The title of this post has absolutely zero to do with the weighty matters 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 cuck this babe deserves death.
The 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 the Lust Patrol at about the same time the 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 Carnal Cop 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.
Making others look like idiots is great fun. And it’s a sport which has been around for 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 Seinfeld 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 little, or in this case, a lot.
Some aspiring artistic genius, 20-year-old Charlie Ross from upcoast at Bradenton, has been running around being stupid most of his life 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 more “serious” humanities studies 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 so 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 smallish nerd types since your average MMA muscular type, once he pried the wedgie loose from his crotch crack, would beat Ross’ artistic ass six ways from Sunday once he ran him down.
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 their coconuts 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.”
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 that her human dignity was being trampled on, and no, she has never used drugs in her life and no, she has . . . oh, whatever.
For her piece of brilliance, Glynn got two new raps added to her rod long rap 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. Yes, someone called 911. Yes, the hungry stick-up man was arrested. And yes, he is consuming cold calories again, courtesy of the county.
Fast cash, fast food, fast conviction, fast prison, fast fool . . . simple.
Canals and Coots
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 Point (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 can on their own. By the time they reach 80 these cautious critters are pretty proficient at survival 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 slow 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 nature’s way of . . . rather, canals are unnature’s way of making room for the next generation of Florida fossils who will continue their age-old ritual of confusing gas pedals for brakes and boring holes through post office walls.