus as your personal savior? Can we talk for a minute?”

Beat.

“I gotta go.” He says this into the receiver, packs up, mumbles some sort of excuse why we are not chatting and flees the scene in under 45 seconds.

And peace returns.

 
Leave a comment

Posted by on February 6, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,