Yet Another Note About DWI

gian-reto-tarnutzer-45217.jpg

My apologies for the tenor of this.

No matter how often it comes up, I watch in fascination when someone gets a DUI, whether a celebrity, athlete or my second cousin. The whispers, the speculation, the shame. Then, with regularity, comes the backlash. “It’s not your business,” or “You shouldn’t be talking about such things.” Or, “It’s personal.” Drunks get really angry and often their friends and family join in to attempt to silence those who draw attention to their mistake. Part of the process for dealing with DWIs should be the social stigma and open discussion of it all, no matter how uncomfortable it might make people. Yes, the driver made a mistake but is one which involves everyone on the road while he or she is driving impaired.

If you find a cure for diabetes and drink champagne in celebration, it doesn’t lessen the fact that you could easily kill several people driving home from your celebration. You make the choice to drive after imbibing. It is surprisingly easy to drive impaired and many of us could easily make a poor decision and do it. This doesn’t detract from the necessity of us looking our error in the eye and dealing with it. That includes you keeping your mouth shut when someone has something to say about it.

I’ve said it a million times: if you get a DWI and no one is injured, it shouldn’t ruin your life, especially if you are young. (It’s the law that young people have to do stupid things. Older people continue to do them because we can’t help ourselves.) The humiliation and punishments should be enough to teach anyone a lesson which sticks. Part of that lesson, though, should be a huge dose of humility, one in which the person accused swallows their pride and admits publicly that they made a huge mistake, one which risked stranger’s lives on our shared public roads. If you get a second, you deserve a massively higher level of punishment, including mandatory inpatient treatment for several months and possible permanent loss of your license.

My dad killed a cousin in a drunk driving accident. He endured no consequences. Subsequently, he continued to believe that drinking and driving were things that should always be done in combination and he dedicated his adult life to endangering everyone on the roads. Many in my family had multiple DWIs, including my mom and aunts and uncles. I was in several accidents growing up in which adults were drinking. After the first one, all of them should have been put in prison, especially since people were seriously injured in the accidents.

For any of you who think you have the right to silence me in any way when I criticize those who get DWIs – and especially more than one – your opinion is probably because you haven’t seen the carnage of such stupidity scattered over a dimly-lit highway at night, while the officers on the scene both attempt to find an arm missing from the car or call friends and family of those who were killed driving home from a movie. And there are others, those who have received a DWI, those who are secretly furious that they were held to account for their stupidity through driving while impaired. I try not to be too harsh about DWIs but I do get testy when I see people openly defending those who’ve done it more than once.

PS: I have a neighbor across the street who drinks and drives like he’s trying to set a consecutive record. I await the day when his truck goes through the bedroom of one of the houses. He always announces he’s finished his drink because he hurls the red solo cup from the driver-side window.

Wrinkled Plans

I continue to be surprised at my connection to pictures, even if they were taken 50 or 100 years ago. Looking at this happy baby, knowing that these same eyes have now witnessed almost 80 years in this fascinating world, somehow still convinces me that it’s all an illusion. (PS: It’s always an honor to be trusted to preserve a family’s pictures.)

2222

.

.

 

“I ain’t saying he’s an ass, but instead of wearing underwear he wears toilet seat covers.” -X

.

.

The photo below is photoshopped, but it served its purpose: to confuse people and convince them that the entire picture on the left was real.

sdfsdfsfsdfsdfcrooked

.

.

It doesn’t matter if I get credit for an idea: people remember the bumper sticker – not the driver.

.

.

Pessimist or realist: “Money and a stronger economy weaken racism. Take away the smooth sailing, though, and the people who were in the boat first start looking sideways at your skin color. Even if they stole the boat, you’re going to find yourself in the water.”

.

.

A message in Spanish…

patrick-beznoska-197977.jpg

.

.

A is for apple, J is for Jack, cinnamon-toasty kiss my ass.

(The first line of a soon-to-be-released hit song OR a breakfast cereal for the older folks.) – X

.

.

“I loved not seeing you yesterday,” she said.

.

.

A picture from when I stayed at the White House and met tiny Mike Pence. (This picture has a couple of dozen hidden modifications.) I really was wearing that flowery bathrobe back in the day – it was my favorite.

qwqw.png

.

.

rwer

.

.

Sylvester Stallone has agreed to another”Rocky” sequel. Given his age he’s to play an aging philosophy professor fighting misconceptions about life. Working title: “The Why Of The Tiger. ”

.

.

I had just fed the birds and sat down across from my meanest, ugliest co-worker. 🙂 From nowhere we hear a crescendo of chirping. A little fat baby bird was hopping toward us. Steve reached down and the bird hopped to his hand and sat, chirping. Steve fed him bread morsels for several minutes. What an unusual and satisfying experience.

