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PIG
NEWS DIGEST
| INTELLECTUAL FLATLINERS | CRIMINAL STUPIDITY
| DARWINIAN JUSTICE
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JANUARY 2012
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Thief Gets Canned Tina Cafarelli is walking Bay State brainfart who has a lock on the coveted petty crime poster wench slot. Step 1: She obtained a state-issued electronic benefit transfer (EBT) card. The card was stolen, but it's not etched in stone that she did the stealing. Step 2: She used the stolen card to purchase 18 12-packs of soda (value $64) at a Lynn (Mass.) food emporium. Step 3: She immediately took the cans to the food emporium's digital can return machine, then triedy to deposit them, without emptying them first. Her antics inflict damage on the can recycling machine. Step 4: When the police arrive, she lied about her identity, multiple times, providing them with two false Social Security numbers. Step 5: She got bagged, tagged, and dragged, for larceny under $250 by false pretense, destruction of property over $250, obstruction of justice and receiving stolen property. This takes PETTY theft to new levels since her 'take' from the can deposit is the princely sum of $10.80. Man Plays Chicken With Cranky Bovine...Loses Since this Human Gene Pool Improvement epic features bulls and raving lunatics who play chicken with them, you know the location is probably Spain. In this instance, the locaion is Navajas, a small (population 730) town in Northeast Spain. Like other towns in the region, Navajas perpetrates something called "toros embolados" (flaming bulls). Does that mean they set the bovines on fire? Not exactly.
Some asshats deliberately piss off inherently cranky bovines who are already 'thrilled' by the flaming wax balls on their horns and/or fireworks attached to their horns? What could possibly go wrong? What indeed. Our eager volunteer - he traveled 45 miles from home to get deselected - filed his HGPI application when he tripped and fell, the instant a bull was released. In a heartbeat, the bull charged him, gored him, then did his own version of 'accepted' by stomping the man's head. Adios dumbass. File this under "what an ASININE way to go" on your HGPI scorecard. One Of THOSE Days It was one of those days for the Vancouver Police Department (Cana-DUH). In fact it was a trifecta of turmoil. Step 1: Police respond to reports of a disturbance at a local bank. Step 2: Police identify a suspect and arrest him but it's not easy. In the process of bagging, tagging and dragging the 51 year old suspect, they bruise his ribs and leave abrasions on the suspect's face. Step 3: Police are forced to apologize to the man they roughed up, because he's the WRONG MAN. Step 4: Police bag, tag, and drag the RIGHT man to the local graybar hotel. Step 5: Police release the RIGHT man, without pressing charges, when they find out that the 'disturbance' NEVER HAPPENED. Curb Service Suitably 'gassed' up, after ingesting ample quantities of adult beverage, a Michigan dude - we'll call him Boozer - hit the highways and byways in Cadillac (Michigan), seeking adventure. Did he get what he wanted? It's difficult to be certain. I can report that he got what he deserved. In the wee hours of Sunday morning, Boozer amused himself by doing doughnuts in a parking lot. When he got tired of that, he started doing doughnuts on the adjacent lawn. That amused him, until he drove into a snow back, then passed out with the car motor running and the transmission in drive. Boozer was dead to the world, when 'they' arrived to exchanged pleasantries. 'They' belong to the building whose lawn and parking lot Boozer just thrashed. 'They' banged on Boozer's car window for a long time, then promptly bagged, tagged and dragged him to a waiting graybar hotel suit for drunk driving. Bagged, tagged, and dragged? You bet, because the lawn Boozer just tore up belongs to the Michigan State Police Post in Cadillac. Now that's what I call curb service. Taking A Swing At Crime I For a while, an Iowa desperado named David White had his robbery well in hand. Wearing the black stocking over his head, and armed with a box cuter, he had a Council Bluffs (Iowa) pharmacist, Bill Shipley right where he wanted him. All he had to do was grab his drugs and get the hell out of Dodge. Game, set, match? Not exactly. Step 1: He lied about having a gun and demanded a pain medication named hydromorphone. Step 2: He stood there while the pill wrangler ignored the threat and the demand, then walked up to him and punched David's lights out. Step 3: He allowed the pill wranger to force him out of the pharmacy and hold you down, while waiting for the police to arrive. Step 4: He refused to take a hint, by making repeated threats about an imaginary gun, while trying to take his gloves off. Step 5: He got hit by the pill wrangler each time he stopped cooperating. Step 6: He breathed a sigh of relief when the cops arrived to save him from the punch happy pill wrangler. Step 7: David was bagged, tagged, and dragged to the local graybar hotel where he'll be safe from that punch happy pill wrangler. Taking A Swing At Crime II Our hero is a Brit named Peter Sandy. He was out and about in Cambridge around 10:30 at night, when 'he' showed up. 'He', in this context, is a 20ish mugger who accosted Peter with a "commando-style" knife. The confrontation reached critical mass, when the desperado demanded Pete's money. Pete gave the mugger what he really needed, when he summoned the skilled he honed during his boxing career. Instead of a money infusion, Pete gave the mugger some chin music with a powerful left hook which knocked the mugger on his ass. Getting the message, the mugger beat a hasty retreat. Congratulations, mugger punk, you just got knocked on your ass by an 84 year old dude who still has what it takes, when he needs it. Jersey Jackass Makes A Fatal Mistake It started going wrong, for a 17-year-old New Jersey punk named Vincent Owens, around 5:15 a.m., when he spotted a likely victim near his ride in a Newark neighborhood. Brandishing his firearm, he tried to ply his carjacking trade, but it didn't go exactly as planned. Why? His intended victim was an off-duty Newark cop, who wasn't ready, or willing to let some punk steal his ride. The carjacking went to crap, when, instead of surrendering his car, the officer grabbed his firearm, then exchanged gunshots with the carjacker. Instead of leaving the scene of the intended crime with a car, Vincent beat a hasty retreat with a fresh gunshot wound. He jumped into a waiting car - it was also stolen - then attempted a clean getaway. That, predictably, didn't work out any better than his carjacking attempt:
The other occupants of Vincent's getaway car took off like scalded mutts, leaving a room temperature carjacker and a firearm behind. So be it. Dead carjacker makes this a Charlie Sheen class "WINNING" result. Road Warrior Targets Wrong Driver After taking in a movie in Ipswich with his lovely bride, Sharon, Darren Summers was minding his own business, when a drunk as a skunk road rage asshole catapulted the drive home from mundane, to memorable. Before his adventure finished, Darren's car had been rammed three times by an asshole names Augustinas Karvelis. It started, when the Augustinas came roaring up behind Darren, with his high beams on. A cautious driver, Darren moved to the side, to let the asshole get through. Game, set, match? Not even close. A short distance down the road, Augustinas stopped in the middle of the road, next to a church. That's when the road rage asshole kicked it up several notches. The Daily Mail shared these slam-bang details about Augustinas close encounter with professional kickboxer, Darren Summers:
Our kickboxing hero didn't have any trouble persuading Augustinas to hang around until the proper authorities arrived. How? He hauled the asshole back to his car, then pinned him to the hood, until the cops showed up. |
DECEMBER 2011 |
Southern-Fried TKO A North Carolina desperado - he sports the classically-southern moniker of Mostafa Hendi - had his game face on, when he entered the We Buy Gold store in Hendersonville (North Carolina). He established the ground rules, the moment he entered the store, by flashing his firearm at the on-duty clerk, Derek Mothershead. Seeming to comply, Derek stood up, put his hands up, then said, "Take the money." When Mostafa moved behind the counter, he shoved a bag at the clerk, but Derek Mothershead didn't 'put the money in the bag', as instructed. Instead, the clerk threw Mostafa off his game, by shoving the money at him, "Just take it." Faced with this unplanned event, Mostafa made a choice, the wrong choice. The moment the robber reached for the money, Derek Mothershead punched Mostafa's lights out. When I say punched his lights out, that's not Hambo hyperbole. Derek hit Mostafa so hard, he knocked the dude out. Game, set, match? Yes, but the best is yet to come.
Admittedly, Mostafa has already earned an 'epic fail' tag, but there's one additional fun fact to consider: "It's not even worth hitting us," said Mothershead. "We've got a fast-retrieval money system in order and we really don't carry that much money to begin with, so there's no point in hitting us." It must really suck to be you, Mostafa. It Seemed Like A Spiffy Idea This action packed yarn takes place in a South London (J.O.E.) pharmacy, Abbey Chemists. It started when a rat achieved room temperature, filling the pharmacy with a noxious stench. First, they tried to remove the dead critter's aromatic remains, without success. Since the source of the stench was impossible to reach, the staff switched to plan 'B': masking the stench, until nature ran its course and resolved the issue. Plan 'B' looked good, on paper, but it had some devilish details that the pharmacy workers overlooked. They started plan 'B', by deploying a scented candle, but it didn't get the job done. Kicking it up a notch, the pharmacy workers sprayed the area with the stench-nuking contents of an aerosol can. That's when IT happened. When the contents of the spray can met Mister Flame, the ensuing explosion knocked the pharmacy's door off, blew off some brickwork, caused a false ceiling to collapse, and inflicted slight burns to the hands and face of at least one pharmacy worker. Maybe the construction workers who will repair the damage can find, and remove, that dead rat's carcass. I think we'll call that one plan 'C'. Please don't try this at home. Imagine Running Into YOU, of All People Was it a guilty conscience that made a drunk as a skunk Tar Heel twerp, 21 year old Douglas Southard 'turn himself in' at a DWI mobile command center in the wee hours of a Sunday morning? Perhaps. Okay, he didn't exactly 'turn himself in', not in the usual sense. He did, however, of his own volition stop at the aforementioned DWI mobile command center. It happened when, gassed out of his mind, Douglas rammed his 1989 Comaro into the back of the "Booze it and Lose it" mobile unit. Some of you might not score, ramming into a mobile DWI unit as 'turned himself in', and I get that. You do what you gotta do, but this still goes down on the OFFICIAL scorecard as 'turned himself in'. It's a PIG thing, so get over it. Gotcha Baby! The Toll Taker at a Mexifornia Toll Booth - Carmichael Bible Church - was not in a forgiving mood, after a pair of copper thieves targeted his outpost of salvation two nights in a row. The first night, the thieves drained the freon from the Toll Booth's heating and cooling system. The second night they made off with some, but not all, of the copper. Game, set, match? Nope. Since the thieves left their tools behind, Pastor Jeff Livingston had a feeling they'd return on the next night, so he prepared accordingly. He deployed a baby monitor atop the church, then hooked it to a monitor and VCR. He and other members of the congregation took turns watching the image from the baby monitor. Would the thieves press their luck?
