When almost into Wally World the other day, I was confronted by a gravitationally challenged woman, aka a morbidly obese blob.
The woman was out of breath. She beseeched me to take her Courtesy Mobile
Obesity Shopping Unit (electric scooter) back into the store for her. What can one say? One can say “no.” One can say, “You somehow managed to get in
the store to fetch the scooter and be hauled around on it, now you can’t manage
to take it back?” Or, one can say
“sure,” which is what this Baldo Waldo said. Whatever, without so much as a “thanks” from
the puffing person I tried to drive the thing across the cross-walk and into
the giant building. Seems that the blob
so stressed the little machine that the battery had run down. And so, looking like even a bigger idiot than
I already felt I was, there I sat while the scooter inched across the road
going at about the same pace as a really fast snail might. One can imagine the stopped cars waiting for
me to finish the grueling marathon and the amount of laughter and cursing I generated.
"Look at that lazy POS! He's no more disabled than I am."
"That bald fool should be ashamed of himself."
"Hurry the F--K up, you fudder mucker or I'll run over you!"
Fortunately, a big friendly guy saw my dilemma and along with his laughing wife he pulled me into the store.
A bit later I ran into this same couple
on the cookie aisle where I had a heap of hankerin' for strawberry wafers. They laughed out loud when I announced, “And
here I am buying cookies! Maybe there’s
a scooter in my future too.”
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What Can You Say?--Seems federal bureaucrats are
reading this blog. The National Highway Traffic
Safety Administration did a study to determine who, men or women, confuse the
gas with the brake pedal most often.
Although I personally do not give a flying fig which gender is the
craziest, this fancy study discovered that women, three to one, most often
are the culprits.
And, in another goofy million-dollar study, the group learned that most of these accidents occur—surprise, surprise--in store parking lots. The NHTSA went on to add that there are a whopping fifteen such accidents per month in the U.S. Ho, ho, ho! Got news for these feds: There are more such accidents than that per month here in Florida alone. Hardly a day passes without a “confused” senior mistaking the gas for the brake pedal and boring a hole straight through some wall or backing over some slow dodger in a parking lot.
And, in another goofy million-dollar study, the group learned that most of these accidents occur—surprise, surprise--in store parking lots. The NHTSA went on to add that there are a whopping fifteen such accidents per month in the U.S. Ho, ho, ho! Got news for these feds: There are more such accidents than that per month here in Florida alone. Hardly a day passes without a “confused” senior mistaking the gas for the brake pedal and boring a hole straight through some wall or backing over some slow dodger in a parking lot.
Just this past Saturday, over
on the other coast, 76-year-old Thelma Wagenhoffer plowed right through the
front door of the local Publix grocery store.
Witnesses said Thelma’s car appeared to be going at least 50 MPH when it
blasted into the store sending people and potato chips flying in all directions.
Although one shopper was pinned beneath the car and a few others were
mussed up, it was only by the grace of God and some really fleet feet that more folks
were not squashed or critically killed.
As for Thelma, well it's hardly worth noting that she still has
hardly a clue about what happened. Contacted
at the home, her husband stated that his confused wife (who, of course, was not
injured in the least) was “trying to put the pieces together.”
With a little luck, Mrs. Wagenhoffer
will be at it again today or tomorrow, exercising her God-given right to confuse
the gas pedal for the brake, crashing through walls, sending glass, bricks, floral arrangements, Cheez-Its, and body parts flying in all directions.
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Death Guard on Duty—Also over
on the other coast, an Atlantic Ocean Rescue Emergency and Early Medical Response
Vehicle (a pickup truck with a teen-age life guard at the wheel) was “patrolling” the beach at
Fort Lauderdale the other day. Well, although
it was broad daylight, it seems the driver was either texting or
eyeballing the contents of some bikini nearby for he failed utterly to see one
Rinda Mizelle sunbathing.
Although she survived, Ms.
Mizelle admitted that for awhile there she felt like a “human speed bump.” About the only good thing to come from this
development, I suppose, is that the life guard was right there on the spot to
help the victim he created.
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Coming to a Neighborhood Near
You: The Third World—Up the bay, down Port Charlotte way, Rodolfo Alberto
Burbano was having trouble with his septic tank. Since poor Rudy lacked the pesos to call in
the pros, he decided to just pump his waste straight into the storm drain just like he did back wherever he came from. Nice.
Fortunately, an alert neighbor saw this and reported it, but. . . . Imagine what Florida would be like if we all
tried to save a few bucks by doing what Rudy tried to do.
Guess the Sunshine State would smell a bit like Mexico, Guatemala, Panama, or
whatever rat hole nation Rudy comes from.
Moral: You can take ‘em out
of the Third World, but ya can’t take the Third World outta them.
______________________________________________________Funny For the Day
