So, what are the rules on cutting down a whole shitload of trees? Say you’re put in charge of such a project, your boss has handed you a work order for the extraction of “a whole shitload of trees,” right in the middle of a residential area. What do you think is a reasonable time to start-in with the extracting?
Yeah, all I can say is… 7 am is too early. I climbed atop the dormancy platform at 3:30 this morning, and the sawing, grinding, and nasal profanity kicked-off at 7:00. I could put a full eggplant in each of the bags under my eyes…
In fact, they’re still going to town out there, hours later. What the hell, man? It seems improbable, but I’m fairly certain Ernest T. Bass is involved.
On Saturday we went to the white trash jamboree commonly known as a “flea market.” Our oldest wanted to buy a pocket knife, and couldn’t find anything he liked at Wal-Market or Dick’s (heh). So we briefly submerged ourselves in the land of hyper-extended tube tops, skin grafts, and terrifying coughing jags.
The Secret bought his knife, and we lectured him about it all the way to the car. Toney: “One wrong move, and that thing will be mine — forever.” And Toney’s not known for her empty threats.
As we were exiting the parking lot, I noticed something odd in my peripheral vision. It seemed like someone had just gone balls-over-tits between a minivan and a 1974 Plymouth Scamp with one aquamarine door.
What the? I turned and saw two old people (and I mean old) in a tangled mess on the blacktop. It was a wriggling pile of wrinkled skin, with two feet bicycling straight-up.
I slammed my car into park, and went running. “Do you folks need some help?” I yelled, before reaching the oldster heap. “Help me! Oh god, heeeelp!!” a gravelly female voice answered.
She’d previously been seated in a wheelchair, it appeared, and it looked like her husband had fallen across her for some reason. They were all tangled up, and the woman’s face was mashed flat on the pavement, her mouth all distorted like Buddy Hackett’s.
The old man, who had military tattoos on his forearms, extracted himself from the mess, and I hoisted the woman and wheelchair back to their preferred positions. It didn’t take much effort, because she only seemed to weigh about sixty pounds.
They both said they were OK, and the man appeared to be more embarrassed than anything. He’d probably fought in WWII, kicked ass all his life… and now this indignity. He said he’d twisted his ankle on something, and fallen on his wife.
I asked if they were hurt, about three more times, and finally left. I could tell he just wanted me to leave them alone, so I did.
I felt bad for both of ’em, but especially him, for some reason. When he got out of bed that morning, I bet he had no idea he’d be break-dancing in a flea market parking lot later in the day. I mean, that dude was fully-inverted.
Do you have any Good Samaritan stories to tell? How’d it turn out? Use the comments link below.
Also, why are you not allowed to take pictures inside a flea market? Every time I go to one (it’s quite rare) there are signs everywhere that warn me not to take photographs. What’s that all about? Is it because half of the vendors, and two-thirds of the customers, are on the run from the law? What do you think?
My inner-sensors are telling me the retro Smoking Fish shirts will be available soon. I haven’t heard from the T-Shirt Lady yet, but have a feeling they’ll be ready by week’s end. I ordered about ten extra of both XL and 2X, so if you want one, don’t delay. This really is a limited edition, as opposed to “limited edition.”
Three excellent links received via the Surf Report email box today: this one, this one, and this one.
Great stuff! Thanks folks, as always.
And I’ll bring this mess to an end with a questionable Question: Do you ever order food off the internet?
I sometimes buy British candy through Amazon, but that’s about it. Oh, and when we first moved to California from Atlanta years ago, and were feeling homesick (homesick!), we found a website that sold Vidalia onions. They’re a Georgia delicacy, and we wanted some, dammit.
I can’t remember how much it cost, but it was a lot, for very little. The box only contained about six onions, and the California agriculture people confiscated at least two. So, we got four onions, for something like twenty bucks. It was outrageous.
And the punchline? A few days later we were in Costco, and saw a massive floor display of Vidalia onions, for something like 89 cents per pound. I almost dropped a rectal plate.
So, if you’ve got anything on mail-order food, bring us up to date on it.
And I’ll see you guys tomorrow.
Have a great day, boys and girls.
Taiwan On says
I’ve done some Good Samaritan stuff in my lifetime, but not gonna go into details. It’s what you are supposed to do. It brings the karma.
