If the devil was smart, of course, he
…at least for me. No, get your mind out of the toilet–that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the top ten irritating things that other drivers do. And hogging the left lane is much more irritating to me than someone on a cell phone. My attitude toward cell phone use is like my attitude toward drug use–if it impairs your driving, then don’t do it, but I don’t care about it intrinsically.
The Freepers have comments, and I agree with this one (slightly edited):
No.2 is the worst.
In fact. No.2 causes every single one of the other annoyances.
All of them.
The slow “safe” drivers are the most unsafe drivers around.
They are indecisive, scared, do not follow the flow, have no clue about the passing lane, and do not use their blinkers.
They cause people rage, especially because they will not get ticketed, even though they are causing the biggest problems.
Someone speeding 10 mph over the speed limit with the flow and control of a car is not a safety hazard at all.
Slow idiots with no clue are.
The “Rainbow People” have apparently shat in their own nest. I’m shocked, shocked!
…hey, I guess it can happen anywhere:
State fire officials say a Woodside-area man was seriously burned last night in an explosion after he poured gunpowder into a charcoal grill and ignited it.
And imagine my surprise to read this:
Investigators believe alcohol played a part in the incident.
Guess they left out the part about “Hold muh beer….”
And yes, these are getting more and more difficult to categorize. I need more categories, but I suspect that the need will be bottomless, given the nature of the world…
Let us set aside the traffic noise, for a moment. You could never open the drapes. Ever. The giant plate-glass windows look right into the kitchen. Anyone walking past can look right in, so you can
A look at the values of academia.
And idiotic ones:
…As she recounts the incident, he snatched the purse and took off.
But then he ran into trouble. As he ran, his loose trousers slipped down below his hips. As he reached down to hold them up, the teen was forced to throw the purse aside.
“That boy, he could run fast but he got caught up by his pants, which were real big and baggy,” says Ms. Chandler, whose purse was retrieved by a parking attendant who had heard her cries for help.
It’s a problem for perpetrators. Young men and teens wearing low-slung, baggy pants fairly regularly get tripped up in their getaways, a development that has given amused police officers and law-abiding citizens a welcome edge in the fight against crime…
…Mr. Green, 30, rode away on a bicycle, with copies of “Donnie Brasco,” “The Bourne Identity” and “Sin City.” When a patrol car knocked over the bike, he fled on foot. As he ran, his trousers slipped down past his hips, and he tripped. He hitched up his pants and ran a few more yards before falling again.
Things got worse and worse for Mr. Green. He finally kicked off his pants and shoes and “ran into the yard of 1720 Beaufield,” police officer Kenneth Jaklic said in a report of the incident. “I ran after [Mr. Green], yelling at him to stop.” Instead, Mr. Green jumped over a fence behind a garage, and Mr. Jaklic immobilized him with two Taser darts in the back…
…Karl Franklin tried to run from police in Tallahassee, Fla., in pants that were on fire. According to a police report, the 30-year-old had stashed a lighted cigarette in his baggy pants and appeared to be preparing to urinate at a traffic intersection.
Seth Stoughton, a police officer at the time, approached Mr. Franklin and noticed the man’s pocket was smoldering. Mr. Franklin, who could not be reached, started to run, but his pants dropped and tripped him up.
Sorry, link is for subscribers only, but I thought that this article was a hoot. I guess I’m supposed to be an old coot because I have such a low opinion of young men’s fashions, but baggy pants don’t just look stupid–you’d have to be stupid to put up with such dysfunctional clothing just to be fashionable.
That (as a result of reading a collection of dirty jokes in my parent’s bathroom in the sixties) is what I always ask when hearing or reading about cocktails.
And it’s worth noting that:
While it’s hard to disagree with their opinion about the French, it seems to me the height of chutzpah for people who think that critter innards are haute cuisine, and have names for their weird gustatory atrocities like “bubble and squeak” and “spotted dick,” to be saying that the US has lousy food.
…on bubble gum: