I fought The Law...

For those of you that don't yet know, I recently bought a piece of crap Pontiac Grand Am solely for the purpose of commuting to and from work in the winter. Apart from the pool of water in the trunk that pours out into the interior of the car and all over my feet, and a driver door window that won't open, the driver seatbelt clip is ripped off which makes it a real pain in the ass to buckle up when I get in the car. Combine that little problem with the fact that I have to wear 17 layers of clothes these days just to keep warm (making it difficult to put my arms down), and attaching my seatbelt in the morning is like strapping into a carnival ride, only without the toothless hillbilly in a torn red bandana to help.

But every morning after swearing a bit and (literally) splashing around trying to get myself into position to properly intercourse the two pieces of metal, I succeed and drive up the driveway to work, an errant belt screeching protest under the hood. This morning was no exception.

My ride takes me through two neighborhoods that I wouldn't otherwise have any reason to visit, nor do I expect would I generally be all that welcome. These are, coincidentally, also the types of neighborhoods where the police get in the habit, apparently, of pulling people over for the lamest of reasons - maybe they are hoping (or expecting) that when the driver window rolls down a cloud of pot smoke will billow out or there will be a pile of AK-47's in the passenger seat and they can put one more hatchmark in the monthly quota of arrests column.

This morning I was stopped at a particularly vexingly long stop light, listening to the radio and pretending I was in a lawn chair on the beach in Tahiti with my woman instead of bundled into a leather coat, scarf, wool hat, and gloves breathing in exhaust fumes on my way to the widget factory with all of the other lemmings. A police car pulled up to the left of me (in the left turn lane) and stopped a few feet in front of my car. It was obvious that he saw something of interest and was stopping to get a closer look - he was about 20 feet from the car in front of him.

I looked around and there was a guy walking up the sidewalk next to my car. He saw the cop, turned around and looked behind him, and then ducked into a bus stop shelter. I figured that his day was about to get worse, that the cop was going to harass him somehow, and went back about my business of pretending I wasn't there. The left turn light went green, and I watched the cop pull up to the front of the line and then cut into my lane, almost causing an accident.

As the lemming line started pulling forward, he pulled into a gas station and then turned around to position himself to pull back out into the road. I thought he was turning around, and thought nothing of it as I drove past him. As I did, however, he pulled out behind me and turned on his lights. Not having done anything wrong I assumed he was just going to pass me, but instead he pulled up right behind me. I pulled over and started the long laborious process of rolling my window down, which, because the motor is almost shot always makes me worry that it won't go back up. It finally finished squeaking down as he came up to the car, hand on his gun.

I thought that was a little extreme, but given the neighborhood (I was headed into the ghetto, an area I flirt with on the way to and from work in order to avoid the rest of suburbia's commuters) I figured better safe than sorry. I stopped reaching into my pocket for my wallet and put my hands on my lap where he could see them.

"I pulled you over because of your seatbelt" he said authoritatively.

"This one?" I said, pulling it up off of my chest into view.

"Yeah, well, when I drove by your before you weren't wearing it."

"Uh, yeah, I was."

He got pissed. "WHAT did you say?"

"Sir, I've been wearing my seatbelt since I pulled out of my garage."

He relaxed visibly at this, as if the fact that I said I had been following the law from the get-go meant he was no longer in danger.

"Oh. OK. You're free to go." He said, waved his hand at the road, and then walked back to his car.

Now, here's the thing. I know that he's got a job to do. But enforcing the seatbelt law? Really? I always sort of thought that was the sort of thing where if you got pulled over for something else they would give you a citation for not wearing your seatbelt if you happened to be stupid enough to leave it unbuckled. I never dreamed that people actually got pulled over for something like this. And certainly not with the cars full of pot smoke and automatic weapons driving around nearby.

Perhaps most ironic is the fact that he nearly caused an accident in front of me for the explicit purpose of pulling me over because I'm not wearing a seatbelt - which presumably he wants me to wear so that I don't get injured in an accident???

