Have I mentioned I hate drunks? pt 2

cont'd ... I offended the drunkard by suggesting we postpone talks until Kissinger frees up his schedule. This guy must have been accustomed to scaring people at some point in his life because he fixes me with this thousand-yard stare like I'd flinch. It was probably just Miller Lite poisoning keeping him from seeing straight but in spite of my cast and other infirmities, I just don't blink once I start shit. It'll probably get me killed one day but this time I got my 8-piece and my psychiatric meds and got the hell up out of there.

Have I mentioned I hate drunks? pt 1

Had another brouhaha this weekend. I was @ HyVee Food Store trying to pick up some herb roasted chicken just as the deli was closing @ 8. Not usually a problem except some drunk as fuck 1992 throwback was trying to dicker with the high school chick behind the counter over the price of a piece of dessicated meatloaf. She's not authorized or willing to give Drunky McDrunkerson - Tipsy to his friends - a break. Then he tries to get her to give up a little extra loaf. Normally, a guy wants to get a little extra for his money I figure good for him. But when it means making me wait around, listening to some babbling brook dirty alcoholic skank who's too shitered to know or care just how boring and pathetic he is in his best concert tank top and pajama bottom combo, his red eyes barely able to focus, I say screw all that noise. So just about the time the negotiations hit UN ridiculous levels,
I offended the drunkard by suggesting we postpone talks until Kissinger frees up his schedule. -30-

My own personal Bigfoot

I see this Super Mario looking brother around town every once in a while & always try to get a shot of him. He is elusive this one. I had to follow him around the HyVee produce isle for over 20 minutes to get this pic unseen. Critics have accused me of faking this photo. Others have suggested this is just a man in a Mario suit. I hope to get a better shot of the mustache at some point in the future.

Jesus vs Batman: Who would win in a fair fight?

My buddy kevin is all pissed at me for posing this
query without immediately surrendering to our
Lord championship status in the only field in which
he never claimed superiority: violence. We figured
Bats could beat Wolverine and even Superman but
Kevin just wouldnt give the Dark Knight the W over
JC even if neither one used batarangs or magic. I pointed
out that its hard to do roundhouse kicks wearing flip flops
and even harder to make a fist with holes in your hands
but Kev would have none of it. He is truly faithful
that one.

It stands to reason that if Jesus could get beat down by
a bunch of guys in sandals with no guns while weve
all seen the Bat take on way tougher like Joker and
Two Face then by the transitive property of basic logic
Batman could more than likely beat our Saviour in a
friendly dust up. This doesnt mean Christianity is
meritless. It it does anything it reinforces that
Christianity is a religion whose believes are supposed
to allow their asses to be kicked.

QED.

porn or ice cream?

Cherry Nut Crunch
Oreo blizzard
Dippin Chocolate
Chunky Monkey
99 cent Banana Split Junior
Exploited Black Teens 27

Phone Monkeys and Other Animals

Coming soon to a theater near you.

Where I've Been (or God this boil hurts)

I've gotten a couple of emails wondering why haven't posted
in a while. Long story short, I was in the hospital for about a week
because a boil in my thigh turned septic and really fucked me up.

Yeah, my doctor pretty much said it was the biggest abscess of its
kind he'd ever seen. Fourteen centimeters across and Lord knows
how deep. I had to go the emergency room and have a surgeon hack
on me. God damn bed looked like someone had a baby in it. I swear
to God I've never seen that much blood anywhere. The next day,
a pus bag the size of a baseball burst while I was on the toilet. It hurt
a good deal, but mostly I heard it. Sounded and smelled like someone
dumped a can of Chunky Cream of Veterinarian's Office Soup on the floor.
The pus was worse than the blood.

The best part of the experience ... besides knowing that I fought death ...
was the drugs. Jesus Christ. I had morphine and dilaudid, a hydromorphone
that just knocks you on your ass. It's like a warm bath for your mind. They'd
give me a shot of this stuff and a wave of pleasure would just wash over you
while you nodded out riding the fine line between waking and dreaming.
Morphine kind of sucks. I had the drip with the button so I could give
myself a bump every 20 minutes and it was just a dark. Kind of a rough
high that wasn't much fun or even that much pain relief.

