The Weekend

We had a big bullshit 'take back our highways' celebration here recently. Basically it's the same as the feminazi's 'take back the night' marches on college campuses where they stomp around with torches and sexually assault every male student they encounter, accusing them of being sex offenders by virtue of not having vaginas. Only in this case it's just cops roaming in packs, like wild dogs, randomly pulling people over for a lot of nothing.

The ads promised that they were going after speeders, those oh-so-vicious seatbelt violators, and 'aggressive drivers.' No mention was made of going after the deadly and rampant passive/aggressive drivers. They used to enforce the laws against passive/aggressive driving, but it was politically unpopular because they ended up pulling over a disproportionate number of black and female drivers, so they stopped enforcing those laws altogether.

Anyway, I drove to Memphis surrounded by cops looking for any excuse. I set my cruise control to whatever speed limit I saw, turned up my stereo, and watched them grab people all around me who hadn't been doing a damned thing. I watch them nab a black Toyota who was cruising next to me going the same speed as me and not doing anything wrong or suspicious. I watched the passive/aggressives getting bolder and more aggressive as they realized the laws weren't going to be applied to them. My only real consolation was that gas prices keep coming down and down, but they're still killing me. Oh, and my console broke for no apparent reason. It just suddenly didn't want to open. I push the button and pull on the handle and it doesn't release. So it was a good thing I didn't get pulled over. My wallet was in there and I couldn't get it out.

I think we should break up our police into real cops and 'seat belt' cops. The real cops can focus on real crimes, and the seat belt cops can just drive around harassing people for not wearing seat belts, not having their children in overpriced child seats, smoking, eating unhealthy foods, and other fad bullshit like that. They shouldn't have guns or anything because nothing they're doing involves actual criminals. Also, instead of driving police cruisers, which have room in the back for hauling criminals to jail and a big trunk for equipment and a legal manual, they could drive Toyota Priuses or diesel-powered Volkswagen Bugs. And instead of wearing black or blue, they should wear pastel colors or pink, reflecting the nature of their task. It'd be a friendlier, more it-takes-a-village, grrl power sort of force, roaming the streets to tell us all to eat our vegetables and don't talk with our mouths full like our mothers used to do. I think that would be entirely appropriate. Plus, it would save real cops from having to do bullshit work that most of them hate doing anyway.


At home this past weekend, The Wife and I did a lot of yard work. And I discovered some new friends that were living right nearby me without my knowledge. As I came out of my shop and walked past my Dad's old hearse, a swarm of wasps suddenly began attacking me from out of nowhere. I ended up running down the driveway in my bare feet flailing my arms over my head like an idiot while the neighbors watched, thoroughly amused. The neighbors couldn't see the wasps from where they were. All they could see was a barefoot moron running and flapping his arms around.

I cut my foot pretty badly in the escape, but I got away from the wasps. I had to dig a rock out of my big toe and it bled nicely. Then I went and got a can of wasp poison and went back for some proper revenge. I searched around and found a giant wasp's nest in the wheelwell of Dad's car. I hosed it down and watched with glee as 20 dead wasps fell onto the driveway. I searched the rest of the car and discovered that more wasps had managed to get inside one of the doors and built a nest in there. So I sprayed inside the door and watched wasp after wasp come climbing out, only to fall over dead, adding to the pile. I opened the door and watched as more wasps came out the drain hole at the base of the door, now dripping with white liquid wasp death.


I changed the oil in my 4x4 after I realized I had driven 7500 miles between oil changes. Oops. I had forgotten that when I'm on the road a lot I have to change my oil more often. I started up my old 1971 Monte Carlo and drove it around. I haven't driven that car more than 1000 miles in the past 10 years, which is bad. The exhaust was blowing smoke rings and made a huge stinking cloud from a combination of water in the oil, old gas in the tank, and the seals of the engine drying out from neglect. The engine shouldn't need a rebuild, but after sitting up for so long I'm thinking it could use an overhaul. I just don't feel like doing it. I don't care that much about it anymore.


Back in Rockettown a couple of DJs calling themselves John Boy and Billy dominate the morning radio on my way to work each day. They're located in North Carolina, but the program is syndicated and a station here has picked it up. There's nothing else on, but they drive me up the wall. It took me forever to figure out what it is that I hate about them, but I finally got it. They irritate the crap out of me because of their fake Southern accents. John Boy in particular has a horrible fake accent. You can tell the man has gone through years of training to REMOVE any trace of Southern accent, only to be hired into a job that requires him to try to talk like a reject from the Dukes of Hazzard. He just can't do it right. He'll be rednecking along, then break into a commercial from some product which he does completely accent-free, then go back to his drawl again. It's just crap.

I flipped stations for weeks trying to find anything else on that I could stand. I stopped at a station where I heard a familiar accent and I listened. It was a woman out in the middle of Nowhere, Alabama, who claims to be from Australia. She says her name is Sydney. I thought to myself, Sydney from Australia, hmm? And she's doing radio out in the sticks of northern Alabama eh? Suuuuuuure.

But I kept listening anyway. John Boy and Billy have ruined me. I listen to her because I like her accent more than theirs, but now I'm suspicious that she's fake, too. A woman called Sydney from Australia doing radio in some small town in north Alabama just seems too unlikely. Still, I'd like to meet her. I want to quiz her to see if I think she's really from Australia or just another John Boy with a fake accent as a radio gimmick. If I do meet her, I may need to call one of you Aussie bloggers to help me think up good questions to hit her with. So send me your mobile numbers if you're up for the task. I'll try to keep the 15 hour time difference in mind so as not to call any of you at 3 a.m. or anything like that.


sleep tight, little koala bear