There may, or may not, be hell to pay, in the hereafter, for these thieves, who are looking at felony counts of vandalism, grand theft and criminal conspiracy for the $50,000 worth of damage they inflicted on the Toll Booth. A Mexifornia Graybar Hotel might not be a circle of hell, but it's not exactly a picnic. Say "Cheese" The good news for two Mexas desperados is very good indeed. They broke into a Splendora (Texas) home, then helped themselves to assorted electronic goodies: a laptop computer, a television, a Ninendo Wii game system, and a digital camera. They got in, grabbed some loot, then got out again, without any mishaps. Their luck held, in large part, when they pawned the digital camera at a Houston pawn shop. There is, however, one devilish detail that they didn't take care of. What detail? The pictures the thieves took of each other with the digital camera. In their zeal to turn the camera into ca$h, they didn't erase the images. The authorities have them and would really, really, really, like to thank them for the help. They want to thank them in person...the sooner the better. Nice moves, morons. |
NOVEMBER 2011 |
Pitching In, In Flori-DUH A Flori-DUH wench, Angela Cohen, 'pitched in', to make her neighborhood safer, for the children, and got arrested for her neighborly endeavor. Confused? Don't be, we've got it covered. With children playing outside on that Saturday night, the last thing Angela was willing to tolerate was a speed demon racing down the street. Up to the challenge, Angela began her neighborhood safety endeavor, by showering the car's lead footed driver with an outpouring of high volume, undoubtedly profane, pleasantries. Game, set, match? Nope. When her tirade didn't get 'er done, Angela punctuated her safety lecture, by slinging a brick into the car's windshield. Mission accomplished? It is, if Angela's mission involved getting bagged, tagged, and dragged to the slammer for 'throwing a deadly missile into an occupied vehicle'. Life is so damn pissy that way. Homebodies Glass half full PIGsters will be thrilled to learn that this PIG-ish tale includes family togetherness, and patronizing a local business. Happy days are here again? It's too soon to tell. Glass half empty PIGsters will be quick to point out that a brother and sister team from the 3700 block of Donnell Drive in Forestville (Maryland) held up the M & T Bank. Oh, did I forget to mention that the aforementioned money emporium is - TA DA - located in the 3700 block of Donnell Drive In Forestville? Shame on me. If Shakir and Kadija Taylor thought nobody in their neighborhood would recognize them, they know better, now. One of their neighbors tipped off the cops about Shakir's whereabouts. Parting shot: Robbing the bank on the same block were you live? Seriously? Holy crap! Shifty Business This Flori-DOLT caper began, after a man dropped off his work truck, in the wee hours of the morning. It hit a new gear, when his girlfriend arrived to drive him home in her 2007 Nissan. After he locked the gate of the business's facility, and the man returned to his girlfriend's car, IT happened. Two melanin-enriched meatheads appeared, taking up positions on each side of the car. One brandished a firearm, ordered the couple out of the car, then demanded money and a cell phone. Game set match? Not exactly. The carjackers' plan hit a shifty speed bump, because neither of them could cope with the 2007 Nissan's stick shift. Unable to resolve that devilish detail, the carjackers cut their losses and ran off into the night. Checkpoint Chump When an Empire State motorist, Jeffrey Smith, blundered into a sobriety checkpoint, on a Friday night, he was headed for a close encounter with The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly. The Good: Jeffrey Smith wasn't drunk so he passed that test with flying colors. The Bad: The state troopers noticed a box containing 30 cartons of untaxed cigarettes, a misdemeanor. The Ugly: While they were exchanging pleasantries with Jeffrey, the troopers discovered that he was driving with out a valid driver's license. The charge read: aggravated unlicensed operation of a motor vehicle. Life is just one damn thing after another. What Goes Up... Gravity played a critical role, this week, when a desperado's caper ran afoul of Sir Isaac Newton. Confused? Fear not, I'll get you there. It started around 9:30 p.m., while a woman was shopping in a Garden Grove (Mexifornia) Albertson's supermarket. She was going about her business, when she spotted a man's leg dangling through the ceiling. Alarmed, she alerted the store manager. Was she delusional? Nope. Moment's later, the desperado - he was trying to steal copper wiring from the store - came crashing through the ceiling. He landed near a cash register, where the proper authorities did their own version of a checkout, with the familiar mantra "you have the right to remain silent". Bagged, tagged, and dragged to a local graybar? You better believe it Sparky. Letting It ALL Hang Out A Mexican desperado stepped in it, when a simple purse snatching turned into a heaping helping of public humiliation. He seemed to have it under control, when he stole a vintage woman's purse. 'Seemed' is the operative word, in this case. His purse snatching endeavor turned to crap, when his victim's cries for help, prompted 10 bystanders to run the desperado down. Things went from bad to worse, when the bystanders held the desperado down, stripped off all his clothes, then left him stark naked beside busy road in the northwestern Mexican town of Providencia. As fun as this epic is, it gets better, because the onlookers - 100s of them - pelted him with coins and plastic bottles from their vantage point on a raised walkway. While the crowd, hooted, jeered, and laughed, the desperado tried, without success, to flag down a passing car. Eventually, he did get a ride, from he proper authorities, who bagged, tagged, and dragged him to a waiting graybar hotel suite. A Memorable Egyptian Brainfart One of the most memorable 11/11/11 brainfarts happened in Egypt, proving, to my satisfaction, that the rational Egyptian adults are MIA, leaving the lunatics in charge. That's certainly the case at Egypt's Supreme Council of Antiquities (SCA), which closed the Great Pyramid on Friday. Closed the Great Pyramid? Yup, and their reason is going to rock your world. The SCA moonbats were trying to thwart a plot by the JOOOOOOOOOOOS to - I am not making this up - seize the Giza Plateau pyramids. The Jerusalem Post served up these Moonbat-laced goodies:
As fun as that sounds - it's off the scale for 'fun' - there's one final tidbit worth mentioning. There was, in fact, a group which received permission to conduct a ritual at the pyramids, but it isn't JOOOOOOOOOOOOS trying to reclaim the pyramids. It's a group of Polish numerologists who 'needed' to perform the ritual 'to protect the world from "cosmic forces" which are locked and loaded to destroy Earth next year. When the last rational adult leaves Egypt, please turn out the lights. Do It Yourself Heart Surgery Our hero is a Cook County (Illinois) denizen named Channing Askew. Sometime on Halloween night, Channing told a minion in the group home where he resided, that he was having chest pains and needed an ambulance. While the group home worker summoned an ambulance, Channing returned to his room, where he performed some surgery on his chest, in an effort to remove his pacemaker. He was still alive when the paramedics arrived, but he lost consciousness in the ambulance. When the paramedics tried to revive Channing, they discovered the knife wounds on the left side of his chest. The bad news is that Channing Askew died from his adventure in heart surgery. The good news is that his death will not disqualify him from participating in future Cook County elections. A Tattletale Cell Phone It started, when dude decided to take a nap in the Hoboken Terminal, around 7 a.m. While he was sawing logs, some asshat stole his cell phone and charger. He caught a break, when he spotted the thief in a nearby McDonalds, then passed that tidbits to the cops who reported to the scene. When the cops questioned the alleged thief, Antonio Santiago, about the missing cell phone, he denied stealing it. Game, set, match? No exactly. The fun hit high gear, when the cops called the missing cell phone, making the stolen phone start to ring in his right coat pocket. D'oh. When the cops got ready to bag, tag, and drag Antonio to the local Graybar Hotel, they patted him down, discovering that Antonio had three bags of weed in his pocket. Theft AND a drug charge? Nice moves, genius. |
OCTOBER 2011 |
Squeeze Play With nothing better to do on a Friday night, a 21-year-old Mexifornia moron blundered into the PIG News bull's-eye, when he played the fool to win a $100 bet. The key ingredients are laundry detergent, a baby swing in Blue Rock Springs Park, our hero, and some fair-weather 'friends'. Step 1: Our hero, Swifty, agrees to cram himself into the baby swing for $100. Step 2: Swifty lubes himself with laundry detergent. Step 3: Around 9 p.m. on a Friday night, Swifty shoehorns himself into the baby swing. Step 4: When Swifty gets stuck, his friends get the hell out of Dodge, leaving Swifty behind, still stuck in the baby swing. Step 5: Nine hours later, around 6 a.m. on Saturday morning, a groundskeeper hears Swifty screaming for help. Step 6: Firefighters cut the chains off the swing, then take Swifty to a local hospital, where the baby seat was removed using a cast cutter. Good luck collecting that $100, moron. Stupid Human Tricks Watch This, Click...Bang! Our ready, willing and eager human gene pool improvement volunteer is a 22 year old Flori-DOLT named Chaz Ursomanno. The essential elements in this epic are: a handgun, a girlfriend, and one very dumb son-of-a-bitch. The fun reached critical mass, in the wee hours of a Thursday morning, when our hero, Chaz tried to impress his 24 year old girlfriend, Naomi Ensell, by brandishing his handgun. When she, quite reasonably, told this moron to put the gun away, Chaz wasn't in a listening mood. Instead of putting the gun away, he filed his human gene pool improvement volunteer application, with a demonstration that the gun was 'safe'. The demonstration? He put the gun barrel to his head and pulled the trigger. It didn't fire, so he kicked it up a notch, by doing it all over again. This time, the gun fulfilled its primary function, by firing a bullet into Chaz's head. DOA? Not yet, but he did inflict 'life-threatening' injuries on himself. According to an AP news story, Chaz "was unconscious when the Pinellas County Sheriff's deputies arrived. Unconscious is on of the outcomes of shooting oneself in the head. HOWEVER...I am compelled to point out that given Chaz's synaptic short-comings, 'unconscious' also describes his mental activity BEFORE he shot himself in the head. Mark this one "it's just a matter of time" on your HGPI scorecard. Failure To Communicate When he sauntered into a WSFS Bank in a New Castle (Delaware) shopping center, Thomas Love had his heist planned down to the last detail. It didn't go quite as smoothly as he hoped. First, he grabbed a deposit slip, then dashed off a robbery note. Next, he approached a teller and handed over his robbery note. Game, set, match? Nope. Deeming Tommy's scribbles unintelligible, the teller handed the note back to him, telling him she couldn't read it. He would need to rewrite it, before she could conclude his transaction. Unprepared for that eventuality, Tommy beat a hasty retreat, but he didn't have much luck with his getaway, either. The bad news, from Tommy's perspective, is 'bagged, tagged, and dragged' to a nearby Graybar Hotel suite. The good news is that, while he's in the slammer on those attempted robbery charges, he'll have plenty of time to practice his handwriting. It's glass half full time, Tommy boy. That's His Disguise? When Swifty walked into the Cumming (Georgia) money emporium, he had several items with him: gloves, a tool box and a furnace filter. The gloves? I get that. The toolbox? I'm guessing to hold the money. The furnace filter? He used it as a disguise, by holding it in front of his face. Did it work? Not really. As you can see from the accompanying image, the Best Bank's security camera didn't have any difficulty penetrating his clever disguise. Somehow, despite his furnace filter foolishness, Swifty managed to walk out with some of the bank's money. Sometimes even a moron like Swifty gets lucky. Filler 'Er Up, Officer Drunk as a skunk, a Minnesota meathead - Jonathan Gould - pulled into the gas pumps, then waited for the alcohol-induced fog to clear, before pumping some gas in his ride. There were, however a few flaws in his plan: * He was not, as he believed, in the gas station in Anoka. He only missed that destination by 15 miles. * He was, in fact at the private gas pumps which are located behind the Arden Hills patrol station which are used, exclusively, by law enforcement officers, like Ramsey County Sheriff's Deputy Rob Wilkinson. *Deputy Wilkinson was fueling his patrol car, during Jonathan's pit stop. Bagged, tagged, and dragged? You bet.
In addition to his 'arresting' pit stop, Jonathan's drunken antics also left a memento - one of his license tags - at the nearby National Guard facility where he plowed his car into the gate. Since this is Jonathan's 4th DWI, I think it's time to black flag him, permanently. Strange But True A Working Lunch After spending his morning in a Tennessee courtroom, where he was on trial for robbing, at knifepoint, a man at a truck stop, in 2009, Mark needed something to take his mind off his troubles. He got 'er done, during the lunch break, when he strolled into a nearby jewelry store and made off with $45,000 worth of the store's merchandise. He was bagged, tagged, and dragged, the morning after he was deemed guilty of the truck stop robbery. Mark has the inside track for our recidivist of the year award. An Electrifying Reality Check The Darwinian adventure started, when the lad scaled a "very high wall" to gain access to a power substation in Riverside (Flori-DUH). Once inside our eager HGPI volunteer tangled with a high voltage transformer. Somehow - I'm smelling another 'fools and drunks' exemption - our eager young volunteer survived an electrifying encounter with 69,000 volts. He took a serious licking - enough to land this moron in a local burn center - but he's alive and kicking. Mark this one, 'we'll get him next time' on your HGPI scorecard. Delusional In Utah While responding to the call, Mapleton (Utah) police caught a break, when they spotted Adam's car. During the ensuing chase, the cops saw the scumbag trying to punch the woman driving Adam's car. When the cops finally stopped Adam's car, the woman bolted from the car, accompanied by a child. For some reason, the cops decided to haul Adam's sorry ass to the local hospital instead of jail.. During the medical examination, Adam hit the cops with two thrilling claims: 'I'm invisible'; 'I'm unstoppable'. If they weren't examining Adam's head, they should have been. Apparently, Adam left his 'invisibility' his other pants, because a very visible Adam was last seen languishing in a local Graybar Hotel Suite. It appears that his unstoppable isn't working either. Devilish Detail Unhappily for our award winning desperados, the owner, who had worked late to molest his security system, was still in his eatery at 4:30 a.m., when the luckless losers made their move. Alerted by the noise the desperados made on the roof, the owner called the cops, who were on hand to bag, tag, and drag the uninvited guests, when they finally, broke through the roof. The luckless losers tried to get out of Dodge - one via the back door, the other via the front door - making their capture a piece of cake for the Salem cops. When last seen, Lonny De Hut and Kurtis Kent were facing an impressive list of charges: first-degree burglary, second-degree theft, first-degree attempted aggravated theft, first-degree criminal mischief and identity theft. |
SEPTEMBER 2011 |
Booty Call Of The Week In Malaysia, a 20 year old dude - we'll call him Wanker - became alarmed over his wife's bedroom antics. She was obviously having a good time, a fact that would normally be thrilling for Wanker. The problem with that theory is that wifey was having her good time, without Wanker's participation. Did he catch her with her lover? Sort of...but not really.