I’ve also done some Bad Samaritan stuff. Not proud. Wait, was there a Bad Samaritan? Sounds like a good name for a thrash-metal rock band: The Bad Samaritans. Google search = already taken.
The beggar dilemma is a toughie. Never know where the money will go. I take it on a case by case basis. I always feel a tad bad about skipping on by. But ya know, can’t solve world hunger. I always feel good when I give something. I don’t care if I goofed and gave some crackhead another high.
Strange. Give = feel good. Don’t give = feel a bit bad. Who said money can’t buy happiness?
Congrats to T. Farty for best fake Good Samaritan tale. Laugh out loud.
Congrats to Tammie, aka The Blond Goddess, for the best karma. I know things are kinda bleak now. But the karma will prevail. Trust me.
Son Of Sam says
For the best onion you ever ate. Cut the core out of a vadailia and put a beef bullion cube in the center. Smear said onion with butter wrap in foil and place on the grill for 40 min. You’ll think you died and went to Heaven.
Purchasing Chick says
I forgot to add if you like chocolate, you will LOVE this:
Their chocolate covered animal crackers are FANTASTIC.
I have sent these out as ‘corporate gifts’ and always get comments of how wonderful these are. If you live in central PA, some grocery stores are now selling these as well.
Some idiot crashed his car in my driveway about 10 yrs ago. He was speeding to get to work(my guess is he was late already)in Feb. on an ice covered road by my house, hit the ice, slid for 100 yds., slid into the ditch, hit the bigass culvert pipe at the end of my driveway. That flipped his car into the air and it somersaulted and landed on it’s roof sideways halfway up my driveway. This happened at my previous house, in a gated community where no one, save me and a couple of other SAHMs at the time, were home during the day.
The idiot was trapped in his car upside down with broken windows in zero degree weather and his car engine wouldn’t turn over, so no heat.
If I hadn’t been home to call the rescue squad, he could have died from exposure honking his horn to get help before anyone happened by on this desolate road.
Both he and his wife came back and thanked me later for helping him but that sonofabitch never paid to fix the culvert pipe he mangled up. Yah, they loved me when the thought of death was fresh but that love didn’t extend enough into his wallet. Moral of story….it never pays to be nice to anyone.
T. Farty McAppleass says
I don’t mind helping people as long as they pay me or thank me in a very public way. “Look old lady, I’ll help you down the steps. But when those two girls walk by you need to really pour it on about how kind and great I am. That way I have a shot at getting in their guts. Maybe even a threeway. We have a deal?”
Ooh, I like that Taiwan On admitted he/she was a “Bad Samaritan”! I was a Bad Samaritan on Tuesday. Went to the bank to deposit a check and throw some spare change in their CoinStar-esque machine, but I was seriously waylaid by surprise construction of clusterfuck levels. By the time I got to the bank I discovered that they had moved the machine. AUGH! As I was trying to ask the poofter at the front desk where it went (he was on the phone, presumably with his ass partner, and could not be bothered), some slutty chick sidled by all T&A and huge handbag. I eventually got directions and ended up behind said slutty chick. Turns out the big fat handbag was brimming with change. AW CRAP! Ten minutes later, she was finally done. After she left I stepped up to the plate and realized she had missed several coins that the machine had initially rejected, presumably because it was never built to handle twenty pound of change all at once. I considered it my tip for all my trouble. Bad Samaritan indeed. 😉
Last summer I noticed a car with a single middle aged male driver slowly following and talking to two little boys less than 6 years old. When I saw what was going on I was furious and ready do my best Rambo beat down on this guy if he didn’t happen to be a relative of these little guys.
Turns out it was the kids dad, but there was no way I could know that and I was not going to live the rest of my life knowing that I let a little boy get snatched right under my nose and murdered and dumped some place. The dad ended up thanking me for looking out for his boys.
And I don’t eat onions. I eat ramps.
Swami Bologna says
As long as we’re recommending chocolate here, these are way better than Hershey’s Kisses:
Swami Bologna says
Why do I get the message “Your comment is awaiting moderation”??? The Swami-boy is no WVSR-virgin! What the heck, man?
Swami Bologna says
I’m guessing it’s because of the links I inserted in the post that’s awaiting moderation, as my complaint didn’t suffer the same fate.