Error
This video doesn’t exist

20170719_064235

20170719_064657

.

.

 

Language Is Communication, Not Math…

moritz-schmidt-17467

For those who obsess over nuances such as semicolon appropriateness, you are of course correct in your insistence but wrong in your logic.

Language is communication, not math; authoritative attempts toward grammatical obedience leads to a cabal of ignored perfectionists, their collective pomp drawing the wrong kind of attention. Those using the language own it; if you find yourself outnumbered by those who refuse allegiance to the arcane rules of grammatical engagement, your only recourse is to use language as you see fit.

It is a gross assumption to claim that we commonly agree on the rules of language.

English is a voracious language and fluid in its spectacle. Most of the errors we perceive in our judgment of its usage tend to be the fault of the preposterous litany of illogical and capricious rules which allegedly govern it. Humans will never willingly pay homage to rules which betray the twin paths of practicality and reason.

When used with creative vigor, it is true that language is a beautiful governess attending to us. When used as a dead repository of grammatical obligations, it is a scorned woman yanking at her own hair.

Time teaches us that entropy destroys even the illusion of consistency in the form and content of our words. Grammar is the imagined road map to a place which no one gleefully visits, while spelling is the witchcraft of barking dogs in a canyon a mile distant.

Each language holds its own secrets and none owe allegiance to others or even its own previous incarnation. It all adds up to a frenzied verbal fist fight with usage always being the declared victor. We can weep at its frenzied evolution but we cannot contain it, even as our objections mount skyward.

If you doubt any of this to be true, learn another language as intensely as your first. Language embodies all the beauty and dismay of man himself.

Leave Souvenirs At Your Friend’s House…

20170716_120113.jpg

It’s what friends do…

Quite a while ago, I survived an experience at Whataburger. As a gift, I got this table service # sign card, one with the #13 on it. It has impatiently witnessed my living room ever since, waiting for the perfect home to live out its life, its orangeness daring me to find a better home.

Today, Dawn and I went to visit some friends, people who have a more traditional taste in décor. While no one was looking, I furtively placed the table card in their great room, on the mantle. It might as well have been a headless giraffe, given how incongruous it is against the backdrop of their house.

I almost shed a tear as I departed without my invaluable Whataburger table sign…

Until I laughed, thinking about the confusion this thing will occasion once my friends notice the craziness in their great room. I’m hoping they don’t notice for a week or two – or that someone else sees it before they do.

The Whataburger Bandit strikes again. You’re welcome, world.

This Post is Good Enough

It doesn’t matter if I get credit for an idea: people remember the bumper sticker – not the driver.

.

.

If I take up cattle farming I will not allow books in the fields. Doctors tell us to avoid read meat.

.

.

7

I made the above picture for a friend for amusement. He wasn’t naked in the original picture, of course. 🙂

.

.

Technology is everywhere – but not always the best option. Just the other day I saw an assassin trying to use a wireless garrote.

aziz-acharki-209259.jpg

.

.

I finally snapped a picture of the never-before-seen “Holy Cow!”

holy cow.jpg

.

.

There’s nothing better than an early Saturday stroll, accompanied by the sounds of chirping birds and Godzilla, out for vengeance.

20170624_054945.jpg

.

.

I wrote a hit song. The more it’s played, the more I get hit.

.

.

I saw an ad on Facebook for “Maternity Pictures” and was confused until I realized that the photographer only does them postpartum.

mon-petit-chou-photography-284495.jpg

.

.

“I saw that Florida passed an anti-science bill but noted that none of the lawmakers were standing on an anti-gravity floor”

.

.

Jason Rapert is now trying to outlaw certain punctuation marks, saying, “Even the period is an assault on our decency.”

.

.

The entire day needs more cowbell.

.

.

Image result for middle-aged married

As many of you know, I’ve been making cards for Hallmark’s new division of occasion cards. If you use one of these new cards and wait long enough, the recipient will never guess who sent it. Additionally, it is also fun to send two friends or family the same card, using each other’s return address. They’ll think they are thanking one another – and if they are old enough, they’ll be in perpetual doubt. You’ll thank me, later, even if you don’t remember what for.

.

.

For Sale By Groaner.

.

.

keep your foot out of this world.jpg

.

.

 

The 4th Of Course

 

20170704_061237.jpg

I tried to take a long walk this morning, even as the intermittent rain came to say hello. It was foggy and misty and felt like an abandoned world. Most of the houses were quiet, shuttered against last night’s war-like barrage of amateur fireworks. I didn’t find any bloody fingers or stick-impaled eyeballs, which surprised me, given both the age and impaired decision-making from last night’s festivities. Some of the house sidewalks and streets were littered with the corpses of hundreds of dollars worth of explosives. When you live in certain neighborhoods, it is pointless to expect anyone to be sensible about such things. A few of the houses looked like a party had been mysteriously vacated, with all the attendees dropping their beverage cans on the ground, leaving their fireworks in the grass and scattered on the sidewalk.

