Mission From God

A quick narrative. I always wanted a hopped up muscle car when I was younger. I couldn’t afford one. Now I can, and I have one. It is a ‘70 Mustang, and her name is Bessie. Bessie is the prototypical juvenile, male-caveman, scratch your crotch and drink cheap beer car. Chromed engine, dual exhaust, 250 horsepower, big tires, tra la la la.

I’m driving Bessie on Beach Boulevard behind an ancient guy in a beat up truck. He decides to turn in front of me without a blinker. I accelerate to swerve and avoid him, and this assh*le, over aerobicized woman jumps in front of my car with her hand up.

Meet Ethel, the neighborhood busybody/nuisance. She proceeds to yell in my window, “Hey, slow down you %$&#@ idiot.” I’m a well-bred, mellow guy by nature, so I ignore this. As I drive away, she yells, “asshole” at me again. Twice? *&%$# that. I turn around and drive up next to her.

“Do you have a problem?” I ask.

“Yeah, why are you driving like an idiot?”

“I was driving like an idiot? How, exactly?”

“You were speeding. I watched you.” “You were? I see. How did you measure my speed?” (Ever the interrogator, I am.)

“I heard you.”

“So, you measured my speed by ear?”

“I can hear.”

“How fast did you HEAR me going?”

“Look,” she says, “I don’t have to take this. Here comes a cop. I’ll wave him down.”

THE POLICE? This woman is a trip. She waves him down, and proceeds to tell him that she observed me speeding.

“What happened?” he asks. I told him the story, and told him that I accelerated to an indicated 30 mph (the speed limit is 50) to avoid a collision.

“Are those mufflers legal?” Ethel asks.

She’s pushing it. I reply, “I have a C.A.R.B. exemption for them.” I give the paperwork to the cop.

She tries to find another thing to screw me with. She says “What about those big tires? They CAN’T be legal. ” I began feeling little overheated gears in the back of my head start to turn.

“These tires were available on the 1970 Boss 429, ” I told the cop, ” Which makes them street legal as a replacement.”

Ethel gets angry. She whines, “So you’re not going to give out any tickets to this assh*le?”

The cop says, “No, I am not.”

I’ve about had it. So I say, “Sir, this woman told you that she left the street at the corner, and then she met up with my car here. According to Title 19, pedestrians have to cross the street at a right angle. This woman admitted she crossed at a 45-degree angle, which is a ticketable offence.”

“What?” The cop looks confused.

“Also, she told you that she walked in front of my car to stop me. A citizen can’t detain someone without probable cause, under Terry v. Ohio (My new favorite case). Since she couldn’t measure my speed, she had no probable cause to detain me. That is an indictable offence.”

The cop says, “But, I didn’t see any of this.”

“But,” I said, “I did, and, as an officer of the Court, I can demand her arrest. I’ll agree to dismiss the Illegal Detention charge, but I want her cited for not crossing at a right angle and Hazardous Conduct on a Public Street.”

The cop called his Lieutenant, and after the cop told the story, he authorized the summonses.

She went home with $215.00 worth of traffic tickets, and they are worth a total of four points against her license, as well as the appropriate insurance surcharge!

Of course, if she demands a trial I won’t prosecute. But the look on her face as she walked away was more than enough satisfaction for me.

Yeah, I’ve passed the bar, and I’m on a mission from God.

Mr. Marbles

(Double update day, yaaaay)

 
This is the story of two goats. One is as black as midnight, thus his very creative name, Midnight. His coat may be black, but his heart is golden and he is like a ray of sunshine on a gloomy day. He’s content to sit in the grass and nibble away at the weeds and just be an all around good guy. He likes freshly cut grass, all weeds, vines, corn and sweet feed. He hasn’t been with us for very long, but he’s been a joy to have here.

Then there’s Mr. Marbles. He’s a much larger goat who will head-butt a fence post, a shed, a car, a lawnmower, a cat or anything else that looks too perfect. He likes things to be dented, knocked over or destroyed. He will eat anything. I mean anything. He will try to eat your clothes off your body and has tried to steal cigarettes out of the hands of visitors. He’s very good at hopping fences or bashing them down. If there is a car he can get to, he will climb on the hood and leave a million little hoof dents in it. He’ll pull the windshield wipers off for you, pull the trim pieces off, eat them and then use his head to bash out all the marker lights. He can even open the doors if left alone to ponder it long enough. He likes freshly cut grass, all weeds, vines, corn, sweet feed, ornamental shrubs, all expensive plants and trees, Fritos, siding, insulation, plastic, metal, cloth, and most composite materials. He also seems to be addicted to nicotine.

These two wethers are attached to each other, so you can’t have good without evil. Midnight screams his head off when he can’t see Mr. Marbles. We need a home for them where they can be kept together and FAR away from any houses, sheds, vehicles, or cigarettes. We’d like to find a friendly, responsible goat farm for them. Although we’ve threatened to barbecue Mr. Marbles many, many, many, many times, we do prefer that neither of them be used for food. We will give them free to a good home. Please email if interested. WE WILL NOT SEPARATE THEM, so please understand that you cannot have the good without the evil. This is a package deal. We will not be held responsible for the damage Mr. Marbles is going to do to your property. Once again, these goats are FREE to a good home. All we ask is that you return our lawnmower key if Mr. Marbles happens to eventually poop it out. Thank you.

UPDATE: Mr. Marbles has now learned how to turn on the water faucet. He thinks it’s so cool that he does it constantly, all day long. Sometimes throughout the night. I know there has to be someone out there who would appreciate this unique skill. Not every goat knows how to drain a well.