"The inability to stay quiet is one
of the conspicuous failings of mankind."
- Walter Bagehot, 1826-1877
I'm sure you've all been asking yourselves "where has that wild and crazy guy, Static been?" I'll tell you in this torrid tale, just for your inquiring minds that will make your socks shoot off your feet, right into the dirty clothes hamper. It's about damn time too, they were starting to get all crunchy it's been so long since ya changed 'em. Hasn't it?
My gripe of the week: Goddamn cellphone tards! Consider yourself warned.
Oh, I've got a few observations concerning some people and their cellphones, alright.
On any given day, I am forced to avoid roughly three accidents on average because of these tards who have a need to be seen talking and driving at the same time, because they are THAT important and popular. I literally despise these people. They ruin the point of having a cellphone.
If it's rude to use a phone while you're in a movie theater...sitting in a dark room...why in the hell do people think it's OK to use one while driving through busy city streets??? That is really dumb. Seriously. The call can wait. Your life and safety, and the life and safety of others cannot.
What is so damned important? Is there an emergency? Did you forget to get directions? Are you lost because you purchased a crappy GPS system, and for some ridiculous reason you think that along with the distraction of being lost, by making a call to ask for directions, while jotting them down on a post-it note without pulling over first and ignoring other drivers on the road was a good idea?
How about sending off a text message AND eating a bowl of cereal while you're on the freeway while you're at it? Doesn't that sound brilliant? Whatever gave the impression that was a good thing to do? Because steering with your foot and knee while doing the above wasn't either.
What got me thinking about this issue again, was an article over at idontgiveableep. Idontgiveableep's author, Survivor, details a scenario involving a woman at a public library who abuses her cellphone privileges in the rudest way possible.
By ignoring the requests of people around her to either shut up or take the call outside. All I know is, I would have grabbed that bitch by her weave and swung her around like a pillow case full of door knobs.
As long as we're on the subject, it's no wonder that US states are starting to crack down on the use of cellphones while operating a motor vehicle.
Cleveland, Ohio officials launched a public-awareness campaign to educate citizens and visitors about a soon-to-debut ban on text messaging while driving in their city. Beginning July 19, it will be illegal to type out such messages using cellular phones and other handheld devices while behind the wheel.
Here in the New England area (where the worst drivers on the planet are located), Connecticut has already made it illegal to use a phone while driving.
And considering a recent trolley accident in Boston, that injured 50 people and caused SEVERAL million dollars in damage BECAUSE the operator was text messaging his girlfriend...
I can't wait for Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Vermont, and Maine (regardless of age) to ban cellphone use while operating a motor vehicle or public transit. New Hampshire has banned it already. What makes the rest of us think we're so goldarned special?
Many other countries have jumped on the bandwagon - banning the use of cellphones while driving.
BUT, why stop there? Any use of a cellphone in public that is intrusive or obstructive to others conducting their business, or slows/halts/ruins other people's shopping experience should simply be be banned NATIONWIDE.
Hell, if the offender's conversation is annoying enough, either in decibels, content, language, or just for simply acting like an ass in public, AS IF THEY ARE SO FRICKEN IMPORTANT THAT THEY HAVE TO HAVE A PHONE GLUED TO THEIR EAR AT ALL TIMES...may they be flogged with a pillow case full of doorknobs and used cellphones.
Screw Public Service announcements. Screw asking people to use common sense. Corporal punishment and "enhanced interrogation techniques" seem to work quite well.
Does it really have to come to this? Banning something, and imposing more ridiculous laws that can only go so far, so that people are "less likely" to produce the same unwanted, unsafe, inconsiderate behavior?
I'm starting to think lopping off an ear or a hand is a good idea.
The other day I was at the DMV giving notice of my new address, right? And the guy in front of me in line gets on his freaking cellphone..blatantly disregarding the huge sign in front of everyone's fat faces in plain English (and several other languages incl. Spanish).. that cellphone use is PROHIBITED. That's right. Prohibited. As in: 'don't do it, jerk-off'.
After 2.3 seconds of listening to his 'lol, hi, wut r u doin?' shit, I ripped the phone from his hands and shoved it down his throat..I proceeded to body slam the sonuvabitch, then I stomped on his throat crushing said cellphone and his larynx so the last thing the person on the other end heard was a loud thud...and probably his obnoxious gurgling and choking.
Of course I was met with applause and cheering. After 8 hours of anger management classes, I am back..like a punch in the throat. }=D
Of course, this was all fantasy. By day, I'm an EMT and wouldn't think of actually carrying out that kind of physical violence, but it sure is fun to fantasize about sometimes.
Well, the story isn't over. I've got more to add...
Friday on my way home from work, some half-wit driving behind me was yacking on his cellphone..obviously missing the fact that traffic came to a near complete stop in front of him, and he slammed right into me at 55-60 mph!
My little world inside of the interior of my beloved Pinto was in complete disarray.
That Lady Gaga track skipping inside my stereo on the same spot over and over, mum mum mum mah P-p-p-poker face mum mum mum mah p-p-poker face...Seriously it's annoying and traumatic for me now...P-p-p-please just shut yuh-your f-f-f@#%ing face.
My cellphone flew onto the floor going into that Great Void under the car seats.
Bottle of Jack Daniels shattered everywhere.
My pet Chihuahua, Paris, ejected through the passenger side window she was hanging out.
Glasses flew off my face landing somewhere where I can't find them (probably in that Great Void under the seat).