After five days of being confined to a hospital bed, pissing in a jug and
watching basic cable, I was ready to get the fuck out. Now I'm homebound.
I've got nurses coming by to change my bandage and unpack the gash in my leg
and repack it. I'm bored as shit, but at least I don't have people waking me
up at 5 a.m. to do blood cultures, check my vitals and ask why I didn't go
to the doctor sooner. Oh I don't know. Because I'm not a pussy. I hate doctors
and hospitals and IVs and stupid questions and massive bills.

Geeks Like Us

Hi. My name is Greg and ... I'm a gamer [sobs].

Of course, when I say gamer I mean it in the 1983 sense
of the term which is "I play D&D" not the current sense
which means "I play World of Warcraft."

Here is a great story on the BBC web site about D&D
over the years with comments from geeks like us on
how they did it (chortling all the way), where they
did it (in other people's basements) and why they did
it (it was freakin' fun).

I remember hearing about D&D from Mike Kinney, this
kid in my reading class when I was in 7th grade. I had
just finished reading "The Hobbit" and was stoked. He
asked me if I'd be interested in playing a game that let
you act out the things in "The Hobbit." Hell's yeah, was
my answer. He let me borrow his books (the ones you
see here) and I browsed through them. To be h0nest,
I've NEVER read them cover to cover. The game has
a lot of detail to it, but the basics are actually pretty
simple. No, I liked looking at the primitive artwork that
really seemed to fire up my imagination more than really
professional fantasy artwork could at the time. I mean,
seriously, look at these pics. They look like a really talented
12-year-old did them. It's great.



For me, D&D was always something played in other people's
basements. Basements with finished walls and carpet. Basements
with rising damp and piled with crap. Basements where a
kid could be a hero by rolling some funny dice. We never drank
when we played. We had pop and chips, occasionally pizza, but
for us, D&D was a wholesome good time. It cracked us the hell
up that certain religious types thought we were putting our
immortal souls in danger. I blame that mostly on Gary Gygax
for having a weird name and putting demons on two of his
game book covers.

D&D rocks and while it may not be as popular as it once was, it
is still better than the competition (video games, card games and
WOW).

NPR stories about D&D

• Dungeons, Dragons and Geek Chic
• D&D turns 30
  
• Venturing into the World of Dungeons and Dragons
• A New Dungeons and Dragons Rule Book

Ready to do Ollies, I think

My new shoes. Pretty cool, hunh? My God
those skateboarders know comfortable shoes.
These Airwalk "Flip Tech" Skate shoes were half
off at Payless. That really surprised me because
I thought they only sold shit. Apparently, they
are selling name brands now and I gots NOOO
problem paying half price for cool shoes. Now if
I can just figure out how to lace them up properly.

Am I a believer? I'm not a NON-believer

I moved recently and have been without cable for a few weeks.
This is not the hardship you think it is. Whenever I have cable,
I collect as many UFO documentaries as I can. But I don't usually
get to watch them all until I have nothing else to watch ... and
then I really cherish them. Some people think it's crazy to believe
that maybe there are extraterrestrials visiting the Earth, abducting
folk or buzzing Mexico City. Frankly, I think you're nuts if you
believe it isn't possible, you crazy son of a bitch.

Now, I'm not saying I believe every story out there. Some are just
incredible bullshit. And there are weird asses who will believe in
anything and promulgate nonsense. But there are also some really
smart people who believe we need to keep an open mind. So I'll be
damned if I'll discount everything I've heard and seen (on video) just
because it's far-fetched and -- let's be honest -- frightening. The universe,
time and space, are way too immense to rule out anything just because
our primitive monkey brains can't grok it yet.

Another reason why cats suck

Listed in a story in the UK Guardian about feral children:

· Andrei Tolstyk, Siberia, abandoned by his parents as a baby. When discovered by social workers in 2004, aged seven, he walked on all fours and bit people; they believe he was raised by the family's dog.

· Traian Caldarar, seven, Romania, found living on the streets in 2002, three years after fleeing his mother's violent partner. Still the size of a three-year-old and with no speech, it is thought he had survived with help from stray dogs.

· John Ssebunya was found in the forest in Uganda, aged six, in 1989. He had fled a violent father, and for two years a group of African Grey monkeys accepted him as a peripheral member of their group.

· Ramu, found in Lucknow, India, in 1954, aged seven. His mother said he had been snatched by a wolf as a baby. He lapped milk, chewed bones and had an affinity with wolves in the zoo. Died in 1968.