I'm thinking about painting the seatbelt in my Grand Slam bright orange so I don't get frivolously pulled over again, just in case I forget to put away the AK-47s in my front seat...

I'm working, you asshat.

I spent the entire day in my cubicle today, which is actually rare - usually we work in a more collaborative environment here at The Grind (they call it "hotelling", but I call it "hunting for a new place to sit each morning and always carrying your stuff around with you every where you go"). Maybe I was just in a snarky mood, but everyone around me was pissing me right the fuck off all day. Here are a list of my grievances:

• I really do appreciate that you are listening to Cheney Kesney on your headphones, presumably you realize that nobody else wants to hear that shit. But when you turn it up so loud that I can hear it reverberating around your empty head and tap your foot along to the beat loudly, it kind of defeats the purpose of using the headphones in the first place, doesn't it? You may as well strap me down and drip water drop by drop on my forehead until I go crazy and start hallucinating little green men crawling up my arm. A few more days of this and I may just show your earbuds up your nose and strangle you with the cord.Or maybe I'll crank Snoop Dee Oh Double-Gizzle on my computer. Nobody ever thought twice about confronting a country music fan because his music is too loud, but Snoop on the other hand...


• LEARN HOW TO CHANGE YOUR RINGTONE FROM THE DEFAULT "CINGULAR" TONE OR "HELLO FUCKING MOTO" to something that doesn't make me want to throw my desk chair through the window and dive after it. I know 10 year olds that are more technically saavy with regards to coffee makers than you are with regards to your cell phone, which presumably you can't live without since it rings constantly all day - EVEN WHEN YOU ARE IN A MEETING AND LEFT IT ON YOUR DESK. Nobody should have to hear your damn ringtone, no matter what it is, ever, but at least PUT IT ON VIBRATE WHEN YOU ARE AT WORK WITH THE BIG BOYS.


• I get that you are on your feet all day delivering memos and mail and whatnot, and I would imagine that your piggies get a little sore after marching all over the building all day. But first of all, Crocks are not dress casual, they are JUST PLAIN casual. They don't belong in a work environment, even on dress-down Fridays. But more importantly, if your Crocks squeak with every step, have some humility and please make every effort to get run over by a cement mixer on your way to your car tonight after work. You squeaking with every step when your job is to walk around the entire office all day is like me saying every word I type out loud as I type it.


• If you are going to eat chips or anything that crunches louder than oatmeal, DO IT IN THE KITCHEN or learn to eat with your lips sealed. Seriously, that's as disgusting to me as watching a fat lady change her tampon.

911 is a Joke [Public Enemy]

Hit me
Going going gone
Now I dialed 911 a long time ago
Don't you see how late they're reactin'
They only come and they come when they wanna
So get the morgue embalm the goner
They don't care 'cause they stay paid anyway
They teach ya like an ace they can't be betrayed
I know you stumble with no use people
If your life is on the line they you're dead today
Late comings with the late comin' stretcher
That's a body bag in disguise y'all betcha
I call 'em body snatchers quick they come to fetch ya?
With an autopsy ambulance just to dissect ya
They are the kings 'cause they swing amputation
Lose your arms, your legs to them it's compilation
I can prove it to you watch the rotation
It all adds up to a funky situation
So get up get, get get down
911 is a joke in yo town
Get up, get, get, get down
Late 911 wears the late crown

911 is a joke

Everyday they don't never come correct
You can ask my man right here with the broken neck
He's a witness to the job never bein' done
He would've been in full in 8 9-11
Was a joke 'cause they always jokin'
They the token to your life when it's croakin'
They need to be in a pawn shop on a
911 is a joke we don't want 'em
I call a cab 'cause a cab will come quicker
The doctors huddle up and call a flea flicker
The reason that I say that 'cause they
Flick you off like fleas
They be laughin' at ya while you're crawlin' on your knees
And to the strength so go the length
Thinkin' you are first when you really are tenth
You better wake up and smell the real flavor
Cause 911 is a fake life saver

So get up, get, get get down
911 is a joke in yo town
Get up, get, get, get down
Late 911 wears the late crown