Armed with 'proof', Wanker filed a report with the police. After a good laugh (you know they lost it), they sent Wanker on his way, since they weren't properly equipped to arrest an invisible man. Wanker, dude, have you considered putting the 'Ghost Busters' on the job? Adventures in Human Gene Pool Improvement Wounded In West Virginia When he got there, Skeeter made one final bid to win her back. Putting a gun to his head, he vowed to kill himself, unless she took him back. Did he get the girl, or a bullet to the head? He didn't get the girl, or a new hole in his head, but he did get a bullet. Eventually, Skeeter cut the crap, and stopped pointing the gun to his head. Crisis averted? Yes, and no. When Skeeter put the gun down, he managed, somehow, to shoot himself in the left hand and left foot. Left hand AND left foot? How the hell did Skeeter manage THAT? Tis A Grizzly Tale Indeed The drama unfolded during a hunting trip along the Montana-Idaho border. The critter they were after is a black bear, which is typically much less aggressive than its infamous cousin, the grizzly. Eventually, they spotted a bear, prompting Ty to start blazing away at it. Did he hit it? Yup. Willing to give the critter ample time to achieve room temperature, Ty and Steve cooled it, for a quarter of an hour. Satisfied that it was dead, Ty and Steve tracked the bear into some thick cover. That's when some essential tidbits reared up and made things relentlessly thrilling. Tidbit 1: The bear still had plenty of life in it. Tidbit 2: Instead of being a black bear, the critter was the notoriously aggressive grizzly. Tidbit 3: It's a VERY bad idea to trail a wounded predator - especially a 400 pound bear. When they blundered into it, the understandably pissed bear made its move:
The Montana authorities will probably won't nail Ty for shooting his hunting partner, but that doesn't mean his troubles are over. Since grizzlies are an endangered species in the lower 48, it's a federal crime to kill one. I think Ty better get a shyster, because he'll need it when Uncle Sam comes after him. Bzzzt! This epic took place in Los Angeles, when a 52-year-old dude put an electrifying spin on take your daughter to work day. Armed with the tools of his trade, pop rounded up his 17-year-old daughter then headed out for his work site, an unattended power transformer in Inglewood (Mexifornia). That's right, PIGsters dad and his baby girl gave the fates a two for one human gene pool improvement volunteer offer, when they tangled with some high voltage, while trying to steal some copper wire:
Did dad teach baby girl a valuable life lesson? You bet. It erased any residual doubt in her mind about dear old dad: he's an idiot. It also inflicted a painful reminder that willfully tangling with high voltage power lines is not an idea whose time has come. Road Warrior Plays Tag With Cop Car Our hero, Clyde Easton, is a 47 year old denizen of Indiana who belongs in the losers hall of shame. Bad: Driving on a suspended license, while drunk as a skunk. Worse: Slamming your Chevy Trailblazer into a car stopped at a traffic signal. When our hero stopped to check the damage, the driver of the car he hit, told him to hang around. Instead, our hero flashed the peace sign, then got the hell away from there. Holy crap: The car he hit and severely damaged was the squad car belonging to Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Department officer Jean Deddish. Trust me on this, Sparky, that peace sign isn't going to get it done. Bagged, tagged, and dragged? You better believe it, Jailbird. Vodka With a Wallop Lawrence Toms is a dude who likes to tinker. Lately, his tinkering involved distilling his own Vodka in one of his bedrooms, using a distilling rig he made with his own eager hands. How could anything possibly go wrong, when he got the vodka recipe and the 'how to' instructions off the Internet? How indeed? The critical elements in Lawrence's great vodka adventure are: an enclosed space, the heat source for his rig, plus highly combustible alcohol. When you mix them together in the right proportions, you get an explosion which blew the roof off our hero's home, obliterated the windows, and sent an extra crispy Lawrence Toms to the burn unit of a local hospital.
If you want vodka that packs a wallop, Lawrence Toms has a concoction that will blow the roof off your house. Occupational Hazard Proves Fatal After a fun-filled Labor Day weekend, three Ohio State University students had a nasty surprise awaiting them, when they arrived home. Some sticky fingered rat bastard broke into their off campus apartment, while they were gone for the weekend. As fun as that is, it gets better. Normally, when you arrive home and realized you've been burglarized, you mutter darkly about what you'd do if you got your hands on the rat bastard. That didn't happen, in this instance, because those frisky fates had resolved that pesky issue, by the time the three OSU inmates arrived home. 'Resolved'? You better believe it Sparky. The burglar's mortal remains were in the living room, where he'd bled to death. He incurred the fatal wound, after he broke a window to gain access to the apartment, severing an artery in his arm on the broken glass. He tried to stop the blood loss with paper towels from the kitchen, but it didn't get 'er done. Mark this one 'sliced out of the human gene pool', on your HGPI scorecard. What A [Stupid] Way To Go Our star performer, Finn Martin is...make that WAS...according to the scribes at The Local "a world-class artist" and "one of the top-ten saxophone players in the world". He was, they freely admit, largely unknown in Sweden. I have a hot flash for them...he's largely unknown in A-Merica, too. I'm wondering if Finn's lack of notoriety is the reason he went to such ridiculous, uh, HEIGHTS to attract attention. Heights, in this context, is not Hambo hyperbole, because Finn's signature 'stunt' has him suspended by a rope & harness rig which allows him to slide down the face of a tall building, while playing a catchy ditty on his saxophone. This week, he pressed his luck once too often, when he perpetrated his stunt at a street festival in Leipzig, Germany. During his performance, he gave the audience what they REALLY came to see, a deadly plunge to the ground below, when his harness broke. If, as The Local insists, Finn was a noteworthy musical performer, I'm compelled to wonder what song he played on that fateful day? I don't know what the song WAS, but I know what it SHOULD HAVE BEEN: "Catch A Falling Star". Justifying the DUH in Flori-DUH The fun hit its stride, early on a Monday morning, when Colby Cardoso got tangled up in the traffic jam caused by an accident. Although he is old enough to know better, at age 20, Colby couldn't resist the 'go for it, dude' Siren song coming from the truck belonging to a witness to the accident. A VERY late bloomer, when it comes to common sense, Colby ignored the Hillsborough County Sheriff, who was already on the scene, when he jumped into the unguarded pickup truck. When the truck didn't cooperate, Colby had an unscheduled burst of synaptic activity, which prompted him to hot foot it away from the long arm of the law. Bad: trying to steal the pickup when a cop was already on the scene. Worse: failing miserably, then trying to flee on foot. Going for the gold: Assaulting Deputy Carl Luis, when the officer caught up to Colby and tried to detain him. Add it all up and our hero Emerilized his unsuccessful car stealing antics, by 'resisting arrest with violence'. Nice moves, genius. Rules of Engagement If you're a desperado by trade, you probably already know the Crime 101 mantra that admonishes 'don't return to the scene of the crime'. That one still holds true, as do the many other venerable rules of desperado engagement. There is, however, room for a new rule of desperado engagement: never wear your court-monitored ankle bracelet to an armed robbery. Steven Tubbs learned this one the hard way:
Stevie, who was on parole after loitering in a Graybar Hotel for 2 years for 'attempted robbery, use of a weapon to commit a felony and terroristic threats' won't need that tracking bracelet, now. He's back where he belongs, in a Graybar Hotel suite on a new laundry list of charges. Smooth moves, genius. It Seemed Like A Good Idea Old enough to know better, at age 59, a Harrisburg (Pennsylvania), dude decided to go camping in a remote section of East Hanover Township, while Hurricane Irene was forcefully spreading Mother Nature's special brand of joy on the East Coast. What could possibly go wrong? What could go wrong in a wind-driven downpour? If you answered 'a tree could fall on our hero's tent and crush him to death', you probably cheated, but you're absolutely right. I have no idea what our hero did to piss off Mother Nature, but it had to be something major, because she spared the other 19 individuals camping out with our hero. In fact, she even spared the woman sharing the tent with our hero. It's not nice to fool around with Mother Nature? You better believe it, Sparky. Perilous Passion While traveling the highways and byways in South China, a Chinese couple were overwhelmed by a fit of passion. Unwilling to visit China's version of the No Tell Motel, the couple made other arrangements. Eventually, they found what the needed on the rooftop level of a parking structure. While things heated up inside the car, they decided to let the engine run so they could use the car's air conditioning. In the heat of the moment, the dude - Qiao Hou - jammed the car into reverse. Before he could stop it, the rear of his ride smashed though a retaining wall, allowing the back of the car to dangle precariously 60 feet above the ground. The only thing keeping the car from falling was it's exhaust, which got snagged by the broken retaining wall. By now, our hero's girl friend, Lili Tang, was screaming - in terror, not passion - alerting passers-by to their plight. Rushing to the rescue, some good Samaritans pulled the couple from the car. Embarrassed, but glad to be alive, the horny couple will hopefully, 'get a room', the next time they're overcome by passion. Mark this one "Darwin was laughing too hard to deselect them" on your human gene pool improvement scorecard. |
AUGUST 2011 |
Escape Strategy Is Up a Tree Bryant Paschal's caper started off like gang-busters, when he sauntered into TCF Bank's Oak Lawn branch with robbery on his agenda. When he brandished a firearm, then demanded "Give me all your money", the teller handed over $5,100. Too clever for his own good, Bryant threw 'flee the scene of the crime' under the proverbial getaway vehicle. Instead, he scaled a tree then hunkered down on the roof of the bank. Unhappily, his innovative escape strategy hit a predictable snag, thanks to a witness, who reported Bryant's rooftop antics to the proper authorities, who responded to the bank robbery report. After an exchange of pleasantries, Bryant traded in his rooftop refuge for a Graybar Hotel suite, where he'sfacing up to 20 years in prison, for felony bank robbery. Escape Strategy Steers Into Trouble Unable to resist the Siren song of the VW Beetle that resided, unguarded, at Al and Ed's Auto Sound in Escondido (Mexifornia), Alexander Josic made his move in the wee hours, on a Saturday morning. Wasting no time, our hero jumped in the car, then made a mad dash for freedom. Game, set, match? Not exactly. There were a few devilish details that impeded Alexander's escape. For example, since the sound system work wasn't completed, the Beetle's windshield was missing. No biggie, you say? I agree, but there's more. In addition to the missing windshield, the Beetle's seats weren't lashed down, plus, the steering wheel wasn't properly attached, a fun fact that our hero discovered, the hard way, when the steering wheel came loose during Alexanders 'dash' to freedom. He didn't get very far, making his prompt capture a slam dunk for the cops who responded to the auto sound shop's burglar alarm. Bagged, tagged, and dragged? You better believe it, steering is NOT optional, Sparky. The Case of the Henpecked Desperado For a Pennsylvania Desperado named Otto McNab, Jr., the real trouble ensued during the getaway, and, believe it or not, the cops weren't the persistent pain in Otto's butt. Confused, don't be. Step 1: At 12:15 p.m., Otto strolled into the Susquehanna Bank in Sugarloaf Township. Step 2: He confronted a teller and told her, "I have a bomb. Give me the money or I'm going to set it off." Step 3: After collecting $2,262 from the teller, he left the bank, unimpeded. Step 4: He returned to his getaway ride, where his girlfriend, who wasn't in on the bank heist, awaited him. Step 5: After his girlfriend administered a high volume dressing down, Otto returned the money to the bank, then left the scene of the crime. Step 6: Otto was bagged, tagged, and dragged to a graybar hotel suite where, he will be safe from his girlfriend's relentless, high volume pleasantries. Undoubtedly, Otto's highly combustible girlfriend will have a lot to say about the laundry list of charges that Otto is facing: robbery, theft by unlawful taking, receiving stolen property and terroristic threats. Parting shot: Otto, dude, I know that prison is no picnic, BUT, as dangerous as it is, you're safer in that cell block than you would be out in society, where SHE can get at you. Better Than Breadcrumbs If an Oklahoma desperado, Lonnie Nunley, isn't the poster punk for dumb criminals, he should be. Why? Why indeed. When some oilfield equipment came up missing, Lonnie was the prime suspect. That status was justified, when Stephens County Sheriff Wayne McKinney and the owner of the stolen equipment, visited Lonnie's humble abode and spotted the missing gear in the back of our hero's truck. When they questioned Lonnie, he denied everything, for all the good it did him. His lies might have worked, if it wasn't for a certain devilish detail. You see, when he stole the oilfield equipment, Lonnie was wearing a GPS tracking monitor, which put him at the scene of the robbery. And why, you ask, is Lonnie wearing a GPS tracking monitor? As part of his pre-trial release agreement, Lonnie must wear a tracking monitor that's equipped with GPS. And what, you ask, is the crime that saddled him with that tattletale tracking monitor? Lonnie got busted in July, for - TA DA - stealing approximately $300,000 worth of equipment from southwest Oklahoma oilfields. That's right, PIGsters, while he's out on bond for stealing oilfield equipment, he ignores the GPS equipped tracking monitor, when he goes out to steal more oilfield equipment. A Real Bang-Up Birthday It's one birthday that a 13-year-old Maryland wenchlet will never forget. In fact, you might say that this particular birthday left its mark on her. I'm tempted to kick it up to 'scarred' for life, but that might be overreaching. The unvarnished fact is that someone in birthday girl's family put more than candles on the wenchlet's birthday cake. Someone supplemented the requisite candles with 'fireworks'. As a result, the cake 'blew' itself out, when the firework(s) fulfilled its prime function, injuring birthday girl and her parents in the process. Nobody achieved room temperature, but the injuries incurred were sufficiently serious to land family members in a local hospital. Parting shot: Attention birthday wenchlet: be afraid, be very afraid. I don't care if its due to malice or stampeding stupidity, this birthday blast is just the beginning. It's doomed to escalate, and I strongly suggest that you approach each birthday with, at minimum, caution, but outright alarm is also in play. 'The Judge' Says BANG A Tennessee dude, 23-year-old Justin Perry shot into our PIGish bull's-eye, on a Wednesday afternoon, while motoring on westbound I-24. The fun started, after he had to hit the breaks, due to an unanticipated slowdown of the traffic directly in front of him. As usual, in such cases, the sudden reduction of speed, made things inside Justin's car slide. Our adventure stars one of these items, a handgun named 'The Judge' which slide out from under the driver's seat. Instinctively, Justin reached for it, with PIG-worthy results:
The good news is that Justin was picked up by LifeFlight and dropped off at Vanderbuilt University, where he got the medical care he needed. The bad news for Justin is the fun fact that the cops, who responded to his call for help, found his weed and assorted 'drug paraphernalia' in his car. They also found multiple forms of I.D., making it a royal bitch to pinpoint Justin's home and/or his destination. Bagged, tagged, and dragged? With 'charges pending' and his condition listed as 'stable', Justin is on the fast track to a Graybar Hotel suite. Wrong Turn In Omaha Derrick Ferrell's bank caper started off like gang-busters, when he sauntered into an Omaha (Nebraska) money emporium, a Bank of the West branch, with robbery on his agenda. He walked in, made his demand, got a cash infusion, then got out again, without any drama. After leaving the scene of the crime, he made a fateful decision, when he took a wrong turn and headed straight for Omaha P.D. headquarters, a few blocks away. In due course, Derrick made a bad situation worse, when, after a brief foot chase, he attacked an Omaha P.D. detective, who tried to stop him. In short order, Derrick was bagged, tagged, and dragged to a waiting Graybar Hotel Suite, where he will have ample time to examine his error-riddled escape strategy. Leaping Loser Our hero - henceforth 'Freefall' - is a Big Apple desperado who had one of THOSE days on the 'job'. His daring daylight burglary hit a speed bump, when he was spotted trying to force his way through a screen door on a NYC rooftop patio. Unwilling to tolerate such things, a resident of the apartment building closed the window, then called the cops. Frustrated, Freefall had an unscheduled moment of clarity which prompted him to cut is losses and get the hell out of there. Unhappily, his escape route was blocked by the timely arrival of the NYPD. Unwilling to exchange the requisite pleasantries, Freefall scrambled back onto the roof, seeking some other escape strategy. It seemed hopeless, then, eureka! Freefall looked at the next building, which was a mere 3 feet away. After running the requisite numbers, Freefall made his fatal decision, then tried to jump to the next building. The bad news is that he didn't have the right stuff to make the jump across the 3 foot divide that separated the two buildings. The good news is that aided by gravity, Freefall didn't have any problem whatsoever in covering the 5 stories, straight down. The five story drop gave the fickle fates ample time to stamp his Human Gene Pool Improvement Volunteer application "ACCEPTED". Like Hannibal Smith of A-Team fame, I, too, love it when a plan comes together. Explosive Idiocy Our story includes several essential, fun-inducing, elements. First, and foremost, we have a 36-year-old woman who puts the 'DUH' in Flori-DUH. In addition, we have an unknown quantity of fireworks left over from the requisite July 4th festivities. There is, as is so often the case, a generous infusion of adult beverages. Last, and far from least, we have our heroine's sleeping boyfriend. The fun started, when our heroine's adult beverage saturated synapses misfired. As a result, our heroine tracked down some of the leftover fireworks, then tried to use them to wake up her man. It was supposed to happen like this: light firework, throw it out the front door, make a big noise that wakes up boyfriend. It didn't go as anticipated, because, between light up the firework and throw it out the front door, the fireworks administered a painful reality check:
Nice moves, Einstein. All Dressed Up...No Place To Go The Kansas desperado seemed to have all those devilish details under control, when he painted an armed robbery bull's-eye on a Wichita (Kansas) Starbucks. What could possibly go wrong? Donning his green ski mask, the desperado sauntered up to the coffee emporium, then brandished his gun, which he pointed at the Starbucks employees inside the outpost of coffee wrangling capitalism. Having their undivided attention, he entered the Starbucks...I said he ENTERED THE STARBUCKS. There was just one devilish detail that our desperado overlooked. Starbucks closed at 10:00 p.m., but he didn't get there until 10:05 p.m., five minutes AFTER the employees locked the door. Unable to get inside, the desperado beat a hasty retreat, but his escape didn't work out as planned, either:
Timing is everything? You better believe it, Sparky. Excuses, Excuses If you think "the devil made me do it" is humorous hyperbole, prepare to be thrilled, because an grope-a-dope from Arizona has been there, done that. His name is Bobby Guyton and this 76-year-old horndog is a real piece of work. According to Bobby's maid, she was cleaning our hero's trailer home, when he made his move. His move started with a hug, which evolved into grope-a-dope, when - according to the maid - Bobby grabbed her hand and made her touch his nads. The maid said it wasn't an isolated incident, since he'd put her hand on his wang on 4 separate occasions. Eventually, singularly unamused, the maid reported his antics to the cops. Excuse 1: Bobby tells he maid that - TA DA - Satan was behind his actions. Excuse 2: While exchanging pleasantries with the cops, Bobby spins a new yarn. After denying that he grabbed her, Bobby says the maid was pissed, because he was going to fire her. In this version, she tried to hit him in the nads, but he grabbed her hand while it was on his crotch. He eventually admitted that he held her hand on his wang "longer than necessary". Bagged, tagged, and dragged? Bagged? Yup. Tagged? Yup. Dragged? Not exactly, but he is staring at a felony count of sexual abuse. Smooth moves, Romeo. Excuses, Excuses II Aiming for some high hanging fruit, a carjacker, Micah Calamosca, painted a mental bull's-eye on a the patrol car driven by a plainclothes Pittsburgh cop, Detective Robert DiGiacomo. It went about as badly as you think, but it did have one redeeming, PIG-worthy quality. The incident took place at 7:15 p.m., near the location where a new Batman flick was filming scenes for 'The Dark Knight Rises'. It started, when 21-year-old Micah opened the patrol car's door, sat down, then ordered Detective DiGiacomo out of the car. Game, set, match? Nope. Detective DiGiacoma made a counter offer, by drawing his service revolver, then ordering Micah out of his patrol car. That's the magic moment when Micah deployed his excuse, Claiming that he was part of the movie crew, Micah insisted that taking the car was in the script. It was a nice try, but Detective DiGiacomo had a script of his own which begins, "You have the right to remain silent..." Bagged, tagged, and dragged? You better believe it, Batman made me do it, Sparky. Human Gene Pool Improvement - Begging For It, Division Our HGPI epic stars a 50ish dude whom I'll call Holy Moley. First there was a generous infusion of adult beverages, followed by a whole lot of bull. That's when things got memorably horny. After getting gassed to the gills, Holy Moley played chicken with a particularly cranky bovine which was a featured player in a festival in Rafelbunyol (in Valencia province - Spain). Kicking it up a notch, Holy Moley used an umbrella to majorly piss off the bovine. That's the magic moment when Holy Moley filed his human gene pool improvement volunteer application. While the fates stamped Holy Moley's application 'accepted', the bovine trapped our volunteer in a narrow street, at which point he gave his tormentor the business end of his horns, multiple times. Holy Moley achieved room temperature in a local hospital. File this under 'mess with a bull, you get the horns' in your HGPI archives. Cambodian Cremation Gets Fuelish Damn It = A Cambodian family is trying to cremate grandma's mortal remains, but the wood is wet, preventing the crematorium's funeral fire from burning fast enough and hot enough. WOW = Some Einstein has a Tim the Toolman class brain fart, prompting him, her, himher, or it to power up the funeral fire by dousing granny's casket with gasoline. BOOM = The ensuing blast killed an 8 year old wenchlet, and injured 12 other mourners, one of whom is in critical condition. Last word = Don't try this at home. |
JULY 2011 |
Getting Ready for DeathCare? Our hero, Swifty, is a 63-year-old Southern Mexifornia dude who decided to get a headstart on medicine under DeathCare. Afflicted with a painful hernia, he took matters into his own hands, literally, when he tried to cut the protruding hernia out with a butter knife: Unhappily, Swifty's bride didn't share her hubby's 'I'll do it myself' brand of self-healing. In fact, hubby's antics prompted her to call 911 to share the thrilling 'he's cutting out his hernia with a butter knife' news with the proper authorities.
For some reason, the proper authorities deemed Swifty's adventure in medicine unusual, so they packed him off to local hospital, for a psychiatric evaluation. Is he nuts? Perhaps, but he's also the harbinger of things to come under the Demoncrats' DeathCare. Premature Explosivacation An Afghani Jihadikaze, Mohammed Nussayef Jasim al Hamdani - henceforth 'Splatter' - had one of THOSE days, this week, when his terrorist asshat career came to an untimely end. After cobbling together the primary tool of his murderous trade - a bomb - Splatter decided to install it in his delivery system: a vehicle which he deemed, expendable. His installation hit a memorably noisy snag, when the bomb detonated prematurely, forcibly evicting Splatter from the realm of the living, sending him to the bowls of hell where he belongs. In addition to blowing himself to bits, Splatter also managed to murder his two children - ages 10 and 11 - wound 20 of his neighbors, and level part of his house. The bad news is that Splatter was, at one time, in an Afghani Graybar Hotel, but he was kicked loose due to insufficient evidence. The good news is that, the Afghani authorities don't need any evidence, now that Splatter blasted himself out of their misery. She Swings A Mean Bat Our heroine is a 70-year-old New Hampshire denizen whom we'll call 'Ruth', in honor of another memorable bat swinger, Babe Ruth. As you'll soon learn, 'Ruth' swings a mean bat, too. Life threw Ruth a curve ball, on a Sunday morning, when a free ranging asshat, broke into her Manchester home, stripped down to the buff, then made himself a sandwich. With her family asleep upstairs, Ruth grabbed her bat, stepped up to the plate, then started swinging for the fences, when the intruder refused to leave after Ruth ordered him out of our home. Since 'no' wasn't the right answer, Ruth beat the snot out of the intruder, until he grabbed his clothes and beat a hasty retreat. PIG News is sorely tempted to call Ruth a real swinger, but we're not going there. Why? We don't need her showing up at the PIG Bunker with her Louisville Slugger. Kick Ass Heroine Our heroine is a Keystone State denizen named Lindsay O'Brien who is a regular rider on the Market Frankford El Train. Recently, her commute turned to crap, when a piece of desperado crap - Vaughn Matthews - stole her purse and sprinted off with it, at the 63rd St. Station. Up to the challenge, 28-year-old Lindsay gave chase, catching up with the thief in a stairwell. When Lindsay tried to snatch back her purse, the punk fought back, breaking our heroine's wrist. Next, he tried to ward of his tormentor by hitting Lindsay in the stomach. The punch to the stomach, was, I suspect, Vaughn's biggest mistake. Why? Why indeed. I'm guessing that 10 weeks pregnant Lindsay was boiling mad, the moment this lowlife hit the new life growing inside her. Whatever the case, she responded with a move she learned during her 3.5 years of kick-box training. The kick Lindsay unleashed was so powerful, it shattered her attacker's shin in two places. He limped away, but he didn't get very far. The police officers who rushed to Lindsay's rescue "within seconds" found Vaughn Matthews sprawled in the street, screaming in pain. PIG News is pleased to report that Lindsay's unborn child got a clean bill of health at a local hospital. We're equally pleased that Lindsay is ready, willing, and eager to testify against Vaughn Matthews, when the case is adjudicated. You're our kind of gal, Lindsay. Stupidity on Parade Explosive Idiocy, Down Under Step 1: Light the firecracker. Step 2: Toss the firecracker into a toilet. Step 3: Wait for the ensuing 'bang',which doesn't happen. Step 4: Pluck the unexploded firecracker from the toilet. Step 5: Get a painful reality check when the firecracker, belatedly, explodes in your hand. Unhappily, the fickle fates cut this 16-year-old hooligan some slack. Although his hand was injured by the 'boom', it didn't sustain any lasting damage. Life is sort of sucky that way. Beehive State Firebugs Gathered around the mineshaft, the pyromaniac pinheads amused themselves by lighting a gas bomb, chucking it down the mine shaft, then enjoying the ensuing explosion. It all went according to their pyro plan, until one fumble-fingered pyro pinhead spilled their combustible fuel. In record time, the fuel found an ignition source, igniting an inferno which charred a dozen of the firebugs, five of whom were burned badly enough to require treatment in the burn center at the University of Utah. I'm not sure what they're learning at BYU, but it's a slam dunk that common sense isn't part of the curriculum. Bay State Butthead Failing miserably, Scott turned his back on his epic failure and walked away from his mistake. Unhappily, by then, someone had reported his unorthodox attempt at an ATM withdrawal to the police. When a badge packer spotted him and tried to question him, Scott strutted his dumbass stuff, trying to elude capture by walking faster. Although he was quickly bagged, tagged, and dragged, Scott clammed up, refusing to give his name. He was, however, involuntarily cooperative in one regard, when the cops found the tool of his ATM busting trade, a silver hatchet with a foot long black handle, on him. When last seen, Scott was spending some quality time in a Bay State graybar hotel, on an outstanding warrant, plus, a malicious destruction of property over $250. If that doesn't give him food for thought, he might want to mull this fun fact: according to a Credit Union employee, his hatchet job was doomed before he started, because, even if he broke into the ATM, the money would still be out of reach. Smooth moves Dillinger! Premature Explosivication Boom 1: The good news is that the bomb worked perfectly. Best of all, when it exploded, the only ones blown to smithereens were these Jihadikaze asshats. BOOM! Instant deselection. I love it when a plan comes together. Boom 2 The hilarity ensued at an Islamic boarding school in Islamikaze infested Indonesia, when a 30-year-old man known only as 'Firdaus', decided to share his bomb-making expertise with some of the students. Apparently his expertise wasn't 'all that', because, while he was demonstrating his bomb making skills, he blew himself to the hellish hereafter that he so richly deserves. When the police showed up to investigate, the school's officials and Islamikaze inmates prevented the investigators from entering the building where the explosion took place. Game, set, match? Not exactly. The day after they were denied access to the school, the police caught a break. When they stopped bus that was leaving the school, the police found the mortal remains of the bomb maker. In addition to detaining 11 individuals for questioning, the cops seized some arrows and machetes.