You'd NEVER see a cat take an active role in the raising of a human being.

The long, dark water intoxication of the soul

A California woman died this week trying to win a Wii video
game system for her kids. Read the whole story here.

Contestants at a radio station were trying to "hold their wee for a Wii." They
started off drinking small bottles of water every 15 minutes
just to see who could hold out for the longest. The winner
won a Wii game system. The loser in this case got a massive
headache and died from hydro intoxication. It's real and it
happens. But what a stupid way to die for such a stupid thing.

I had mixed feelings about this issue. As a guy whose avocation
it is to comment on stories like this, I'd like to blame someone
or criticize something but who or what? Sure it's a stupid contest
based entirely around the notion that Wii sounds like wee.
Yes, it's dumb to have a water drinking/pee holding contest
but you wouldn't expect anyone to die from it. I mean, if
people don't die in hot dog eating contests, why would you
expect someone to die from drinking water and not peeing?
So even if this had been my idea, I think I'd have gotten passed
the guilt pretty quickly. No one was forced to do anything
against their will.

Then you kind of think it's nice that this woman was doing this
for her kids when she succumbed to death. But then you
quickly realize that not all acts of self sacrifice are equal. She didn't die
trying to save her kids from Nazis. She didn't die trying to
steal food for her kids. She didn't even die in traffic on her
way to work, which could be seen as a kind of noble sacrifice.
She died for a third-rate game system that her kids probably
just thought they had to have. But still I can't blame this woman
for wanting to do something stupid to win a game system for her
kids. We don't all get the chance to truly sacrifice for our kids
by saving them from sheer horror so it's nice that we can suffer
some discomfort to express our love.

But then I realized that this doesn't make me think so much about
the sacrifice of parents so much as it does how God damn selfish
kids can be. And yes that does include some of the crap I've pulled
in my life, though I have to say I'm an angel compared to some. I
suppose it's the nature of kids to try and get all they can get. It's
some kind of survival instinct that forces the weak and runty to
die. It's why older kids pick on the little ones and why if you
are pouring out to glasses of pop both kids will claim to be getting
the one with less in it. They start of crying to be held and fed
and end up crying that you didn't get them the Sims 2 expansion
pack they wanted. They turn their noses up at a $10 gift certificate
these days or a book. Or 23 hours worth of mp3s loving downloaded
and burned by hand. Or good advice.

It's hard to make an impression on kids. They have too much
stuff and not enough to do. As lazy and unused to work as I was a kid,
I worked like a slave compared to how under-worked kids are today. I walked
beans, bailed hay, milked cows, worked construction, washed dishes,
cut gladiolas (harder than it sounds) and flipped burgers.

Each entitled generation has less to do, fewer needs and more luxuries
to pine for. What an empty existence. It's not even better to give than
to receive in this case. One can get no joy from giving to someone who
thinks you could have done a lot better than you did when you did
a lot better for them than anyone ever did for you, at least in terms of
dollar amounts. I'd kill for someone to spend a buck fifty on a gift for
me that is actually meaningful.

And so we have one dead mother who died having a lark in order
to win a third-rate game system for kids whose first thought
upon hearing the bad news was "Why couldn't it have been an
Xbox 360?"

What is Tony Fox looking for this week?

ip68-13-175-78.om.om.cox.net (Cox Communications Inc)

Nebraska, Omaha, United States, 0 returning visits

Date	Time	WebPage
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Foxy Lady
The Story of Miss Ann
A Dances with Racist Skanks Film

A Dark Fox Flying Nachos
Production for Lifetime Television
copyright 2007

INTERIOR DAY
The empty foyer of a Victorian home. Children's shoes are lined up neatly on a mat by the door. A backpack and school jackets hang on hooks above the mat. A figure appears as a shadow through the curtained window of the front door. The doorbell rings. There is a pregnant foreshadowing pause and then the bell rings again.

A woman's voice (Ann)
Coming!

A middle-aged woman with a nice ass, maybe too tightly clenched, walks to the door and opens it. A handsome young mostly white man with black hair (Greg) in his late teens is at the door.

Ann
Well, hi there, mister, why'n'cha come on inside here?

Greg
Hi Miss Ann. Is your son, Todd, here?

Ann
Yes he is, but I tell you he's upstairs taking a nap as is my husband, coincidentally. Which is a real shame too 'cause my pot roast is all done and ain't no bugger here to eat it. Would you like some?

