More Bumper Stickers

S’more bumper stickers I wish someone would print up for me

Palin for Vice President

Now I realize that to get Mrs. Palin we have to go ahead and elect the RINO at the top of the ticket, but one can fantasize, right?

Imagine: A World Where Drivers Used the Correct Lane

This would be a pun off the Liberal “Imagine: a world with no war”. The area around Atlanta GA (which takes up an area larger than New Jersey) is known for the ignorance of it’s drivers. Not only do the get ticked off if you click your lights at them  (like is explained in that driver’s manual they give you when you’re 15) they also seem to have no knowledge of why there are two lanes on the Interstate. These guys will just sit in the passing lane beside an 18-wheeler that has been governed down to 60MPH to save gas. Some deep part of my brain, the part that actually enjoyed statics classes and static physics classes, is amazed to watch an entire interstate come to a complete stop all because of one car. The frontal lobe is always glad I’m watching from the other side of the divided highway.

I’m not Speeding
I’m Impersonating A Police Officer

I’d just like to get pulled over for the correct crime once.

Druck Hunter?

Does anybody else listen to this story about John Edward’s love child and feel like they are reading a Dick Tracey novel?

The mistress’s name was ‘Druck’ (duck). She has changed it to ‘Hunter’. Her best friend (who is all over the news talking about the affair) is named ‘Pigeon’.

And of course, Edwards, being a Democrat politician, qualifies as a horn dog…

Stupidity

Stupidity: v 1) The act of an insurance company denying to pay for a chiropractor visit, even though that visit would help their client get better and cost them less money in the long run.

Small Things

We always say to thank God for the small things. I’m thanking him for about 12 inches.

Wednesday I was crossing a major divided 4 lane highway at a red light. As I entered the intersection I saw a car coming from my left very fast. I got enough of a look to call him doing at least 50 but I would say at least 60 MPH. I stomped the gas but he caught me right behind the door. I had just enough time to think, “Oh crap, did I run that light?” But as I looked up the lights were green.

I saw them two more times as the truck went around. Blessedly most of the momentum went into spinning my truck instead of crushing and flipping it. I was headed East. On the North-bound side of the the 4-lane there are two straight lanes and a turning lane. A lane width of checkered asphalt separates the turning lane. I ended up in this checkered “land” facing south without hitting any of the cars that were going north. Not sure how I did that, I was just holding on.

There were two cars sitting in the turning lane and 6 going straight. Everybody drove off. One of the cars going straight was sitting right beside me. The lady looked me right in the eye (and I’m sure I looked like Casper) and just drove away. I was kinda miffed at the time; I’m right pissed off now. The traffic report gave no fault because no witnesses could prove which one of us ran the red light. The fact that I remember everything and could tell the trooper about the cars driving off meant just as little as the other guy being knocked out and asking me what happened. I guess when he said the light was green, that held equal weight.

Whatever. I was in a work truck, so workman’s comp is taking care of my x-rays and Physical Therapy. Speaking of which, I have discovered a new level of hell: the bureaucrat level. If you have never had to go though a workman’s comp claim, trust me, it’s almost better to die in the accident.

Anyway, I’m OK. Truck’s dead. I’m driving a wore-out ashtray on loan from the Hatchery. Life goes on.

Addendum:

I got a chance to go back to the scene. I approached the light from the same direction as the guy that hit me. I will agree with several of the locals; you really do not have a good look at the light. It seems to pop out from behind a small hill. If it’s red you’d need to be on the breaks before you ever see the light.

The light turned yellow just as I was pulling into the turning lane, so I stopped. I had been setting at the red light for a good 3 to 5 seconds when an 18 wheeler ran though the red light just as the guy had done with me. All I could think was “thank you, Lord, it was the Grande Prix and not the 18-wheeler that hit me.”

I think that Freight-shaker woulda shook me up.

Yet Another Reason: Bumper Stickers

Yet another reason that I could never be elected President (or any other high office).

If I were President, I would put one of those “Drill Here, Drill Now, Pay Less” bumper stickers on the back of Air Force One.

Come to think of it I would probably put one of those “Annoy a Liberal” stickers on the back of the Presidential Limo too.

Reccession

The swan and I took a trip into the great metropolis of Hotlanta this weekend.

While we were waiting in line to buy 4 dollar gas I noticed that every pump had a car parked at it. In fact, Friday when I was filling up my work truck, I had to wait for someone to get out of the way to get gas.