Is this an example of the vaunted - utterly mythical - moderate Islamikaze? Perhaps, if you want to deem it very 'civilized' of this Islamikaze asshat to blow himself up, without taking some innocent bystanders with him. Fool Me Once... Our hero is a 63-year-old Fort Pierce (Flori-DUH) dude who has a PIG-worthy payday ritual. Flushed with cash, he goes down to the corner and engages the services of one, or more, hookers. Big, big, fun. On his last 'outing', our hero - I'm going to call him Eager Eddie - engaged the services of 3 'girls in short skirts'. After he availed himself of the professional services, he paid each their $20 asking price for the services rendered. A very satisfied customer, he rewarded each hooker with a cash tip, then, tuckered out from his booty call he took a nap. When he woke up, his playmates were gone and so was $90 of his money. Annoyed, Eager Eddie called the cops to report the theft. While he was exchanging pleasantries with the proper authorities, Eager Eddie fessed up to another payday habit: the post booty call robbery. That's right, PIGsters, the local hookers all know that Eager Eddie is as reliable as an ATM machine, when it comes to leaving his money lying around, unattended:
Eager Eddie is a relentlessly fun guy who really needs to give up his payday 'robbed by a hooker' habit. Stupidity On Parade Better Than Breadcrumbs I The scheme started off as planned, when they broke into a boat yard, where there were plenty of watercraft ripe for the plucking. The only impediment in their way was an eye in the sky - a CCTV camera perched atop a pole in the boat yard. Undaunted, one of the bright bulbs shinnied up the pole, where his date with dumbass desperado destiny awaited him: There's little better than a full-face close-up in a CCTV camera for identifying a criminal. The good news is that the dinghy dipsticks got across the river in their borrowed boat. The bad news is that the fool in the picture now has one of the best known faces in J.O.E. It's just a matter of time, Einstein. Better Than Breadcrumbs, II After complying with the dealership's rules of test drive engagement, Swifty got into the car with one of the dealership's salesmen for his test drive. Did the car meet his approval? Yup. Did he complete the transaction? Not exactly. When the salesman stopped the car to let Swifty drive, our hero made his move. He locked the car doors, jumped into the driver's seat, and, after a brief tussle with the salesman through a partially opened window, drove off with the car. Game, set, match? Not exactly. Remember that business about 'complying with the dealership's rules of test drive engagement'? Believe it or not, that included making a photocopy of Swifty's driver's license. Armed with the info on Swify's license, the proper authorities visited Swifty's humble abode, where our hero had the Lancer parked in his driveway. Bagged, tagged, and dragged? Yup, and the charges include 'assault with intent to take and drive a vehicle'. Smooth moves, Swifty. Pamploma Bull's Get In Their Licks It that time of year again. It's that magic moment when intellectual flatliners play chicken with big, cranky bovines on the streets of Pamploma (Spain). As usual, some of the adventure seeking morons are verifying the venerable adage: If you mess with the bull, you get the horns.
Playing chicken with large, cranky bovines has to be a symptom of severe testosterone poisoning. I'm just sayin'. Blame Game Howie Kohlenberg is a 47-year-old Big Apple denizen is not a happy camper. Why? His 'sexy 37-year-old wife', Christine, dumped him like a bad habit, leaving Howie a divorced, single parent of his 4 ½ year-old son. Still unable to 'get over it', Howie knows where to place the blame and it's not on his star-struck bride. Instead, he affixes all of the blame on Jerry Seinfeld. Yes, I mean THAT Jerry Seinfeld. Is Jerry boning the 'sexy' Christine? Not really, but Howie still blames Jerry. Why? Because Jerry is the executive producer of the NBC reality show: "The Marriage Ref". So what? So Howie and Christine appeared on the premiere episode in March, 2010. It did not foster a happily ever after for Howie and Christine. If you're unaware of this boob tube blight, join the club. The modus operandi of the show is that boob tube mainstay, bickering couples. Although Howie and Christine tended to argue about their now defunct Midtown spa, the show's producers had other ideas. Instead of the failing business, they wanted on-air wrangling about dumb stuff, like the fact that Howie removed his ring to play hoops. The real problems, according to Howie, arose, when Christine got the reality show bug, which made her dream of a staring role in a Real Housewives-ish reality show.
Howie's bummed because his wife dumped him, then ran off to become a reality show star. I'd like to 'feel his pain', but I can't. If he blamed his business failure, I'd cut him some slack. If he simply blamed Christine for getting that wild, reality star, hair up her butt, I'd cut him some slack. BUT, when he whines the Jerry Seinfeld ruined his marriage, he's on the fast track to a PIGish bitch-slap. Congratulations, Howie, you just landed in the loser's circle, as the Politically Incorrect Gazette's Girlieman of the Week. Road Kill A Houston (Mexas) denizen, 45-year-old James Onak, might be a lot of things, but a distracted driver isn't one of them. He proved that, a few minutes after midnight when he was driving southbound, on the Gulf Freeway. He wasn't distracted, when the driver of a disabled vehicle tried to cross the freeway in front of James' black Mazda. He wasn't distracted, when he slammed into the pedestrian. He wasn't distracted, when the man he hit was sent flying over the Mazda's hood, through the windshield and into the passenger seat. He wasn't distracted, when he pulled off the freeway drove a few blocks on the surface streets. He finally got distracted, when a Harris County Constable pulled him over to ask about the damage to the Mazda and the dead guy in the passenger seat. How undistracted was James? He told the cops that he knew he hit something, but had no idea that his road kill was in the passenger seat. And why wasn't James distracted? If you guessed 'under the influence' give yourself a cookie. Smoking Kills? Old enough to know better at age 52, a Brit dude surrendered to an intense craving for a cancer stick. Needing a cigarette in the worst way, our hero made a fateful decision. Unable to smoke on the Tube train, he opened an emergency door between railroad cars, while riding on the Metropolitan Line Tube, which was traveling between Chorleywood, Herts, and Chesham, Bucks. No harm, no foul? You know better. While enjoying his smoke, the man filed his emergency human gene pool improvement application, when he fell through the gap between the railroad cars. Within seconds - shortly before he was decapitated - he got the thrilling 'Accepted' news. Smoking kills? You better believe it, 'leave the emergency doors alone, while the train is moving', Sparky. |
JUNE 2011 |
A Man on a Mission When a Connecticut homeowner arrived at his Farmington abode, he had a nasty shock waiting for him. Somebody had kick in his front door. Making matters worse, the perpetrator was still on the scene and didn't try to hide the fact. Instead, he greeted the homeowner, identified himself as Leon Sark (his real name is Levon Sarkisyan), then insisted that "a light from above told him to do this". From there, Leon/Levon went much deeper into 'weird':
Leon/Levon is several tacos short of a combination plate, and thus a prime candidate for my lovely bride's all purpose solution: just shoot the crazy bastard, Dan-o. Excuses, Excuses The fun started, after an Okaloosa County (Flori-DUH) Sheriff deputy noticed Louis Cruz driving erratically. Pulling Louis over, the deputy asked the relevant questions and got some interesting answers. When the deputy chided Louis for his erratic driving, our hero served up his first excuse: my truck has a flat tire, and that makes it swerved. Unimpressed by that response, the deputy persuaded Louis to perform the requisite field sobriety tests. Louis' movements didn't pass muster with the deputy, but once again, Louis had an excuse: his "bad foot". Was the deputy suitably impressed by Louis' bad foot? More or less. When Louis showed off his bad foot, the deputy was VERY impressed by the firearm Louis carried in an ankle holster. When he found out that Louis didn't have a permit for his firearm, the deputy quickly elevated his pleasantries to 'assume the position'. Bagged, tagged, and dragged? You better believe it, 'your foot looks fine, but that unlicensed gun might be a problem' Sparky. Smooth Moves, Moron An Empire State nitwit, 20-year-old Sean Schmidt, begged for it, while he was traveling down Interstate 190 in Buffalo. Determined to attract attention, he stood up in the car and stuck his upper torso out th vehicle's sunroof. Did he attract attention? You bet. As luck would have it, Sean's antics where duly noted by a state policeman, who promptly switched on his lights to pull the car over. Sean's first thought was to ditch the bag of Weed he had on him, so he tossed it away from the car, then watched in horror when the baggie of marijuana landed on he hood of the state police cruiser. Nice throw, dude. Sean got all the attention he could handle when the state police ticketed him for possession of marijuana and not wearing a seatbelt. Adventures In Stupidity Tempting Fate In New Jersey The fun started, when our hero - a 24-year-old New Jersey dude - spotted a timber rattlesnake on Route 679 in Tuckerton. Overwhelmed by a bout of inter-species concern, our hero decided to move the slithering road hog, out of harm's way. Apparently, the rattlesnake wasn't in the mood to have this good Samaritan nudge him off the road with a stick. Our hero got that message loud and clear, when the critter, wrapped itself around his arm and bit him. Suitably 'enlightened', our hero drove 3 miles to seek solace from some fellow humans. After a helicopter ride, our amateur snake wrangler was in a local hospital, where his condition is deemed 'stable'. Parting shot: Let the trained professionals deal with rattlesnakes...In other words, don't try this at home. Begging For It In Colorado The last time he was seen alive, David Johnson was standing next to his camper. He had a burning object in one hand, which he was attempting to extinguish with the beer he held in his other hand. Did it work? Not really. Minutes later, the camper was on fire. By the time the police arrived, it was too late for our 48-year-old hero, who had achieved room temperature, while sitting inside his camper. If you're confused, you're in good company, because, so far, the police can't make all the pieces fit. While the cops try to pin down all the relevant facts, I'll cut to the chase: file his one under 'smoke gets in your eyes, and your lungs' in your human gene pool improvement scorecard. Portrait of a Loser Our hero - 34-year-old Christopher Tisley - is a Windy City desperado who is in the running for our Loser of the Year award. His brandished his loser credentials, this week, when he strolled into a convenience store at 3 a.m., looking for a modest cash infusion. A MODEST cash infusion? You bet. Confronting the store clerk, Chris made his pitch, demanding a very precise amount of money. How much did he want? 99 cents. Making this matter memorable, the clerk refused, prompting Chris to punctuate his demand, by brandishing his gun. Game, set, match? Nope. Another customer arrived, spooking Chris into leaving, temporarily. Seizing the moment, the store clerk locked the door, after which a frustrated Chris pounded on the windows of the store, repeatedly. Eventually, Chris cut his losses, and moved on down the road, but he didn't get far, because the cops bagged, and tagged him a block away. When the police searched Chris, his firearm was missing in action, but the cops didn't wind up empty handed, because they found 3 grams of meth in his pocket. Book 'em, Dan-o...stupidity in the first degree. Taking The Plunge While attending a commercial diving academy in Jacksonville (Flori-DUH), a Mexifornia meathead - Nathaniel Borden, 23 - gave credence to the 'it might be something in the water' argument. Is there something in the water that brings out the DOLT, in visitors to the Sunshine State? The jury is still out, on that one. In this case, the 'something' that ended up in the water was our visiting Mexifornian. He made his move, on a Sunday morning, after ingesting an unknown quantity of adult beverages. How drunk was Nathaniel? He drank enough to put him in 'watch this' mode. The 'this' he wanted his friends to watch was a back flip off a bridge crossing the Trout River, 32 feet below. Somewhere between his fateful leap and his smash landing into the water, the fickle fates stamped Nathaniel's human gene pool improvement application "accepted". Imagine Bumping Into YOU A Corpus Christi (Mexas) woman insists her fender bender was due to her texting while driving, but the relevant justice system officials have another cause in mind: she was drunk as a skunk. As fender benders go, this one isn't memorable, except for one, pesky detail: our drunk as a skunk wench, ran into a police cruiser. It happened around 1 a.m., when our heroine approached the intersection of Everhart Road and South Padre Island Drive. Too drunk - she claims too distracted - for her own good, she didn't see the cop car waiting for the light to change. In fact, the first time the cop car registered in her booze-addled brain, was when she ran into it. That's not MY idea of supporting your local police department. Luckily, neither the police officer, nor his ride-along passenger were hurt. Neither was our heroine, who was bagged, tagged, and dragged to a Corpus Christi graybar hotel for a 'how drunk is the bitch' drug test. Multi-tasking On Steroids During a lawsuit spawned by a crash on the D.C. Beltway, last year, a stellar example of multi-tasking emerged to thrill the snot out of every-damn-body. Task 1: "At the time of the collision, Defendant was going 85 miles per hour." Task 2: "At the time of the collision, Defendant was having sex with a female." Task 3: "At the time of the collision, Defendant was driving admittedly drunk." Task 4: "At the time of the accident, Defendant was partially or totally in the backseat of the car." Drunk? Check. Speeding? Check. Having sex with a female? Check. He was in the backseat of the car? WTF? Amazing Human Tricks & Other Pratfalls Resetting the Bar For 'Severely Lost' Longer than expected? What would you call turning up in Pensacola (Flori-DUH) an impressive 524 miles away. 524 miles! Holy 'three hour tours', Batman. Question: How do you drive THAT far without stopping, at least once, to ask for directions? Enquiring minds want to know. Water, Water, Everywhere... The fun hit flood stage, when some citizens spotted a drunk as a skunk Robert Shreeves floating down the dangerously swollen Missouri River in his homemade kiddie pool raft. After the calls kept coming in, the proper authorities decided to go take a look. Eventually, the justice system officials bagged, tagged, and dragged Robert to a high and dry Sioux City Graybar suite, after our hero strayed too close to a Sioux City boat ramp. Believe it or not, stupidity on this scale is NOT a death penalty offense. In fact, it's not an offense at all, but public intoxication is, and Robert made the cut on that one. BZZZZZZT Primed for an enriching experience, James headed for the electrical substation located in a mothballed Post Office. Was James enriched? Not exactly, but he was enlightened, thanks to a painful lesson in applied physics. That happened, when he crouched near the cable, planning to make his move. 