DO YOU SMELL BACON? I DEFINITELY SMELL A PORK PRODUCT OF SOME KIND...

BREAKIN THE LAW, BREAKIN THE LAW A few months ago I was in the the car with my wife and my father on the way to Willow Grove (an area in the suburbs of Philadelphia). We were passing through the town of Glenside, driving down a large hill with a light at the bottom. As I neared the light, it turned yellow and I proceeded through it, as one does with a yellow light (well everyone except my mother who would come to a screeching halt). Within a few seconds a cop pulled out behind me, threw his lights on, and pulled me over. Now I'm sure there wasn't something more pressing for this officer to be doing at the moment, like say, preventing a crime, but he thought it was necessary to pull me over so I obliged. I still had no idea why he had pulled me over when he approached the car. He asked for my license and registration, both of which I provided. "Do you know why I pulled you over?" The officer asked. Sure I knew why he pulled me over. He had a raging hard-on for exerting power. Chances are he took his copy of my ticket home that night and jerked off to it. "I have no idea officer," I calmly replied. "No idea?" he inquired. Uh, did I stutter? You asked me, I said I had no idea, was that unclear? "No idea," I reiterated. Obviously he was confused, had I used a big word by mistake? He looked at me over the top of his bad-ass police issued sunglasses. "Have you ever heard of a red light before?" Look asshole, I just handed you my license, I've been driving for 11 years and have never received a ticket before. Do you think I've heard of a red light? Have you heard of a fucking doughnut? "Yes I've heard of a red light before," I informed Sergeant Obvious. "Well you just ran one," he countered. Was he trying to use the jedi mind trick on me? The force was strong with this one. I wasn't buying it. I kindly informed him that, contrary to his belief, I had not run the red light. He once again informed me that I had. This went back and forth for a few minutes at which point he returned to his car for several minutes, and then returned to mine, ticket in hand. I was informed that I was being issued a ticket for running a red light (I mean he'd been gone several minutes, obviously in his mind that was enough time for me to totally forget why I had been pulled over) and told me I was free to go. Surprised that someone with his mental capacity could ever write out a ticket, I took a minute to look it over. I had indeed been charged 30$ for running a red-light, another 25$ for the Glenside firefighters' widow's fund, another 25$ for the Glenside children's computer fund, and an additional $25 for the Glenside library fund. I was furious. Fuck Glenside. Fuck its' firefighters. Fuck it's children and their computers. Fuck their library and literacy. Fuck it's pigs. I was not going to take this sitting down. I decided to fight the ticket. I COMPLETELY CHANGE THE SUBJECT I bet all of you readers out there were expecting me to dive right into the court experience (almost as infuriating as being pulled over was) but if I tell you that story right now, you might not come back later for the conclusion, so you'll have to wait. I would like to take this time to discuss something else very near and dear to my heart with you. Wait for it...wait for it...That something is my hatred for the people of Boston. I hate Boston. There, I said it. I've already declared my hatred for New Jersey so we might as well add Boston, hell, all of Massachusetts to the list. I didn't always feel this way you know. I actually at one point made a decision that I liked Amherst enough to attend college at the University of Massachusetts. Then, I actually attended it. The love affair would be short lived. Sure lots of things get me worked up, but very few like the accent of a Bostonian. Take a simple phrase like: I drove my car to the bar and got drunk. Now let's translate that into Bostonian. I drove my cah to the bah, and got wicked retahded. How fucked up is that? Not only do Bostonians refuse to pronounce the R sound at the end of a syllable, it's like they are actually saving them up to add to words that don't need them. Had any good ideas recently? Bostonians haven't. They've just had good ideaRs. What in the fuck is an ideaR? If you need a visual aid, I'm sure one of them would be happy to drawR you a picture. As I have stated before I am also a bitter Philadelphia sports fan. While at UMASS I sat through a Patriot's Superbowl victory while my beloved Eagles got bounced out of the playoffs by the candy-ass Rams. Am