Thursday, August 16, 2012

Son of Sam's Uncle

Michelle is in the mode. That means something big is up. The woman was born with wheels instead of legs. She lives for travel. I hate travel. Travel is work. It’s the actual getting there that I love.

Local elections were finally held this week—thank a merciful God—and no longer do we newspaper knobs need skip the “Letters to the Editor” section that, for at least a month now, has been hogged almost entirely by nepotistic nieces, nephews, nanas, gramps, moms, dads, sisters, and brothers pumping and pimping the virtues of their relatives running for county sheriff, county commish, city pothole counter, city restaurant roach control, city pit bull mauling coordinator, and whatever. Alas. After reading one crazy old loon’s ramble this morn, I am nigh on near ready to think that a month of political shilling may not have been so awful after all.

Just following biblical teaching

Why is it that there were more people standing in line to buy a savory deluxe chicken sandwich at the Chick-fil-A in Port Charlotte than there are at the Memorial Day services at Laishley Park? I get it, to support the biblical definition of marriage between a man and a woman. The Bible also states that slavery was acceptable and wealth was not. Will anyone be joining me as I protest for slavery and against wealth? 

Elbert C. Crotchett

Elbert may “get it” but not sure I do. I think what old EL C is trying to say is, “I am a patriotic fudge packer that gets all riled up and rankled when others vote with their big bellies to protest same-same marriage among nipple-knockers and pole-smokers but I am too timid, too sheepish to step out of this closet just yet, so I write coded and confusing letters to the ed instead.”


Two local rocket scientists raided our local airport early one morning this week to steal airplane parts for scrap metal. This was the second trip of the night for these criminal masterminds and their airport caper. Prior to this, these dopers had lifted metal from construction sites, from farms, even lamp posts from streets. Must be nice money for such metal swag since it seems all the rage among the underly privileged and overly stupid. But really, just say you are a cop in the quiet predawn hours and you see this truck ready to fall apart rattle by pulling a noisy trailer with airplane propellers, street lamps and tractor plows sticking out. The vehicle is driven by two long-haired idiots with baseball caps on backwards with one headlight and two taillights out. What do you think this cop says to himself when he sees such a sight? “Hmmmm . . . a beat-up pick-up . . . the only vehicle on the street at 4 in the morning . . . a trailer filled with metal scrap . . . wonder what’s up with that? Aw heck, probably nothing. Probably just two hard-working young lads out early trying to get ahead in the world by starting an honest day’s labor in the dark of dawn. I’ll ignore it.” Right.

If these brain surgeons had stuck big red and yellow neon signs on their truck that blinked on and off and spelled out, “Stop Us!” . . . ”Arrest us!”. . . “We are thieves!”. . . “WE ARE CRIMINALS AS GUILTY AS SIN!” they could not have been any bigger targets for cops at that time of night.  O'Malley, take these two metal chopping meth-heads away and throw away the key!

Moral: If it looks like a crook, acts like a crook, steals like a crook, and thinks stupidly like a crook, it just might be a crook.
Caricature of the Day