Greg
Why sure, Miss Ann. I could never say no to putting a tasty piece of meat in me.

Ann
What a coincidence, neither could I.

The pair move into the dining room where a lovely Norman Rockwell style dinner is laid out with four place settings. The two sit down and eat pot roast and have a casual conversation.

Ann
So Greg, did you know that Indians used to rape white women?

Greg
Well, gosh no, I didn't Miss Ann.

Ann
It's true, as far as I know and as a professional educator who is allowed to work with children of all races, ethnic backgrounds and socio-economic statuses, I would hardly just make up something like that now would I?

Greg
No ma'am, that would be effin' crazy.

Ann
Exactly. So I understand you have a little Indian in you Greg, is that right?

Greg
Why yes'm, but I ain't never raped me no white woman before.

Ann
Are you sure? Maybe you did it some night when the moon was full and the red skinned savage inside of you took over. Could you have done it then?

Greg
Maybe. I don't know. I don't think so. But I suppose anything is possible.

Ann
Uh-huh. Anywho, I've always wanted a little Indian in me, too.

Greg
What do you mean?

Ann
You know.

Greg
Nooooo.... I don't. What?

Ann
Yoouuuu knoooooow.

Greg
(Thinking long and hard) Oh, I think I know what you mean.

Ann
Really?

Greg
No. Not really.

Ann
Do I have to draw you a picture ... you dirty, dirty red skin?

Greg
OK, that might help.

Ann scribbles on a napkin turning it this way for a few seconds then turning it and scribbling furiously again. She pauses for a few seconds to appraise the drawing. Scribbles a few more details. Looks down approvingly, then pushes the napkin across the table to Greg. Greg looks down at the napkin. He turns his head to the left and then to the right without seeming to comprehend what he sees. Ann turns the napkin 180 degrees and then Greg's face registers sudden recognition.

Greg
Ohhhh. OK. I get it. What's that say?

Ann
Slippery when wet.

Greg throws up pot roast in his mouth just a little bit.

Greg
Oh God.

Ann
And I have to tell you ... the forecast is calling for mostly cloudy skies with a chance for drizzle.

[a bit of a pause]

Ann
You see, Greg, one might well ask what a grown, supposedly educated, woman would be doing prattling on about Indians raping white women over a hundred years ago. Well, I often fantasize about getting the shit raped out of me by Indians. It's just a thing I do to jump start the old libido. When you get to be my age, it takes an act of God or a really filthy bi-racial violation fantasy to get the motor running. Is it love? Not so much, but then after 20 years, neither is marriage. But why am I boring you with all this incessant chatter, you filthy savage, when we could be desecrating the sanctity of my living room with our bodily fluids.

Greg
Wait, let me get my purity list from my wallet first. There's a bunch of freaky shit on here I'd like to cross off ... if you don't mind?

Ann
Mind? I insist. Todd's got one of those. I understand he's already marked off a midget, an amputee's nub and "giving a chick a pearl necklace while thinking about a dude during group sex when you think your parents are asleep upstairs." Which one are you on?

Greg
Well, I was hoping to knock out hate fucking a racist and a friend's mother all in one go, but if I could add changing positions without taking it out and A to M then I get a bonus point for doing four things in one go. Two points if you piss on me for a finale.

Ann
Done and done!

[bompa chic-a-bomp baaah bomp bah dah for about 5-10 minutes]

CUT TO FOYER

Greg
Well that was different.

Ann
What a learning experience. I guess deep down, we really are all just the same in spite of our obvious and hideous racial differences.

Greg
Yeah. Well, thanks for the pot roast. Tell Todd I was here. Bye.

Ann
Bye. (aside) Oh you crazy kids. Where's my "hot water bottle?" Todd! Dinner's getting cold!

THE END

Hanauma Bay

This is just about my favorite place on the island of Oahu.
It's called Hanauma Bay. It's a beach inside an old collapsed
crater. To your left, it's open to the ocean. Just above those
white foamy breakers where the reefs are a little deeper is
where I almost drowned. I'm not a strong swimmer.
Those teal colored spots to the right are just like calm little
swimming pools, which is funny really 'cause they are the
same color as most municipal swimming pools. Not a coincidence,
I'm sure.