I bitter? I bet you have a pretty good ideaR of the answer. Sure, for a while any Bostonian could be brought down from their mighty Superbowl victory pedestal by the mere mention of the Redsox and the two numbers 19 18. Even after 2 Superbowls it still worked. But then the Redsox had to go and win the World Series and fuck all that up. So they get 3 Superbowls and a World Series within 4 years and Philly hasn't won anything in well over 20. Sure that's fair. The kicker is, most of them were probably too drunk to notice any of it. THAT'S RIGHT, I'M A MINUTE MAN Normally this isn't something you'd find guys saying openly. The obvious connotation being a fellow who's good for a whopping 60 seconds of good old fashioned baby making (or at least some serious practice). While this isn't my case (I swear baby nothing like this has ever happened before) I still find myself labeled thusly. Why is this? That's right folks, another big "fuck you wherever you go for the rest of your life" from our good friends from Massachusetts who thought it wise to name the UMASS mascot the Minute Men. I'm sure they thought that because this meant something completely different hundreds of years ago that it makes up for the recent terminology. Wrong again Massholes. Maybe if you all put the Sam Adams Lager down for a second you'd be able to keep it up for more than 60. Work it out. As for me, I actually only completed 3 years at UMASS anyway. I've been thinking of transferring my credits to another Institute of higher learning in the hopes of one day being labeled something much more manly like a Tiger or a Game Cock. I'll keep you posted. I DO SOME DEEP UNDERCOVER WORK Many of you may have noticed I was quite harsh to fat people in my last installment. Think I jumped the gun a little bit? I'll have you know that piece was very well researched. In fact, from 1990-1994 I myself went undercover as a fat person. I didn't get in so deep as to be one of the people I mentioned before, there are many subtle levels of the narrowly-challenged, but I was believable enough to be asked to do the truffle shuffle, and to receive a decent amount of titty-twisters from some of the more fit guys in my grade. I find when bashing someone it's best to walk in their shoes and get in their heads. When I was done I developed an ingenious idea to return to my slimmer former self, I developed diabetes. Take that zone diet. I'LL HAVE BURGER, WELL DONE, HOLD THE STUPIDITY Sometimes just when I think that you can't possibly be any dumber, you do something like this, and totally redeem yourself! Stupid people will never cease to amaze me. We'll be discussing them often on this blog site boys and girls. What follows, is the SPOON FULL OF TRUTH stupid act of the week. I like hamburgers. They taste good. Do I think it's cruel to slaughter cows just to eat them? Check my first ever blog post, my opinion on the food chain is clearly stated. One day a friend and I went out for hamburgers. I was thinking bacon-cheese burger all the way. In the burger hierarchy, the bacon cheese burger is King. I was all set to order when something caught my attention. A bacon cheese burger was priced at $7.75. A plain burger was priced at $7 even. There was an option to add toppings to a plain burger for .25 cents each. Among the list of toppings available were both bacon and cheese. The waitress came to take our order at which point I informed her I would like a plain burger (well done) with both bacon and cheese added to it. Total cost: $7.50. "So you'd like a bacon cheese burger?" she repeated back to me. She wasn't the brightest bulb on the tree. I had declared an intelligence war, my opponent was clearly unarmed. "No, I would like a plain burger, and add bacon and add cheese," I said again. What did this waitress and a clean cut white kid in the middle of North Philly have in common? Both are totally lost. I decided I was going to have to explain the situation. I proceeded to lay out the brilliant pricing scheme her smart-as-nails boss had chosen to use in burger establishment in which she found herself currently employed. You think that would have helped. I explained it again. She shook her head as if she understood and left the table. The burger with bacon and cheese was excellent. Total cost on the bill: $7.75. I paid it. Let's just hope she put the extra quarter towards a stellar 2nd grade education. Maybe she'll be lucky and get into the same class as George Bush. DON'T FORGET TO TIP YOUR WAITRESS That's all for tonight folks, drive safely, don't forget to tip your waitress, her education may depend on it.