Monday, January 16, 2012

No Shirt, Shitlock!

Michelle and I cruise one of our bike trails just about every week.  We pick up a little Edam or Gouda at the store, some crackers or bread, a pear, maybe a plumb, and wham! our lunch is set.  If the fire ants behave, and if the old, hairy-bellied grossers keep their shirts on, our day, like yesterday, is perfect.

Speaking of biking without helmets. . . .
Oscar-winner, Gene Hackman, was riding his bike down in the Florida Keys the other day when a pickup truck plowed into him from the rear.  "Hackman was riding without a helmet," sniffed the silly writer of the piece (because that's what every other silly news writer without a brain writes).  What this twitty reporter failed to mention was, "Yep, Hackman was not wearing a helmet and it's a damned good thing the 81-year-old actor was NOT since a blast from the past like that, and the additional weight of a helmet, could well have snapped his neck from whiplash."  As is, this tough old bird--made famous by the hit movie, "Bonnie & Clyde"--was in and out of the hospital that day and was riding his bike again in no time . . .  sans helmet.

Geezers Gone Goofy--Up the bay, down Punta Gorda way,  an
88 year-old man armed himself, barricaded the door, and refused to leave his condo.  After a two-hour standoff--cops, guns drawn, dogs, bullhorns, the works--the gentleman finally forgot what it was that had pissed him off in the first place and surrendered without further ado.  The old dude was taken away to the hospital by men in white for "evaluation."

Like the old fellow above, except for a random otter attack or a golf ball from the blue, it seems that geezers down here never die, they just renew their drivers' licenses and keep crashing into post offices.  And so, when one actually does give it up in an accident it seems somehow surreal, and almost bizarre.  Well, no "almost" to it; it IS bizarre. 

Over at a golfing community the other day near Melbourne, Florida, 75-year-old Elizabeth Sherman was zipping along in a golf cart, heading somewhere in a hurry.  With the pedal to the metal, Ms. Sherman was flying along at a crisp 5 or 6 MPH, or about as fast as a gopher tortoise can crawl.  When she made a sharp right turn, the woman miscalculated her terrific speed and lost control of the vehicle.  The cart bumped into a wall, dumping the woman to the ground and . . . killing her dead as a mackerel. Unbelievable.  She was not wearing a seat belt, of course, because none were available.  Had she been wearing a helmet it wouldn't have mattered either.  Her time was clearly up.

Not sure what news category Elizabeth falls under.  "Bad Ways to Go?" or  "Geezers Gone Wild?" Perhaps "What the Hell is Going on at Florida Golf Courses?" is apt.  A professional golf ball diver drowns last week, a gardener minding his own business is brained by a nine-iron shot last month, a golfer is eaten by a gator last year--Florida golf courses must be some of the most dangerous places on earth. 

Caricature of the Day