Once we got started heading down the Interstate, trafic flowed pretty well, but it was full of cars. We spent the night wth the in-laws and, of course, turned on a baseball game. The stands were full.

On our way home we realised we had left some items we sould need durring the week, so we pealed off at the Mall of Georgia to hit the target store. We had to travel about a mile from the Interstate; it took us 20 minutes. The streets around the mall were packed with traffic. The mall parking lot was full to the brim.

The trip home on the Interstate was stop and go because of all the traffic on the road.

So, just where is this reccession? Looks to me like people are traveling and shopping and attending expensive baseball games. I’d think if times were as bleak as they are protrayed in the news that there’d be les of all that going on.

Boiling Frogs

The frogs were all in their pot sitting on the stove, minding their own business like they always do.

“Say there, Rrricco.” croaked Crrraig. “Your spot in the pan is under the handle. If I had that spot, I could collect the water condensing on the screws and provide us all with a cool drink.”

It was getting warmer, they all noted.

“But I do not want to give up my spot.” said Rrricco. “I have had this spot since we have been here and I like it.”

“Well, I will trade you my spot.” Crrraig offered. “It is a nice spot, you will find. Quite a fair trade I think.”

“It is a nice spot, but it is not my spot. I like this spot and will keep it.” Rrricco said with finality.

“Well, what say the rest of you?” Crrraig asked. “If I were to have Rrricco’s spot in the pan, I could get cool water for the rest of us. Everyone would benefit.”

It was getting warmer, they all agreed.

The frogs all conferred. It would be good for everyone if Crrraig were given Rrricco’s spot in the pan. But it was Rrricco’s spot, could they take it away?

Just then the Judge walked by. They had decided he had to be a judge, he wore a tall white hat.

“Sir! Oh sir!” called Rrrichard. “Could you help us with a matter?”

The frogs all agreed the judge was wise and was the man to turn to when they could not settle a dispute themselves.

“What seems to be the matter,” said the judge.

“Well, see.” Rrrichard explained, “Rrricco has the spot over there under the handle bolts. If Crrriag had that spot he could collect the cool water and we could all have a drink. But it is Rrricco’s spot and we do not know if we should make Rrricco give it up.”

“Hmm.” said the Judge. “That is a tough one. Rrricco has a right to that spot, because he found it first.” The Judge rubbed his hand on his chin. “It would be my thought that the greater good should prevail, that the end that helps the most people should be followed.”

The frogs all seemed to like that. They wanted some of that cool water. It was getting warm, after all. All the frogs like it, but one.

“But this is my spot and I want to keep it.” said Rrricco

“Oh, Sir! Can you help us?” croaked Rrrichard.

“I can only help if you give me the authority to do so. This is your pot.” Stated the judge.

The frogs conferred and decided to give the judge the authority. All the frogs voted, all but one, to let the Judge set right the problem. The Judge took his big wooden spoon and scooped up Rrricco and plopped him down in Crrraig’s spot. Crrraig moved to Rrricco’s old spot and began collecting the cool water.

“That should do it.” said the Judge. With that he reached down under the pot and turned a knob up one notch, then walked away.

Rrricco was quite put out with having his spot taken away from him. After a while, he rolled up some lily pad leaves he had brought with him and began to smoke them. The other frogs at first tried to ignore the smoke. Then they tried to move away from the smoke. After a while it was just too much. It was Tadd who finally spoke up.

“Mr. Rrricco sir, could you please put out your cigarette?” Tadd asked.

“No I don’t think I will.” said Rrricco. “I want to smoke my cigarette and I am free to do as I please in this new spot you have put me in.”

“But Mr. Rrricco, your smoke is blowing over here and I do not want to breath it.” Tadd complained.

“Very well.” Rrricco said. “When the Judge comes back by, I will ask him to turn the fan on, to pull the smoke away.”

This agreement kept everyone content for a little while. Then Mrs. Rrrachael pointed out that Rrricco really should not be smoking the cigarette for his own good. Then Mrs. Carrrol said she did not think that the fan would pull enough of the smoke away when it was turned on and they would still smell it.

