Thursday, July 28, 2011

Florida: Stick It Where the Sun Shines


 Never a dull moment in Charlotte County, never a dull moment.  Between the drunks and the senile drivers, it's enough to keep a bike rider like me as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a rocking chair factory.

What’s in a name? A local thief and all-around sneak was arrested a short while back for stealing a check from his boss. Said sneak was also charged with threatening said boss with a major beat-down if the latter went to the law. The ever-so-apt name of this thieving, threat-throwing gentleman? Mark Anthony Badman. Because he left threatening messages on the victim’s cell--which, of course, were turned straight over to the cops—perhaps this stupid crook should have instead been named Mark Anthony Dumbman.

Anyway, if one of Badman’s ancestors had done the right thing years back and had changed the nefarious name to say Goodman, would we even be talking today about Mark’s theft and threats? IOW, did Mark live down to his name? I’m sure that if the accused could say something on the subject it would go something like, “We’all come from a long line of Badmans. We’all be proud of that old name.  Ain't a changin' nuttin' fer nobody.” If I could toss a chunk of advice to Mark and his dad, John Dillinger Badman, and Mark’s teenage son, Jesse James Badman, it would be: “Y’all need to change that friggen name already, or y'all need to accept the fact that y’all are dooming future generations of Badmans to be, you know, convicts, jailbirds and such.  Just sayin'."


Jennifer Buckley was feeling no pain. The 37-year-old Tampa woman was totally blitzed. Weaving down busy I-75 the other morning, the drunk drove on the right side, the left side and occasionally Jennifer even managed to drive on the correct side of the road. It was about, oh, say 8:30 a.m. or so. Suddenly, near Venice, juiced-up Jen decided she needed a pit stop; not only was she anxious to dump a liquid load but she wanted to add another liquid load. So, the boozed-up broad pulled her SUV into a fast stop parking lot and “staggered” into the bar, I mean store, and did her business.

Lurching back outside, Jennifer dropped the 16-ounce can of Bud Light she had purchased and after several attempts she managed to locate it rolling around on the pavement. Once back in her weapon, I mean her car, Jen then made motions to head for the interstate again. Fortunately for all Florida life forms in the path of this woman, a cop in the parking lot spotted the sot and walked over. Slurred speech, foggy thoughts, a cold beer between her legs, a hot beer nearby, two empty vodka bottles in the back, Jen’s trip was clearly over.

When he asked where she was going, was the cop surprised at Ms. Buckley's answer? Maybe, but probably not. Jen was on her way to a neighboring town to face the music for a previous DUI rap. It was her third such in seven months.  T
his raises the obvious question: At what point in this woman’s drunken career does a bicycle enter her future? Did some one down here in the swamps pass a law stating that a person can continue to drive drunk right up to and until the time they kill a van full of children coming home from church camp?

Speaking of drunk drivers: Local lush, Bill Doyle III, of wherever, is back in the news (“No Harm, No Foul” 6.27.11). Seems despite his inability to draw a sober breath, and despite not having a driver’s license for four or five years now, and despite his penchant for vehicular homicide, seems Bill the Third is back out on bail, back raiding the liquor stores and back tearing up the roads. Guess you can’t keep a good man, or a bad driver, down.


It’s bad enough to lose a loved one any old time. When that loved one is taken as a result of a crime, we know it is doubly painful. When that loved one is taken as a result of their own stupidity, I suppose that cross is the hardest of all to bear since there is no one and no anything to blame but themselves. Perhaps that is why the parents of one of the young people who were swept over the Yosemite waterfalls last week (“Ways to Die #2” 7.22.11) are now making noise about lawsuits. Seems the ambulance chaser this family chose to shake down the National Park Service (that’s you and me, folks!) is convinced the steel barrier designed to keep stupid people from jumping off the three hundred foot waterfall is “frail” and “flimsy”--it's too easy for idiots to scale.  Also, the half dozen signs warning everyone that there is a very good chance they will DIE if they cross the barrier are simply not large enough or clear enough for some morons to comprehend. Perhaps if they made the signs as large as billboards, threw in some neon, then added graphic images of dead bodies, perhaps retards would get the message.  Keep in mind that all this law suit talk is occurring before the three bodies of the dead have even been found.

Whatever, one might imagine that the parents, recent immigrants, would be so saddened by their loss that suing anyone would be the last thing on their mind; that they would be ashamed to sue anyone for the obvious rash act of their loved one, much less sue the nation that so generously took them in. One might imagine that this would be the case but one would imagine wrong, wrong, WRONG! Money is the life blood of this materialistic nation and greed is the engine that pumps it; this fact of American life the new arrivals must have quickly discerned. Sad fact of the matter is: The suit will probably squeeze another million dollars from the Department of the Interior and force the park service to close the falls altogether or perhaps build a monkey cage ten feet high to keep stupid idiots from killing themselves.


Sand Sculpt of the Day