Last night, I watched the children a few houses down. Though this is Arkansas, I was surprised by the level of shenanigans these kids were exhibiting. It’s hard to surprise me about anything firework-related, as I was one of those kids who had access to literally any fireworks being made. When I was young, we had bottle rocket and Roman candle wars and there was no dare or challenge which went unaccepted when the 4th rolled around.

I always overcome my old-age sensibilities about fireworks. If someone blows off a hand, I will rush out and help them but it is a losing battle to try to curtail fireworks in residential neighborhoods unless one’s house is set on fire. (PS: But I’ll keep the hand as a souvenir.) All things considered, the 4th of July is good for the ER business.

The noteworthy event this morning was the older car which drove by without any lights about 5 minutes into my walk. Whoever was driving didn’t understand the fundamentals of a clutch, either. I could hear both the horrible sounds of grinding metal and the circus-like beat of Norteño music, one of the few genres which holds no appeal for me. About 100 feet past me, the car ran up onto the curb and stalled. A man exited the car and stumbled around to the back as if looking to see how far up on the curb he had driven. He stumbled back and it seemed like his head bounced off the car door as he bent and dropped back into the driver’s seat. I laughed, which probably demonstrates something about my character. The car revved and the clutch screeched as the car jumped off the curb and back into the road. Just as I was about to cringe from observing an impending collision with a car on the wrong side of the wrong, the mysterious car veered back into the middle of the street and kept moving. Instead of succumbing to my curiosity, I turned and walked the other way. I’m assuming the driver made it to wherever he thought he might be going. For my part, I didn’t feel like being a reluctant witness to a property damage report this morning.

In so many ways, the early morning of the 4th is like New Years Day: most of the world is sleeping and momentarily ignorant of whatever bad decisions were made the night before.

One of these days, I’m going to buy several 1,000 or 10,000 pack firecrackers and light them in random places across the neighborhood at about 5 a.m. I’ll choose the houses which have piles of volcanic grenades and fireball launchers left on the public sidewalk or in the street. It’ll be hard for those hypocrites to complain as I laugh at them when they groggily open their doors or peer through their windows, cursing. I did this more than once when I was younger and as mean as it might sound, it never failed to elicit a laugh, even from the ‘victim,’ although the mirth on their part always came later. (“It’s hard to laugh when you’re wearing a bathrobe.”)

Being old has its advantages. I might not stay up to watch the fireworks (which coincidentally look like every preceding firework display ever made), but I will get up at my normal hour to conduct my own fireworks display in your front yard, should you choose to fire off enough explosives to launch a war in the Middle East.

PS: When I was young, I saw the national fireworks display and a few years later got to sit at the literal edge of an ill-advised display at Lake Atalanta, inside the launching perimeter. It’s hard for anything to ‘wow’ me after those.

Another Great Wisteria Lane Weekend

 

By some miracle, our favorite cabin was available this weekend. Two of our f̶a̶i̶r̶y̶ ̶g̶o̶d̶m̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶s̶  friends surprised my wife Dawn and me a while ago with a free weekend at Wisteria. (It’s north of both Eureka Springs and Holiday Island.)

While we were hoping for a rainy deluge similar to the last visit, we somehow managed to make a great weekend out of it without much rain. For anyone who hasn’t experienced the quiet serenity of no phone, no internet, no visitors, and no people, it’s not what you would imagine; it’s better. I’ve written before about sitting on the porch swing at the edge of the forest with no one nearby. Not only can you recite Klingon poetry without being interrupted (unless the squirrels start criticizing), but you can sing Bavarian folk songs on the roof if you want to.

During this visit, we investigated such questions as, “Should squirrels eat that much butter?” and “How much meat should a lazy vegetarian actually consume?”

For the friends who gave us the gift of a weekend away, I’d like to say “thanks” again. I’d also like to let you know that I’m available for an entire month of the same at some future point -if you are willing.

Civilization sounds like a truckload of banging pots and pans after being in the middle of nothing for a couple of days. PS: The other advantage is that I didn’t have to see or hear any politician’s names during my foray into the wilderness.

We were surprised when we found out there were open reservations this weekend, so close to the 4th of July. I’m so happy we followed through and checked. We had another great weekend at Wisteria.

3

One of the nefarious squirrels is in the middle of this picture, perched vertically along the trunk. I think he’s waiting for more butter and bread offerings.

1 porch

(Cabin #4, the edge of the forest, the best of them all…)

 

5

(Trying hard to act normal in this picture…)

 

 

 

Wisteria Lane Lodging Main Website