What I'm Up to Today

1. getting a haircut


2. donating to the Salvation Army


3. doing laundry


4. writing a porn script featuring my friend's racist mom


5. Christmas shopping

Lifetime Movie Titles of the Week

Entertaining Angels: The Dorothy Day Story
(Bio) 1996 PG-13 CC The human-rights activist helps the poor in the 1900s. **

Dying to Be Perfect: The Ellen Hart Pena Story
(Doc) 1996 NR TV-PG CC An Olympic hopeful dates the mayor of Denver and hides her bulimia until becoming pregnant. **

Calendar Girl, Cop, Killer? The Bambi Bembenek Story
(Doc) 1992 NR TV-14 CC The saga of a colorful Milwaukee woman convicted in 1982 for killing her husband's ex-wife. **+

Triumph Over Disaster: The Hurricane Andrew Story
(Doc) 1993 NR TV-PG CC A Miami weatherman broadcasts during a storm. *+

Gift of Love: The Daniel Huffman Story
(Drama) 1999 NR TV-PG CC A teen makes his ailing grandmother an offer.

The Weak and the Meek

"Don't you shake your God damn head at me
you runty piece of shit or I'll shove you
back inside your mama's cooch until you're
big enough to have your ass kickked properly."

I never could stand little fellas with a
chip on their shoulders. Always runnin'
around like they got something to prove.
I don't know, maybe they do, but why is it
always to me?

I've had one or two buddies a little under
the norm when it came to height, but I never
thought of them as different or special unless
they screwed with me. Then nature took its
course I reckon. I mean, you got to be a little
on the stupid side to mess with someone whose
bigger than you whether he's your friend or not.
The pecking order exists for a reason and even
though I'm a big guy I've found myself on the
lower end of it plenty just because I've never
liked to fight or get into pissing contests with anybody
and that includes friends. I don't like it because when
it starts I don't back down and I will piss until I win.
I've always got a nuclear option ready to deploy.

You know, when you're a kid and you get to wrestling
with your friends, it's fun until somebody gets hurt. And
somebody always gets hurt. Then suddenly you're a bad
guy who plays too rough when the truth is you've been
pulling your punches and playing at half strength and letting
the little guys win once in a while since you were 5.

Now, what gets me is how many pussies will actually think
they beat you. More likely, they know they didn't beat you
but think everyone else watching thinks that you did and
they run with it. So next time around they lose. And they little
guys never have to hold back. A kid 20-30 pounds lighter than
you might well be able to hit you full on and not knock you down,
but it still hurts when he sticks his bony elbow in your ribs in
imitation of some pro-wrestling superstar.

So you can pull your punches all you want, but physics will
eventually prevail. And it's about that point that I start
looking like a sociopath. I was never as lithe or confident in
my body as the other kids who could go balls out, so I was
never able to grow into my bigness. I was just a moose.
So I opted out until someone needed an anchor for tug o' war.

Ironically, I have a chip on my should like a lot of little guys
thewe days. I never pull my punches any more. If you step to me,
I don't care if you're 3-feet tall or 7 1/2, I'm taking you down by
whatever means are required. That usually means something
other than fisticuffs these days. It usually calls for a combination
of a cutting wit and intimidation. You can throw Oscar Wilde
off his game if he thinks the exchange of barbs is going to break
down into brouhaha. Fear of imminent ass-beating can throw
even the most erudite wordsmith off his game leaving him
primed for a verbal routing.

It's funny how things turn out. I've been picked on by little
guys more times than I can count and any example of me defending
myself is looked upon with scorn. What a fucked up world where the
meek are condemned for defending themselves from the weak.

This is Why People Hate Cops pt 3

Cops get away with murder because we let them.
The guy in your high school who couldn't wait to
kick a little ass or get involved in other people's
fights while pretending he was doing it for valorous
reasons when really he was just a tool... that guy
wants to be a cop. He wants to be a cop because he
thinks it's the job of cops to drive around intimidating
people and keeping order through fear. They are
typically unimaginative to the point where they think
it's cool to break the law if it gets them close enough
to someone they can label a criminal so they can
look like a hero.

It is no surprise to me that so many serial killers have
a fascination with law enforcement and often try to become
cops. They are most often cut from the same cloth, have the
same background of abuse, anti-social tendencies and
disdain for the common man.