Baseball cap and flip top head flipped all over the damn cabin
During the impact, everything was in slow motion. I saw my life flash before my very eyes, like some sort of distorted movie clip playing on a Hi8 camera reel. I was hit so hard from behind that I felt like an abused whore at a Tijuana Donkey Show.
I think I was unconscious for a second and slipped into an alternate reality.
I entered the Land of the Lost..not like the shitty movie remake of the T.V. series starring Will what's his name..but the actual land of the lost. Where lost souls go when they are well...lost!
Surely, I entered The Death Metal Health Care System...which is similar to The Death Metal Shopping Network.
In this nightmare of sorts, I was picked up by an ambulance crew that all bore an eerie resemblance to one of those oddly familiar, but can't remember their name, or place their face, washed up actors who do those personal injury canned ads.
You know the ones I'm referring to, they usually go something like–'If you’ve been in an accident, get the money you deserve. Speak to an attorney for free. Call 1-800-blah blah blah.'
The ads are running all over broadcast television, usually in the afternoons or late evenings..and everyone of those "I mean business" out of work has-beens are like a bunch of money hungry ambulance chasing mooks to begin with.
So as the dream progresses, I notice I am in one of those economical subcompact supermini cars like the Peel P50.
hey, let's go for a ride in my death trap
They come with a limited warranty, as in there is none. They get about 100 mpg, and if you fart in it just the wrong way, you'll flip the car over. Fortunately, the P50 comes with an optional can opener to "peel" yourself out in the event it does topple over.
So after I can-opened myself out of my tin can with a subpar pathetic excuse for the Jaws of Life, the cretin paramedics at the scene tossed my mangled body into the back of their deathmobile and we went flying down the freeway while the driver text messaged his girlfriend.
The other medic was jabbing me with needles of all shapes and sizes, and I was FREAKING out right about now...or then..OH, you get the idea!
After I soiled myself for about the fourth time, we finally came to a screeching halt and they
I'm shoved into some nondescript room that reeks of rotting meat and mildew. It's cold, it's dark, it's damp. And I'm afraid of the dark.
After..oh, I dunno..about TWELVE HOURS, a nurse finally strolls in, flips on a overhead light, and I see she's about 70 years-old and is holding a bucket filled with something that looks A LOT like blood.
Nurse Ratchet slams the bucket down on the counter next to me, spilling some of it's contents, and nonchalantly hands me a straw..and I'm like, "What the eff, man?"
"Shut up and drink your blood!", the nurse growls at me.
"What the hell do you mean, drink..my own blood?!", I exclaim.
The nurse sighs, and acts as if I'm really testing her patience then says, "What I mean is, the rescue crew got out the shop vac and vacuumed up your bodily fluids off the freeway, and now you have to take it back. Don't mind the bits of glass and asphalt in there."
"Wha??", I say. "Isn't the RN or on-call doctor going to do a blood transfusion...or something?"
"Transfusion -- Jazz fusion!" the old haggy nurse yells, "Ya have to put it back into your body somehow, now don't ya? You maggot. Now shut your yap and drink up!" She shoved the straw in my mouth, which still left me just out of reach of my bucket of blood, and then stomps out of the room slamming the door behind her.
Where, Oh Where are those goddamn ambulance chasers now, I thought to myself.
Next thing I realize I'm coming to, the dream world fades to an even uglier sight..the stooge who nailed me is at my window. Which seem liked hours, but apparently was only within seconds after the accident. He was shaking me with a look on his face like he had been through this before.
"Hey," he says handing me some papers, "here's my insurance info and registration, it's all there."
"Oh why, thank you," I sputter, "I'm here holding my spleen in my hands and you want me to write down YOUR GODDAMN information. Well, alert the media. We have a hero on our hands everyone! YEEEEAARRRRRGGUUUUH!"
I paused for a moment, and feeling a bit more composed I politely asked him, "Could you, would you, be so kind as to call the police and request an ambulance. I think I am bleeding to death. Thank you so much." I then went into shock and passed out again.
However this dullard didn't even know HOW to call the police by simply DIALING 911..NOOOOO!
He started with the incessant shaking again, exacerbating my possibly broken neck and shattered skull...
What the hell is wrong with people? Are there folks out there that are really this stupid? How do some of these nitwits manage to own a cellphone or operate a motor vehicle?!
I'm gonna sue his ass so bad he's gonna have to sell his kidneys, his first-born, his wife, and his dog - on the black market. His GREAT GRANDCHILDREN will still be payin' off his debt.
Damn...lost all my hair...my teeth all fell out...holy shit, what's happenin' to me, man? WHAT'S HAPPENING TO MEEEEEEE??!!!!!
Fortunately, neither of us were seriously injured in the collision, including me (I'm sure this may disappoint some readers). But walking away without injuries is a blessing, that's the important thing...
even if you have whiplash...miss a few days of work...have to crap into a bedpan..have to hire a personal injury/property damage/ambulance chasing attorney to get proper compensation from a blood-sucking evile insurance company.
Our vehicles can be repaired..ok, maybe not his so much. His speeding deathride no doubt is a total loss. But our minds are definitely damaged beyond repair. Alright, once again what I meant was, his mind was already damaged and is certainly considered a total loss.
However, it would have been nice to know that the guy ACTUALLY learned HIS lesson, that talking or texting on a cellphone is dangerous. A lesson learned the hard way. By having his spleen/intestines/and eyeballs splattered all over HIS dashboard.
"Tell me how does it feel...can you hear me now, fucko?"
Tune in next week to Judge Judy when autobody repair shop owner and infamous Long Island Lolita pervo, Joey Buttafuoco, sues a porn-star for offering sex instead of paying her body shop repair bill..with real money.
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