'It' in this case is a massive, 22,000 volt, wake up call, which arced from the power source to James' body. "Accepted"? Nope, but as warnings go, this one is about as 'thrilling' as they get. James' injuries were so disfiguring, that his daughter - yes the HMS Gene Pool Tainting has already sailed - didn't recognize him. In addition to his burns, James' close encounter with that massive electrical jolt damaged his heart, left him partially blinded in his left eye, and made one of his hands unmoveable. Suitably enlightened, James is, belatedly, vowing to clean up his act. That's the first good idea he's had, because, if this is a 'warning shot', I don't even want to think about what the Fates have planned when they punch his ticket to oblivion. Freak Accident? From our strange, but true, desk we bring you this improbable tale. The key ingredients are a money emporium's far from user friendly ATM machine and a female customer who tried to complete a transaction. Everything went as planned, until the woman tried to extract money from the machine. In most cases the process is simple and straightforward...in most cases. This time, the money didn't deploy properly, so the woman reached in to get it and - TA DA - her hand got stuck. Eventually some Moon Run (Pennsylvania) firefighters arrived to extricate the woman from her miserly tormentor. Happily ever after? Apparently, but I do have a pesky, unresolved, issue. According to a write-up in WPXI, the firefighters used a 'special piece of equipment' to extricate the woman. Why, I wonder, do the firefighters have this tool which is particularly adept at resolving this miserly ATM issue? Are 'they' hiding the fact that ATM machine's from sea to shining sea have declared war on the humans who use, and/or abuse, them? It's Enquiring Minds time in the FSOP. Road Warrior Checks Out Normally, I would pin a 'human gene pool improvement volunteer' label on this Mexas meathead, but I can't, in this case. Why? Our hero, Richard L. Roundtree, didn't volunteer to improve the human gene pool, he demanded that the fickle fates take him. No matter how they tried to dissuade Richard, he refused to take 'no' for an answer. Instead, he kept at them, until he got 'er done. First, around 8 p.m., our hero T-boned a car which had 3 occupants. When the fates ignored him, Richard kicked it up a notch, to get their attention. How? He climbed onto he roof of his SUV, then stripped down to the buff. Did that get the attention of the fates? You better believe it, because, when he climbed back into his ride and headed on down the road, his next stop was oblivion. Wasting no time, Richard lost control of the car, then slammed into a tree, at the precise moment that the fates marked his application "accepted". File this one under 'try, try, again' on your HGPI scorecard. Exit Strategy Our hero is a Flori-DOLT named Jose Perez. After a generous infusion of adult beverages, Jose was - his girlfriend assured him - too gassed to drive a car. Unwilling to face the facts, and unable to get a second opinion, Jose pouted, shouted, and played the fool from the front passenger seat, while his lady drove them home. In that terminally belligerent condition that's a no cost option when you're bombed out of your mind, Jose just couldn't let it go. Finally, unable to make his woman let him drive, he kicked his antics up several notches, by threatening to jump from the car if she didn't let him drive. When his girlfriend didn't cave in to his threat, Jose opened his door and jumped out of the car. The last thing he heard before he slammed into the pavement was those frisky fates stamping his human gene pool improvement application "ACCEPTED". |
MAY 2011 |
Three Tough Old Birds Our heroines are three vintage (ages: 89, 82, and 72 year old 'tyke') Aussie ladies, who are still full of spit and vinegar. A mugger found out about the 'spit and vinegar' part, the hard way, when he accosted them in an underground parking garage. In a flash, the mugger, appeared out of nowhere and had a knife pressed against the throat of the 82 year old (lady 2). Lady 2 responded with a kick to the groin, which, unhappily, missed the mark. While Lady 2 limbered up for another boot to the nads, Lady 1 (the 89 year old) began pummeling the knife wielding mugger with her handbag. By then the ruckus attracted the attention of an Aussie male, turning the tide of 'battle' against the mugger, decisively. When he beat a hasty retreat to a nearby car, Lady 3 (the youngster) jotted down the license plate number. Nicely done, ladies. Parting shot: Lady 1 is still spoiling for a fight, because she wanted to put the mugger out of her misery, permanently:
You're our kind of gal, darlin'. I'm Ready For My Close-up By and large, our hero - Swifty - accomplished his bank heist goal. Suitably disguised with a 'hoodie' concealing most of his face, he managed to separate a Columbus (Ohio) bank - PNC Bank - from some of its money. He got in, gave a bank teller his 'I have a gun, hand over the money' note, got his cash infusion, and made a clean getaway. A perfect crime? Not exactly. There was, however, this pesky incident:
Smooth move, Swifty. It's very 'white' of you to give the proper authorities a helping hand, by letting them see your face. Rumors of My Death Are... Our hero is a 31-year-old New Hampshire man named Scott Wellington. We the PIGs are compelled to, reluctantly, give Scott Wellington credit for his jaw-dropping audacity. Fear not, you'll understand, momentarily. At some point, Scott decided to enrich himself at the expense of his employer, C&M Machine. Did he rob them? Not exactly. Did he fake an injury? Not exactly, but you're very close. First, Scott convinced his bosses that his wife was in dire medical straits, due to cancer. Did C&M buy the story? You bet. In fact they shelled out $7,000, to help Scott with the medical expenses. Some time later, Scott ended the medical 'drama' by telling his bosses that his wife had died. That, as it turned out, was his undoing. Why? Why indeed. C&M Machine sent a sympathy card to Scott's home, a missive which landed in his wife's hands. That's right, she didn't have cancer and was very much alive. She was, however, mad as hell over the deception. How mad? She was mad enough to call C&M Machine and rat out her hubby. In record time, Scott's bosses had the local police on hand to bag, tag, and drag Scott to a guest suite in the local graybar hotel. Under normal circumstances, Scott could seek his wife's assistance in securing his $2,500 bail. In this case, that's not a winning idea. In fact, all things considered, that graybar suite is the safest place for him, because, if he goes home, his enraged bride will turn him into a crime statistic. Amazing Adventures in Stupidity Lose Something? They might not want to discuss it, but others are ready, willing, and eager to report that the handcuffed guest made pit stop at a nearby Home Depot. The errant guest, quite rightly, concluded that Home Depot might have the right tools to deal with those f-ing handcuffs. His quest was successful, but not the way he wanted. Instead of providing him with the necessary tools, the Home Depot employees who spotted the errant guest, alerted the Sheriff's Department. Aided by a police mutt, the justice system officials found their missing guest, who was freed from the handcuffs and installed in a waiting guest suite. Rookie Rule Breaker * Casing the joint doesn't make it an idea whose time has come, when you rob an establishment where you're a regular, long-term, customer:
* If you must rob a place where you're known, NEVER remove your mask in front of the robbery victims who work there:
* Last, but far from least, if you do rob an establishment where you're a regular customer and did expose your face in the process, DO NOT, under any circumstances, return to the scene of your crime, the NEXT DAY:
At first, Brandon's mom gave her baby boy a convincing alibi for the night of the robbery. That changed, when the clerk didn't back down on his 'that's him' identification. That's why Brandon was finally bagged, tagged, and dragged to an empty suite in a local graybar hotel. Begging For It It was 11 p.m., when he pulled up to the house in his spiffy Ford Mustang. So what? Oh, did I forget to mention that Okaloosa County Sheriff's deputies were in the process of executing a search warrant at that location, when Swifty drove up? Swifty took his antics to a whole new level of stupid, when curious deputies noted that Swifty and his spiffy ride REEKED of weed. More than a little suspicious, the badge packers cordially invited Swifty to hang around for while. Showing a glimmer of residual synaptic activity, Swifty asked them why they made the offer he couldn't refuse. When the deputies stated the obvious - "You and your ride reek of weed" - Swifty blurted out what the deputies already knew and were trying prove: "Yeah, I smoke weed, a lot of weed". Swifty's self-incriminating assertion was substantiated, when a search of his ride produced 'several pieces of marijuana'. Book this fool, Dan-o. A Painful Escape Strategy I know what you're thinking, but that's not it. Hector was much too impatient to try and 'dig' his way out, so he ventured into new, uncharted, jail break territory. First, he used a sheet to block the view of those intrusive Graybar Hotel security cameras. With his 'privacy' assured, Hector went to work on the brick near the cell door frame...with his fists. That's right, PIGsters, Hector tried to - I am NOT making this up - punch his way out of that Graybar Suite. It's an interesting try, but it was doomed to failure. Tough darts, dude. I'm pleased to report that Hector didn't emerge empty handed. In fact, in addition to some swollen, very sore, hands, he earned two new entries for his rap sheet: criminal mischief, attempted escape. Our Kind Of Guy By any rational standard, our hero - an 81 year old Hong Kong man - didn't stand a chance when a gang of 15 to 19 year old troublemakers attacked him. I'm pleased to report that our hero vastly exceeded the gang's expectation. Our hero's unplanned adventure started, at 4 a.m., when he was on his way to a morning exercise class. At least 8 in number, the teenagers accosted him from behind, when our hero entered a pedestrian tunnel. They pushed the man to the ground and tried to rob him, but he wasn't the easy mark they expected. A veritable tiger, your venerable hero fought back with age-defying ferocity that left his mark on his attackers. By the time the teenagers had the good sense to run away, the five dudes and three wenchlets were sufficiently cut up that they left a trail of blood for the proper authorities to follow. Thanks to that bloody trail, the cops found the teenagers in a nearby apartment, tending to their wounds. I'm please to report that all 8 were bagged, tagged, and dragged. You'll enjoy hearing that some of the teenagers had to be treated in a local hospital. PIGish kudos go out to our venerable kick ass hero, for giving them a lesson they won't soon forget. |
APRIL 2011 |
Stupidity Is Its Own Reward Remarkable Recidivism Tuesday, 7 p.m.: Police respond to a crash and find our hero who had just played chicken with a utility pole and lost. He did manage to total the utility pole, but it wasn't a 'bloodless' victory, since his 2011 Mercedes emerged with 'moderate front-end damage'. Tuesday, Midnight: After being bagged, tagged, and dragged, to the police station on DUI charges, plus 'failure to drive right', Mark was kicked loose, with one important restriction: 'State law automatically imposes a 24-hour license revocation for anyone charged with driving under the influence. Those who violate the revocation are subject to a mandatory 30-day prison sentence.' (The Day) Wednesday, 11:17 a.m.: Responding to an erratic driver report, the proper authorities pull over a 1970's vintage Pontiac Firebird. It was our hero Mark, and he was up to his old tricks, in a different car. DUI? Yup. He hit another utility pole? Yup. Failure to drive right? Yup. Violating the 24 your revocation period? Yup. He's also charged with something called 'evading responsibility'. Thursday morning: Mark was in a graybar suite on a $10,000 bond and headed for an exchange of pleasantries with a judge in New London Superior Court, later in the day. It's not his first justice system encounter, and given his lengthy record, it won't be his last. Mark is a stoner and a repeat offender. Despite that, the FSOP salutes Mark for his new recidivism personal best. Two cars, two utility poles, and two arrests in an action packed 16 hours puts him in the running for one of our yearly awards. "Watch This" Looking for big time fun, Randall Landry drove his pickup truck into an unpaved parking lot, where he planned to thrill his passengers by doing some "donuts". I'm not sure if 'thrilled' is the appropriate word for the events which forcibly evicted Randall and a rear seat passenger named Jose Castillo from the human gene pool. Here in the FSOP, the operative word in this kind of story is "accepted". The Fates were on top of their game, and stamped the Human Gene Pool Improvement Volunteer application 'accepted', the instant Randall rolled his truck. That's when Mark and Jose were ejected from the vehicle which promptly rolled over and crushed them. Parting shot: If you're thinking typical hormone gorilla antics, get over it, because Randall isn't a teenager, or even a 20-something dude. Mark was, at age 43, old enough to know better. Midnight Madness The key ingredients in this action-packed yarn are - an Australia-dwelling Irish expatriate named Andrew Short, a beehive containing 8000 bees, a ladder, and an infusion of adult beverage. The fun started, when, after a suitable adult beverage infusion, Andrew decided that midnight was the perfect time to relocate a beehive from his backyard to his rooftop. Yes, I know it sounds moronic, to us, but it was an idea whose time had come, to our hero. The good news is that Andrew is a 'registered amateur beekeeper'. The bad news is that he's a rookie in the beekeeper game, so, even his official beekeeper suit didn't save him from what we all know is headed his way:
Is Andrew done with bees? Hardly. He's pleased as punch with his rooftop beehive, which isn't, believe it or not, an Andy original. Apparently, rooftop beehives are a popular hobby for dwellers of high buildings in Paris. Parting shot: Who gets to explain to the bees that they can't expand their operation from the hive to the interior of Andrew's house? Watch This We'll never know what, if anything, was going through Samson Lindsey's mind, when the Gadsden (Alabama) 24-year-old and some friends stood near the boat dock behind a local eatery. We do, however know a few helpful tidbits. We know he asked his friends if they would jump in to save him, if he dove into the water. We also know that his friends thought Samson was joking, because they knew, for a fact, that Sampson couldn't swim. Most important of all, we know that he did jump in, and drown, when his friends, despite their best efforts, couldn't liberate him from a watery demise in the Coosa River. Finally, we know that, despite their prompt arrival, the emergency responders had trouble finding Sampson's mortal remains, too. Human gene pool improvement? It certainly appears that way, but that raises another question. Why didn't a dude with a Biblical name like 'Sampson' qualify for Old Ka-Boom's Fools & Drunks exemption? I defy you to find a bigger fool that Sampson "Watch This" Lindsey. Hell No, I Won't Go The fun started, when the Oregon State Police pulled over a Maryland resident, Lester Kasten. The fun flamed up, after the officers came up with "probable cause" to search Lester's rented ride, a 2011 Jeep Cherokee. Lester, apparently, was not in a mood to exchange pleasantries with the state police at 11 p.m. He proved that, the moment the proper authorities approached his rented ride. That's when Lester doused the interior of Cherokee, including himself, with a flammable liquid, then set it all ablaze with his lighter. Game, set, match? Nope. The troopers responded quickly, by snatching Lester out of the Cherokee, before the flames engulfed him. His bad luck remained in play, because the firefighters arrived in record time, allowing them to put out the fire which only did minor damage to the Cherokee. And what, you ask, is Lester's damage? He might be nuts, but his actions aren't as bonkers as they appear, because he thought a roaring fire would destroy the suitcase containing 30 pounds of marijuana. When last seen, Lester was in an Oregon Graybar Hotel, trying to find a way to wriggle out of a laundry list of charges: Unlawful Possession / Distribution of a Controlled Substance - Marijuana; Criminal Conspiracy to Commit Unlawful Possession / Distribution of a Controlled Substance -Marijuana; Arson in the Second Degree; Tampering With Evidence; Criminal Mischief in the First Degree; Interfering With a Police Officer; Disorderly Conduct. No wonder he tried to torch himself. |
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MARCH 2011 Just Call Him 'Lucky' A Keystone State trucker, Richard Paylor, caught a break, when the fickle fates, marked his human gene pool improvement volunteer application "accepted' prematurely. Thanks to their antics, Richard earned a new nickname, 'Lucky'. This adventure in self-induced deselectiion started, while Richard was driving his truck along a Pennsylvania highway near Reading, and got the muchies. In a move that would please the Red Shed Harpy, he started munching on an apple. No harm, no foul? Nope. Deselection seemed locked and loaded, when Richard choked on a piece of apple, and passed out. With his truck on 'autopilot', Richard's deselection seemed a fait accompli, but that's when dumb luck foiled the fate's clever scheme. Richard's truck went 'off road trucking' when it smashed through a concrete median, then came to an abrupt halt. The sudden stop made Richard's chest smash into the steering wheel, an action which, by a one in a million stroke of luck, imitated theHeimlich maneuver. The chunk of apple was dislodged, clearing the way for some life-sustaining air to enter Richard's lungs. As lifesaving measures go, this one was, by any reasonable standard very crude. It was, however, very effective, for Richard "Lucky" Paylor. Brass Nads And Copper Don't Mix Our hero, a 19-year-old New Jersey jackass named Anthony Frodelly, is either dumber than a box of rocks or he's cursed with Jupiter-size brass nads. I'll let you make that call. He blundered onto the radar of Cranford Plumbing, Heating & Cooling (Garwood, New Jersey) when a video surveillance camera recorded his thievery, when he stole copper tubing from a company van. Refusing to rest on his laurels, he kicked it up a notch, the very next day. How? You're going to love it. The next day, shortly after the owner of Cranford Plumbing, Heating & Cooling had watched Tony's thievery on a surveillance tape, he got a shock, when our hero strolled into the company he just ripped off. Why? He was looking for a job. Big brass ones? Oh, hell yes. Bagged, tagged, and dragged for theft? That too. Parting shot: If Tony represents the average level of intelligence in the Garden State, it tells me all I need to know about a state that views Snooki as some kind of sex goddess. Flaming Idiocy The key ingredients in this epic are: a cigarette lighter, a can of brake fluid, an Arizona nitwit, and a colony of bees that homesteaded an attic. In a move that epitomizes 'it seemed like a good idea, at the time', our hero, apparently, doused the beehive in his attic with brake fluid, then set it ablaze with his lighter. Mission accomplished? It is, if, and only if, the objective was to set fire to his attic. For the record, 'don't try this at home' is in play. Luckily, through no fault of our firebug, he didn't manage to destroy his home. He did, however, manage to turn the part of his attic containing the beehive extra crispy, and inflict smoke and water damage to other portions of the house. Smooth moves, Einstein. A Teachable Moment A pair of inquisitive, Windy City, hormone gorillas got a painful lesson in applied physics, this week. The fun started, when a pair of 15 year old lads decided to explore a building that, in a former incarnation, housed the Edgewater Hospital and Medica Center. I don’t know what they were seeking in the empty building, but I know what they found: BZZZZZT, enlightenment. Their lesson in physics began, after they ventured onto the roof of the building and got a painful introduction to the electricity that still flowed through the power transformer located on the roof of the building. I imagine it happened this way; Hormone Gorilla 1: "Wow! Look at this!" H.G. 2: "Cool. I wonder if it still works." H.G. 1: "I double dog dare you to touch it." H.G. 2: "How much?" H.G. 1: "All I’ve got is $5. Deal?" H.G. 2: "Okay...Here goes nothin’...." BZZZZZT....KA-BOOM! One of the lads got hammered by a powerful electrical jolt, sending him to a local hospital in ‘serious-to-critical condition. His friend was a bit luckier, since he didn’t get the electrical jolt, but was struck by debris from the ensuing explosion. He’s also in a local hospital, in fair-to-serious condition. So far, it looks like both lads will survive their painful lesson in applied physics. Of course, since this is Chicago, the untimely demise of one, or both, of them would not disqualify them from voting in local elections. A Loser Twofer Giving Stupidity a Bad Name This week, Danny boy had John Dillenger spinning in his grave, when he perpetrated a hall of shame class heist. Unlike most dumb criminals, he started out on a low note and it was all downhill from there. Eschewing the straightforward hand a teller a robbery note then take the money, Danny boy got a case of the cutes. Around 1:40 p.m., he arrived at the scene of his crime and told the Metro Bank minions that he wanted to open an account. When the bank minion asked for two forms of identification he gave it to them. After starting on the account opening application, he switched gears, telling the bank minion that the account opening application was a mistake. He was, he told them, really there to rob the bank. He got a cash infusion, then drove off in his getaway ride, but his escape had its own thrills, chills and spills. Moments after he left the Metro Bank with his ill-gotten gains, Danny boy collided with another car. Unwilling to stop, he kept on going, but, by then, his fate was sealed, because, armed with copies of the two I.D.’s he’d provided to the bank, the cops got an arrest warrant for him. It was still afternoon, when state police stopped Danny boy for suspicion of DUI. During the routine check on Danny boy, they found out he was wanted for bank robbery, so they searched for, and located, the bank loot. Danny boy’s descent into his own circle of ‘I’m a DUMBASS’ hell was complete, when he was bagged, tagged, and dragged to a graybar hotel on a laundry list of charges, including his bank robbery antics. Parting shot: Daniel Rahynes is a compelling reason why stupidity - especially on his level - should be a death penalty offense. Forget about booking him, Dan-o, just shoot the poor dumb bastard. Resetting The Bar For Stupidity The brain-fart: On February 26, 2011, a contract employee, who was hired to guard the McNamara Federal Building in the Motor City, spotted a package outside the building which houses the FBI, IRS and the offices of a libertard Moonbat, Senator Carl Levin. What to do? Follow protocol and summon the bomb squad? Nope. In this case, our insecurity guard, picked up the package, carried it inside, then stuck it on a shelf in ‘lost and found’. The skivvies soiling ‘holy crap’ s discovery: On March 18, 2011, one of Uncle Sam’s minions had unscheduled synaptic activity. As a result, he, she, heshe, or it, took a renewed interest in this mysterious package which had been stored inside a federal facility for 3 weeks, so the curious worker bee had the package x-rayed. ‘Holy crap’ reached critical mass, when the x-ray revealed wires. That’s right, PIGsters, the package that lurked in the bowels of the federal building in Detroit contained a PIPE BOMB. After the bomb was tamed by the Detroit Police Department bomb squad, and numerous employees torched their soiled skivvies, it was time to rethink their security protocols. The contract guard? If you’re thinking ‘fired’, get over it. He, she, heshe, or it got a suspension. Belatedly, all the building’s security staff will be subjected to the tender mercy of a ‘special training team’. Those screamers will instill the requisite ‘if you don’t know what it is, don’t F**KING TOUCH IT’ paranoia in the rent-a-cops hired to patrol the federal building. Stranger Than Fiction Involuntary Confinement Determined to bring help, our victim of hooligan games dialed 911 to report that he was ‘being held against his will’. Was he, in fact, being held against his will? You better believe it, Sparky, but here in the Free State of PIG, we have other ways of describing it. One of them is ‘book ‘em, Dano’. Another is ‘bagged, tagged, and dragged to a graybar hotel’. That’s right, PIGsters, this fool, who was busted for disorderly conduct, called 911 to complain that the cops had locked him up in a cell. After his call, the proper authorities did two things. First, they impounded this clown’s cell phone. Second, they added ‘misuse of 911' to the existing ‘disorderly conduct charge’. We the PIGs give him props for giving it the old college try. It’s A Real Gas The proper authorities are reluctant to do the relevant math, so we’ll do it for them: 2 Barrels of gas + confined space + ignition source = BOOM. In this case, the resulting BOOM was very impressive. How impressive? The initial blast blew the roof off. Later, after the smoke cleared, and the firemen finished their task, nothing remained but the chimney. I’m sure the homeowner is thrilled over that $30,000 she just spent renovating the kitchen in this vacation home. Parting shot: What kind of moron stores two barrels of gasoline in their BASEMENT? That's off the scale stupidity. Giving Stupidity A Bad Name He strutted his synaptically shortchanged felon stuff, when he strolled into a Dallas (Mexas, DUH) branch of Wells Fargo Bank, with robbery on his agenda. He approached the teller, tried to look menacing, then demanded a cash infusion. I’m guessing that he exuded an ‘I’m a moron’ stench, because the teller did a number on him. She told him that she needed to see two forms of identification, before she could let him rob the bank. Could anyone be THAT stupid? Yup. Nathan showed the teller his Wells Fargo debit card and state ID card, after which the teller handed over $800. Our hero didn’t fare much better, when he tried to escape, because the justice system officials made short work of bagging, tagging and dragging him to a graybar. He should know he drill, because he was on parole for two aggravated robberies at the time - July 2010. He had his day in court, this week, and the black robe sent this fool up the river for 8 years. That will make him easy to find, when he runs away with our Moron of the Year award, in December. Adventures In Stupidity Distracted Walking If there’s such a thing as ‘distracted walking’, Alma is in the running for poster wench, posthumously. She was so busy yammering on her cell blight, she overlooked two things while she crossed the street. The first thing she overlooked was the red light which tried to tell her ‘stay where you are’. The second thing she ignored was the tractor-trailer rig that was making a right turn. Lost in the cell idiot zone, Alma got in her last word(s), when she ignored the red light and stepped