Come High or Hell Water

Amazing_Moment_2 (1)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 Charlotte County, 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 recently, over on the kosher coast, 76-year-old Gertrude Klangenhoffer plowed right through the front door of the local Publix grocery store.  Witnesses said Gertrude’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 some, it was only by the grace of a wonderfully indifferent god and some really fleet feet that more folks were not squashed or critically killed.

As for Gertrude, 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, unfortunately, was not injured in the least) was “trying to put the pieces together.”

With a little luck, Mrs. Klagenhoffer 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, Cheetos, and body parts flying in all directions.

Geezer On Geezer

Up at nearby Venice, retired banker, Sir James Winchester IV, Esquire, was standing in line the other day among the common rif-raf, doing business at (where else?) a bank.  Seems the 74-year-old didn’t much like the way this particular money mill was doing business, thought he could do it ever so much better, and loudly made known his sentiments to the poor serf who was serving His Highness at the time as teller.  When a 71-year-old commoner in line behind Sir James—a commoner whose common sense was shorted out it seems by the tenants of Christianity—thought that he might play Jesus the Peace Maker and try to calm His Majesty down a bit, His Majesty turned angrily about and gave the uppity peasant a right sound rap on his thick skull.  The Royal blow knocked the impudent knave to the floor, dashing his glasses to bits.  Just as Lord Winchester was about to administer a real chicken lickin’ on the would-be Jesus and give the rascally peasant a Royal curb stomp he would long remember, the bank manager stepped in and parted the two combatants.

See?  That’s what I mean.  Here in the “Land of the Living Dead” there is never a dull moment!

Senior Disturbance #2

Seems 72-year-old Jim Montpelier was also on the warpath the other night over at North Port.  Jim may well be totally marbles since the report states he was “living with his family,” which usually means, “this man is totally batz and is under complete house lock down to save society from his craziness.”  Anyway, Jim got it into his scrambled thought process that he wanted to go tooling around in the family car at midnight.  So, when a member of the family, a 44-year-old woman, refused to hand over the keys, the frolic was on.

Jim first locked a pretty good rear naked choke on the lady’s neck as he tried to not only struggle the keys out of her fist but strangle her life right out of this world.  When that failed, he went to work removing great gobs of the gal’s hair like he was pulling crab grass.  Yelling for help, the hard-pressed woman then bit the crazed coot hard on the arm which forced him to release his hold.  After that, she then gave her attacker a few small smacks for man and one giant slug for mankind.  Old Jim flew backwards and hit his noggin hard, not on a moon rock, but on a bread box.

After a bunch more fighting, wrestling, hair pulling, and enough wild racket to wake the dead, cops finally arrived and gave Jim that thing which he fought so hard for—a midnight ride in a car.

Ha!  Old folks down here get pretty dang ornery when you try to separate them from the things they love, including their means of backing over people in parking lots or boring holes through post office walls.

Moral of the story:  You are damned if you do and you are damned if you don’t.  If crazy Paw-paw or goofy Grammy steals the car keys and then proceeds to run over and destroy everything they encounter, you know you’re gonna find your butt in serious trouble.  Don’t surrender the keys to ’em and you find yourself in a Texas Death Match at midnight in which not only is your home demolished and you wind up with a five-figure medical bill, but you find yourself being fitted for a really bad wig when you leave the hospital.

Great Balls of . . . Trash

Senior Sanitation Chief Engineer (big garbage man) Bob White was perhaps whistling a little tune the other day as he merrily blew up I-75 with a full load of Residential Refuse and Industrial Waste Matter (garbage) in his Multi-Functional Waste Management Vehicle (trash truck).  Suddenly, a driver in another lane motioned for Bob to look behind.  In the mirror, Bob realized that his trash truck (Multi-Functional Waste Management Vehicle) was on fire.  Bob didn’t get to be a big garbage man (Senior Sanitation Chief Engineer) for nothing.  Parking the fiery mess, Bob then dumped the whole load on the side of the road where it quickly began to ignite the surrounding countryside.  Although the action saved the truck, the move threatened to engulf the entire State of Florida in flames since there is a no-burn drought notice hereabouts and everything organic is kindling dry.  Clearly, this waste was not managed too well.

Whatever, the local fire department reached the scene and the five tons of flaming garbage were doused and several Waste Management Specialists (trash men) were compelled to put the mess back in the truck again.  Just don’t seem fair, do it?