I don’t eat no candy from Hershey anymore since they moved the Peppermint Patty operation to Mexico this year and throwing 300 of our countrymen out of work. Let the Mexicans them.
Let the Mexicans eat them.
Lee Harvey Ramone says
I am inspired now. I am going to go out and teach the lepers to sing.
Shiny Rod says
Ok, some of you are jumping way off the wagon on this Good Samaritan thing. The story was about someone who was regarded as the worst kind of indiviual you could think of. A racial outcast of sorts. This person finds a man beaten and left for dead by thieves. After other men of the persons same faith and race walked past the beaten man and looked at their fallen kinsman in disgust the samaritan come to his aid. Binds the mans wounds and places him on his own donkey. He takes him to an inn and pays for his room until he is well enough to travel. He also makes sure he has plenty of food and clothing. He tells the innkeeper that if there is any other need, see to it and he will pay the balance when he returns from his trip. This is a lesson in selfless compassion. Going beyond what you may feel about a person’s race or demise. Seeing that they have fallen and you extend what you have to offer to help them back on their feet. Random acts of kindness knows no bounds. My other interpetation is a bit more biblical and I won’t get into that debate. Besides, I’m agnostic. When my SAR team set out to help some stranded Vietmanese people, we knew nothing about what would transpire. We only knew they where asking for help. When we got to their boat, it was mostly women and children. The women were literally handing us the children in an effort to get them off the sinking overcrowded boat. I did everything I could to hold back my tears. We called the ship and reported their condition while passing them food, water and medical supplies. The ship sent out one of the LCM’s to take the refugees aboard and get them to safety. We later found out that these people paid all there money to a thief who set them on the boat and then left them adrift in the middle of the ocean. After we got everyone and their posessions aboard the ship, the UDT team blew the boat up. We took the refugees to our next port which was Singapore, From there, they were flow to the US and I can only imagine that most of them are living out their American dream now. Don’t ever take for granted the gift you give when it comes from the heart. If it’s not from the heart, don’t give it.
Seriously, I know you’re an addict, but even so, shooting up on a road where the speed limit is 70 MPH and most cares are going closer to 80!?! WTF! It was incredible that she didn’t kill anyone. And I’ll bet she was pretty pissed when the ER gave her some Narcan and totally killed her high.
Jorge, more than likely what she shot herself up with was Glucose, not drugs. My husband is a Type 1 Diabetic, and we carry an insulin needle and glucose on us at all times, in case of emergency. If his blood sugar dips too low, and we can’t get to food or drink in time, the glucose needle can (and has) save his life. Additionally, she probably looked drugged out with dilated pupils because she was in the midst of a hypoglycemic episode, which would make her appear “stoned and out of it”.
Why can’t I reply?
OK, this is try 5. Now it’s really short. if you want the full response let me know and I’ll put it up on my blog.
I”m 8 weeks away from my BSN. She didn’t have signs that I would expect with hypoglycemia or hyperglycemia or DKA.
The tiny Ziploc was the biggest clue for me. I’ve given a lot of insulin and seem emergency glucose and it’s hardly ever in tiny baggies.
I respect people who manage their diabetes and understand why they need to carry syringes and inusl and glucose and I wish you and your husband all the best.
But I don;t have much sympathy for a junkie who endangers my family and the community by shooting up in the least-safe place she could possibly find.
“Yeah, all I can say is… 7 am is too early. I climbed atop the dormancy platform at 3:30 this morning, and the sawing, grinding, and nasal profanity kicked-off at 7:00. I could put a full eggplant in each of the bags under my eyes…”
This is the stuff that make me cry, sweat and full on roar with laughter. Jeff, if you remember, you think of me only as an ass.However, if your journeys to the yurt produce this hilarity, I know your book will be a success. It is THE reason i have reading for about 3 years.
ps. i am pretty sure my wife hates you for making me laugh with no regard for my health, what with me almost ‘fallin’ out…an all.’
Vidalia onions can nearly be eaten like an apple.
We have special ordered Moxie (soda) on line. It cost an outrageous amount of money – and was shipped by UPS! I was a little afraid to open the first few bottles, in fear of spraying the interior of my house with the stuff.
We recently found that a local Hippie Store carries the stuff, and is more than willing to ‘special order’ us a case or two – for about $30 less than the UPS order.