I played my little traffic stop perfectly. It's funny to me
to see a cop try so hard to get someone who hasn't done
anything wrong to cross the line so he can "legitimately"
give them a ticket. What did he think I was gonna do, start
ranting like a damn mad man just so he could justify slapping
the cuffs on me? I reckon I can't hardly blame the stupid
animal, it probably works on a certain percentage of the
population who, angry for all the right reasons, express
it in the worst possible way at the worst possible time.

The only regret I have is that I didn't ask for the pig's name
and badge number. Cops have bosses too and they don't like
having to discipline a "brother pig" because some scumbag
"citizen" made some noise, threatened them with the other
kind of legal action or unwanted press attention. Both of which --
and I cannot stress this enough -- are totally appropriate
measures to keep cops in line. Someone has GOT to watch
the watchmen. Cops are NOT the law, they are security
guards paid to keep the peace and uphold the Constitution
of the United States. If and when they fail, they are no better
than the criminals they are paid to wrangle. In my opinion, they
are worse for having betrayed the public trust.

This is Why People Hate Cops pt 2

So there I am, sitting on the shoulder waiting for this
piece of shit cop to squeeze his ass out of his cruiser
and waddle up to my window because I was flippin'
ready for his ass. Purposely driving like a madman
just to entice a motorist is crossing the line. I'm sure
this dipshit gets away with this crap all the time because
most people get a little irritated while driving ESPECIALLY
when someone almost causes an accident. Then a cop
accuses them of being aggressive and they feel sheepish
and admit to whatever the cop wants to lay on them.
Either that or they get righteously pissed off and understandably
agitated and the cop once again gets away with it.

I don't fall for that.

So here's what really gets me. This pig comes up to my
window and instead of asking for my papers says, "Did
you need something?" That's the biggest dick move there
is. I know because I've used it myself when some impatient
jackass honked at me to get a move on in a parking lot or
something when I'd be moving if it were safe to proceed. But
I'm not a cop who took an oath to uphold the law who has some
obligation to be a bit of a professional.

"Do I need something? Yeah, I needed you to merge."

"Well, the horn is only supposed to be used in case of an
emergency. I can show you the code if you'd like."

"Well I guess the emergency is that I thought you were
going to cause an accident."

"May I see your license, registration and proof of insurance,
please ... sir."

It was that little slur on sir that erased any lingering
doubts I had about what kind of cop I was dealing with.
You see, cops are all the same. I know one or two I like,
but even so, 99% of all cops think they are themselves
the law. They think anyone who is out after dark has
to be drunk or muling drugs in their ass. They think
nothing of entrapment or pushing the limits of what is
acceptable. They'd love to be able to search us all, shake
us down and incarcerate everyone because only in that
police state will the world be a good and decent place.

No matter how bad a dude I might think myself, the
truth is, I don't do a God damn thing. I don't do drugs.
I rarely drink or even go out. I once clocked a dude at
a midnight screening of "The Goonies," but he hit me
first. Still I tend to think of myself as guilty of something
all the time because that's just how I was raised. It's more
of an existential crisis than anything.

So I grab my license and get my registration from the
glove box. I just got my proof of insurance last week
and threw it on the passenger seat in the envelope. So
I start opening the envelope and I get this from the
cop:

"You seem kind of agitated, sir."

"Really?!"

"Well, your ripping things up and throwing them
around the car," he said trying to offer misleading
audio description for the video tape camera in his car
which couldn't actually see what's going on.

"I'm opening the envelope that contains my insurance
card ... officer."

By this time, Pigboy has got to know he's not dealing
the average bear. He's tried baiting me and distorting
potential evidence. It's a real sham and while my anger
was there beneath the surface, on top, I was all Zen.
I mean, how else do you open an envelope? You rip paper,
am I right.

So here we are just lingering. I'm showing no fear and giving
no excuses. The "witty" banter portion of this sham of a traffic
stop seems to be over.

"I won't give you a ticket this time. Be careful getting back
the interstate and remember to wear you seat belt."

"Oh thank you ... officer ... I really appreciate it," I said
dripping with sarcasm (in case the italics above didn't
translate my contempt effectively enough).

It was at that point that I should have asked for the fucker's
name and badge number, but like most people I just wanted
to get the hell on my way, you know. I wasn't really surprised
that he didn't give me a ticket though, even though I wasn't
wearing my seat belt. And I'll tell you why that is in part 3.

[to be cont'd]