Monday, December 02, 2013

Murder Becomes Her

Again, the title of this blog has absolutely zero to do with the weighty matter below.  I just thought that the pretty young bride above, the one about to settle her out-of-court divorce from a cheating groom, was kinda compelling.  My own verdict? Two thumbs down on the rat. Any man that would cuckold this babe deserves the death penalty.

Lecherous Wretch—A Charlotte County deputy was patrolling Flatwoods Nature Park up the bay the other day at Punta Gorda.  Seems one Joe Ogden was taking the “nature” part of the park a bit too seriously.  While this loathsome piece of work was playing with his fiddle in the parking lot, advertising his availability to any and all, he spotted lust patrol at about the same time lust patrol spotted him.  Joe quickly tried to stash his trash and act just like any other normal park perv hanging around with his penis hanging out.  But alas, this nasty tub of chicken guts was too late.

Strolling up, the deputy did that which we are not paying him nearly enough to do and took Nature Joe away.  And, in a blink, of course, the judge did that which he and his ilk are notorious for doing, viz., he turned Joe loose.  Thus, within an hour of arrest, Joe Ogden was back out and at it again, doing what he does best—proudly exposing his 81-year-old not-so-private privates to a disgusted public.

Practical Jokes, making people look like idiots, has been around quite a while.  Most folks love the old slip-on-the-banana-peal routine (last time I saw that one was when Kramer went on his butt and the canned laughter from the Seinfield rerun went nutz--as it does for virtually everything else--sigh).  “Candid Camera” was popular in the 60’s at catching people being slow, simple, stupid, and/or senile.  More recently, a cream pie in the kisser while self-important people are making serious on camera was the rage.  So, it’s only natural that the more unstable among us will push the envelope just a bit, or a lot of bits, further.  Some aspiring artistic genius, 20-year-old Charlie Ross from upcoast at Bradenton, has been running around being stupid most of his teenage years by playing practical jokes on folks, ala the “Jackass” program.  Charlie then posts his “work” on You Tube. 

Recently, in the name of “artistic expression,” Ross just walks up to pretty girls and gives ‘em a lip smack hard on the honey hole.  Their reactions are posted on the Tube.  Now, Ross has graduated to a line of more “serious humanities study” by giving guys wedgies.  For those who don’t know: Wedgies are when someone grabs another by the back of his fruit of the looms then yanks up very hard so as to make the embarrassed victim feel like a complete douche bag.  It’s all okay, I suppose, if you are a struggling young artist like Charlie Ross; not okay if you are the d-bag victim walking around with your arms sticking out like a penguin.  I’m sure Ross always picks on much smaller kids since larger ones, once they pried the wedgie loose from their crotch, would beat Ross’ artistic ass six ways from Sunday when they caught him. 

Cops did arrest this fool for his wedgie routine but not until he had posted his artist work on the Tube. Next up for Ross:  Maybe conking people on the cocoanuts with cue balls or tossing sulphuric acid down their pants or . . . oh, who knows?  The possibilities are endless for an up-and-coming creative serial killer like Charlie Ross.

Cops better keep an eye on this anything-for-attention "artist."

Bad Samaritan—Local rocket scientist, 43-year-old Rene Glynn, found a smart phone in the restroom of a Walmart and instead of reporting it to Lost and Found she took it.  Now, Rene didn’t really need the expensive phone—she had already stolen a new one the week before so that she could continue making her drug deals in a timely and stylish manner.  Nope, instead Rene called the owner’s number and demanded $100 as her “finder’s fee” for returning the thing.  Okaaaaaay. . . .

At the same Walmart where this great criminal transaction would take place, the cops, of course, were waiting.  They took Rene away without incident, other than, of course, her professing her complete innocence in the matter and that her rights were being violated and her human dignity was being trampled and no, she has never used drugs in her life and . . .  oh, whatever. 

For her piece of brilliance, Glynn got two new raps added to her yard long sheet: grand theft and dealing in stolen property. Must have needed some quick dough for that fast fix and with only half her brain functioning it’s pretty clear to me that Rene just wasn't using that other half much either.  Whatever, the thief now has ample time to reflect on her stupidity, courtesy of the county.

Meanwhile, a brain surgeon up in Michigan knocked off a McDonalds awhile back and he liked the service so much that he thought he might stop in again, this time not to rob but to suppa’ down.  That Big Mac attack proved expensive.  Yes, someone recognized this 40-year-old Mensa member and he is consuming cold calories now, again, courtesy of the county.

Fast cash, fast food, fast conviction, fast prison, fast fool . . . simple.

Seems this awful affinity,
this murderous magnetism, this hypnotic hankerin' that seniors possess which compels them to walk, creep or crawl near canals, and to their deaths, is not something new.  Awhile back a car was pulled from one of our local, long, muddy, murky, unnatural bodies of water (we call ‘em “canals”) where it had lain undiscovered for two decades.  Back in ‘93, Frances Hendrickson disappeared while driving her big blue Buick station wagon over the bay at Fat Tip (we call it “Punta Gorda”).  Foul play was, of course, suspected back then but it now seems that the 64-year-old woman, like so many other age-challenged oldsters down here (we call ‘em geezers), just simply drove to her death on a bright, sunny day when only a few blocks from home.  

Canals and old people—sorta sounds like the Bermuda Triangle and ships.  If you know the geezers here and if you understand the Sunshine State, it all makes sense.  Oldsters here hardly ever kick the bucket on their own.  By the time they reach 80 these cautious critters are pretty proficient at living and dragging the whole mess out.  Geez almost never kill themselves.  They might confuse the gas pedal for the brake and bore holes through post office walls, they might back over and flatten poor dodgers in Walmart parking lots, they might squash like squirrels we cyclists on the roads . . . but kill themselves?  Ha! 

And so, since coots gotta go somehow--it may seem cruel but canals are unnature’s way of making room for the next generation of Florida fossils.