Monday, April 16, 2012

Waldo Goes to Wal-Mart

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.”


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. 

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. 


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. 

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