When the Judge came back by, the frogs all tried to speak at once. Rrricco was saying that he thought he should be able to do as he pleased on his own spot in the pan and that he would be willing to have the fan pull his smoke away. Tadd was almost in tears saying he did not want to smell the smoke. Mrs. Carrrol was stating that she did not think the fan would pull all the smoke away and Mrs. Rrrachael told the Judge that she thought Rrricco should not be smoking for his own health.

The Judge listened intently for a few minutes then waved the frogs to silence. “I think that this cigarette has caused entirely too much of a fuss. It would just be easier if we did not have cigarettes. I want all the frogs to hand over any lilly pad products they have.”

Rrricco looked around at a few of the other frogs that he knew used lilly pads. They all looked upset, but they were far out numbered. Mrs. Carrrol had a smug look on her face. Slowly Rrricco and several other frogs handed over their lilly pads.

“Thank you very much.” the Judge said. And before he left, he turned the knob below the pan.

“Well, I’m glad we got that done with,” Rrrachael said, “as hot as it is getting the last thing we needed was artificial smoke”

They all agreed; it was getting hot.

Then Crrraig spotted a June bug. He loved June bugs; they were his favorite. Quickly, Crrraig snatched the June bug out of the air.

“What is that?” cried the Judge. He had walked up to the pan. “What are you eating?”

Crrraig moved the June bug to his cheek. “Ith a Jun gug.”

“A June bug!” the Judge cried. “Spit it out. Spit it out now.” He held his spoon out to Crrraig for him to spit the bug into.

“Buth Jun gugs are mff favorite.” Crrraig said nearly choking on the June bug.

“Spit it out now.” the Judge demanded. His tall white hat was shaking as he spoke.

Crrraig spit the June bug out.

“June bugs are not good for you.” the Judge said. “You may eat all the house flies you want, but you may not eat June bugs.”

“Wait,” said Crrraig. “Who are you to tell us what we can eat?”

“You are the ones who gave me the authority.” said the Judge. “You let me decide if you could smoke because it was not good for you. Now I am deciding that June bugs are not good for you.”

And as he left, the Judge turned the knob below the pan.

The frogs started to notice there were bubbles forming in the pan.

And it was getting hot, they all agreed.

Some time later the Judge came back by. “So,” asked the Judge, “why do some of you have brightly colored backs?”

“Oh,” Those are to protect us.” explained Rrrick. “Its poison.”

“Poison!” cried the Judge. “That sounds dangerous.”

“Only if you are on the receiving end.” Rrrick said with a wink.

“Hmm” said the Judge. He walked away and came back after a few minutes carrying a syringe and a needle.

“OK” announced the Judge. “This shot will neutralize the poison in your backs.”

“But!” croaked Rrrick, “how will we protect ourselves?”

The Judge smiled, “You don’t need to protect yourselves. I am here to protect you.”

The Judge gave each of those with colored backs a shot. Then he turned the knob below the pan as he left.

Everyone noticed it was getting hot in the pan.

“I’m not feeling so well.” said Tadd.

There was some mutterings amongst the frogs. There were several of them who were not feeling well. The doctor started making his rounds checking on the sick. This did not go so well though. Many of the frogs did not feel as if the doctor was making them feel any better. Then some others could not afford to pay him.

Crrraig could pay the doctor, because he had the cool water from the handle bolts. Many of the others could not pay though. A few were even bold enough to say that the doctor should take care of people without getting paid. Some of the frogs began saying that when the Judge came back around, they would have him take care of them instead of the doctor.

Soon the Judge did come back by. “Mr. Judge, sir.” said Tadd. “Many of us are not feeling so well. Can you take care of us?”

The Judge smiled. Many of the frogs beamed at his smile, but Rrricco thought his smiled looked a little evil.

“Of course I will take care of you.” said the Judge.

Then the Judge turned the knob under the pan again.

Deep Thoughts: Oldies NASCAR

Is this a sign of the times? The radio station in Atlanta covering NASCAR events is no longer a country music station.

It is an oldies station.

Bull’s Eye for the Court

The Supreme Court Struck Down D.C. Gun Ban

The above is a picture of the Rooster’s Ruger P90 .45 caliber, stainless steal with decocking safety. who-ah.

God Bless America.

Deep Thoughts: None of Them

I’ve been looking over the remaining two candidates and thinking back to the rather anemic crop we originally had to pick from. I was wondering if, when this whole debacle is over, I could get a bumper sticker that said “Don’t blame me, I didn’t vote for any of them.”