right in front of the truck. Faster than you can say ‘splat’, Alma got the thrilling "human gene pool improvement volunteer application accepted" news. Imagine Running Into YOU, of All People The good: Side by side, the two road warriors raced down the Bay State byway doing at least twice the posted 35 mph speed limit. The bad: Alejandro Ramos was so obsessed with his rival, he wasn’t paying enough attention to the road ahead, a potentially fatal lapse which made him smash his Hyundai Tiburon into another car. The ugly: The car that Alejandro hit was a Massachusetts State Police cruiser which was driven by Sgt. Edward Treseler, who emerged with a relatively minor wrist injury. HPGI status: Alejandro is in critical condition in a local hospital, so we’ll mark this one as ‘pending’ on our Human Gene Pool Improvement scorecard. No Guts, No Glory, No Cash Infusion A few minutes after 10 a.m., Wavering Willie’s caper hit its high point, when he slipped his robbery note through the teller’s slot. The teller read the note "money in bag", then took just say "no" into uncharted waters when she refused to comply, triggered the alarm, then walked away from the teller’s window. Luckily for Wavering Willie, his lack of nads didn’t prevent his last functioning synapse from firing. Responding to the primal GTFO instinct, our hero fled the scene of the crime. The bad news is that he left empty handed. The good news is that Wavering Willie ‘lived’ to try, try, again. Stranger Than Fiction What A Mother Clucking Moron When the cops arrived at the outpost of pizza wrangling capitalism, they found a drunk as a skunk intruder, attempting to deep fry some boneless chicken wings. With a blood alcohol level of .22 - approximately 3 times the legal limit in Minnesota - the hungry intruder managed to leave more chicken wings strewn on the floor than he loaded into the deep fryer. As dumb as this sounds, it has one final element that makes it PIG-worthy. The 21-year-old chicken-craving drunk, might be an uninvited ‘guest’ by night, but, in the daylight hours, he toiled as a fast food wrangler at - you guessed - that same Pizza Hut. ‘Toiled’ is the operative term here, since, it’s a slam dunk that his early morning ‘snacking’ cost him his job. Life is just one damn thing after another. Jailbait Craving Jailbird It took a while for the wheels of justice to get around to our hero, but his time came, last year, when he was finally arrested. Utterly unamused by Mark, an Illinois black robe sentenced him to 4 years in prison, for manslaughter. Game, set, match? Not exactly. When Mark was arrested, some justice system officials were looking into his unsavory relationship with a 12 year old wenchlet. They kept investigating, after he was issued his own Graybar Suite, and their patience paid off. Still having the hots for the jailbait wenchlet, Mark gave the investigators who were monitoring his calls an earful, when he placed at least 5, sexually explicit, calls to the wenchlet. As a result of his horndog chats with the wenchlet on a TAPPED phone line IN THE JAIL, Mark is headed for another black robe day of reckoning on five felony counts of indecent solicitation of a child. It’s a miracle that our award winner, Mark Seranella, can get any sleep, with his brass nads clanging all night. FEBRUARY 2011
Fabulous Flatliner Adventures Stealth Driving Step 1: Einstein tanked up to an impressive level on adult beverages. Step 2: Around 3 a.m., he climbed into his Cadillac Escalade and hit the open road. Step 3: Due to chronic indecisiveness, our hero was unable to pick a lane and stay in it. Instead, he drove in both lanes at once. Step 4: Rejecting the dictatorial tyranny of traffic signals, our hero attracted more attention, by running a red light. Step 5: The crowning element of our hero’s road warrior antics was the fun fact that one of his front tire’s went missing. Eventually, a taxi driver determined that Einstein was unsafe at any speed, so he notified the proper authorities. The ensuing a encounter with the drunk-o-meter provided an explanation for our hero’s willingness to drive on 3 tires. Being more than 3 times the legal limit - he racked up a 0.08 - will make it easy to ignore a missing tire. A Lo$ing Endeavor A few minutes before 5 p.m. the customer returned, but this time he brought a friend with him. Once again, he asked for a box of .357 ammo. After checking the customer’s I.D., the clerk rang up the sale, at which point the customer produced two $20 bills. When the clerk advised him, "You’re $10.19 short", the customer brandished his .357 Magnum, and switched to desperado mode. After he demanded ‘all the money’ - the high point of this caper - this loser’s attempted heist took a turn for the worst. Glass half full PIGsters will find solace in the fact that this episode turned from enriching to educational. For starters, the robber learned, first hand, why it’s a crappy idea to rob a gun store, when the gun savvy clerk took a close look at the cylinder of the robber’s firearm and saw that it was empty. The robber’s lesson in thievery continued, when the clerk produced a gun of his own from his holster. Don’t you just HATE it when that happens? Stunned, the robber gaped at the gun, noted the ‘I’m going to shoot your loser ass’ look in the clerk’s eye, and made a lifesaving move: he ran like hell, doing his utmost to set a new land speed record for a terrified desperado dumbass. In his rush to get the hell out of there, the would-be robber left his $40 behind, making it a losing endeavor, on numerous levels. Smooth moves, Dillinger. Yer Out of Here! Leap Before You Look He led the usual convoy of police vehicles on a 20 mile chase through Allegheny County and parts of Butler County. Alarmed, when Tommy boy hit speeds as high as 100 mph on I-79, the proper authorities slowed him down by deploying spike strips. The chase phase of this road warrior adventure ended with a bang, when the SUV’s deflated tires made our road warrior smash into a Crannyberry Township police cruiser. Game, set, match? Not exactly. Instead of surrendering, Tommy boy bailed out of his vehicle, then unaware that he was stopped on an overpass, he jumped over the roadside barrier, at which point he ‘discovered’ the 22 foot drop. His Human Gene Pool Improvement Application got tied by red tape, giving Tommy boy time to undergo an operation for neck and back injuries. Eventually, the fickle fates hacked through the red tape, then forcibly evicted Tommy boy from the human gene pool with a heartfelt "application accepted". BZZZT 1 His Human Gene Pool Improvement Volunteer application got sidetracked in the Deselection backlog, giving him time to arrive at a local hospital, before he got that once in a lifetime ‘thrill’, when the Fickle Fates marked his application ‘accepted’. Rumors that his next of kin plan to carve BZZZZT in his tombstone can’t be comfirmed, at press time. BZZZT 2 In Jeff’s case, he got the BZZZT which translates as ‘accepted’ in Fickle Fates lingo, while he was trying to steal copper wire from a transformer bank on the roof of the building. Jeff rolled those Darwinian dice when he double dog dared the 24,000 volts to ‘hit me with your best shot’ and it did. BZZZT, oblivion. Parting shot: Jeff’s departure was accompanied by a bright blue flash which was visible to nearby motorists. Is that what they mean by ‘he went out in a blaze of glory’? It’s enquiring minds time, again, in the FSOP. Amazing Human Tricks Cedar Rapids, Iowa Despite his ride’s immobility, Scott wasn’t ready to part with it. Erupting like Mount St. Helen’s, Scott grabbed a crowbar and put it to good use. I know what you’re thinking, and I had the same thought. We’re both wrong, because, instead of using the crowbar on the cops, a screaming, impressively crazed, started pummeling his car. When Scott’s outburst reached critical mass, the cops bagged, tagged, and dragged him for ‘suspicion of interference with official acts and disorderly conduct’. Later, after chilling out in the local graybar, a much calmer Scott explained that he put his car on blocks for the winter and was unaware that it violated the city’s rules of engagement. If At First You Don’t Succeed The fun started, around 8:30, on a Saturday night, when our young Einstein was playing with his gun. I know what you’re thinking, mind in the gutter Sparky, but this isn’t THAT kind of gun. It’s a 9 mm pistol that he was toying around with, while sprawled on his bed. As fun as that sounds, it gets better. For some damn fool reason, Einstein decided that it would be nifty to tie the firearm to his leg. It was during this process, that young Einstein made his down payment on a HGPI contribution. While he was lashing the gun to his leg, it fulfilled it’s prime function, by firing a bullet through young Einstein’s nuts and into his upper right thigh. That’s right, PIGsters, young Einstein, inadvertently, tried to remove himself from the human gene pool, by shooting himself in the nuts. We the PIGs applaud this valiant effort, and hope to give young Einstein the proper incentive by saying: "If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, again." When Things Go Wrong 1) At 11:45 p.m., with his ski mask disguise askew, Randall entered the Gastonia (North Carolina) stop & rob. 2) After dropping his bag, and stumbling, he finally made it to the clerk, whom he asked for money. 3) He put an exclamation point on his ‘hand over the money’ demand by telling the clerk, Guillermo Troncoso, "I have a gun", then he brandished it, for all the good it did him. Unimpressed, Guillermo replied "I don’t care about the gun." 4) Frustrated, Randall put his gun on the counter, then grabbed the cash register and yanked on it. Guillermo pulled on the cash register’s cord, making our hapless hero fall down, still clutching the cash register. 5) While Randall struggled to regroup, his caper went to crap. First, Guillermo grabbed Randall’s gun. Next, Guillermo picked up his baseball bat and jumped over the counter to beat the snot out of Randall with it. 6) Cutting his losses, Randall fled the scene of his attempted crime, with a bat swinging Guillermo in hot pursuit. Randall managed to get into his car and drive away. Unhappily for Randall, Guillermo left his mark on Randall’s ride, by taking out the car’s rear window with a smash from his baseball bat. Did Randall get away? Yes, and no. Yes: He managed to drive home without any mishaps. No: While taking care of business in Randall’s neighborhood, the Gastonia cops spotted his car, recognized Guillermo’s handiwork, then went to investigate. After noting the smashed window and ski mask, they tracked down a bloody and bruised Randall. Bagged, tagged, and dragged? You bet, and not a moment too soon. What’s On His Criminal Mind? The facts speak for themselves. A Pennsylvania denizen, 29-year-old Richard Johnson, stole a Jeep, then used it to drive to the Bens Creek branch of the First Commonwealth Bank, which he robbed. Two hours later, our hero was bagged, tagged, and dragged to a local Graybar Hotel. We know he couldn’t post the $500,000 bond, so he was sent to cool his heels in Cambria County Prison. There is, however, at least one thing we don’t know. We don’t know why he did it. Admittedly, ‘cash infusion’ is the obvious answer, but there are details I didn’t share: Two days before the bank heist, Richard was in the slammer, awaiting trial on charges of assaulting his girlfriend. One day before the bank heist, a black robe let Richard exit the jail. Question: Why did he rob the bank? Answer 1: He needed some money to buy his girlfriend a ‘Can’t we let bygones be bygones?’ present. Answer 2: He didn’t relish the idea of going up the river on an ‘I assaulted my girlfriend’ conviction, so he decided to move up the criminal food chain, by kicking the charges up to bank robbery. Answer 3: He needed some ‘get the hell out of Dodge’ money. Answer 4: He’s either NUTS, or a complete MORON, perhaps both. Answer 5: ‘The voices’ told him to do it. Whatever Richard’s reason(s) he doesn’t want to discuss it. So be it, but here in the FSOP, we go for option 5: ‘the voices’. An Adventure In Ineptitude In addition to giving the proper authorities a good laugh with his ‘caught on the security tape’ antics, an Aussie desperado served up a criminal ineptitude classic. Since his name isn’t given, we’ll call him Einstein. Step One: Climb onto the roof of a Victoria bakery, then gain entry through a skylight. Step Two: The good news is that you’re finally inside the bakery. The bad news is that you’re trapped inside a locked storeroom. Step Three: Almost immediately, you decided ‘I need to get out of here. It’s a good idea, but you can’t reach the skylight, so you pile up some boxes and try to climb out. They fall down, and so do you, repeatedly. Step Four: You give up on the stack of boxes, then try using the storeroom’s shelves to climb out. They won’t take your weight, and they collapse underneath you. Step Five: You repeat steps three and four, several more times, but all you get for it is an impressive collection of bumps, cuts and bruises. Step Six: You use your cell blight to text and phone for assistance, but nobody shows up. Step Seven: Belatedly, you notice the security camera, and try to cover it up, but it’s much too late, because all you managed to do is give the proper authorities a clear look at your face. Eventually, Einstein escaped the storeroom trap, but his bid for freedom was already doomed. When the proper authorities released the image of his face from the security camera, Einstein turned himself in to the cops. All he got for his efforts are: a shot at YouTube immortality, a burglary charge, and a criminal damage charge. JANUARY 2011
Police Get a Tip This true crime adventure began, when a Flori-DOLT, Samuel "Sammy" Davis, decided to extract some cash out of his domicile. I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not THAT. Since Sammy is only renting the house, a home equity loan is not a viable option. With that avenue closed, Sammy evaluated his options, then found what he needed: his renter’s policy include fire insurance. Unwilling to do the deed himself, Sammy secured the services of a professional firebug named Ismael Ortiz. After the requisite negotiations, the deal was sealed. As soon as Ismael did his job, Sammy could pocket all that lovely insurance money. Game, set, match? Not exactly. Ismael started the fire, then raced for the door, to avoid being consumed by the inferno. He was so eager to leave the scene of his crime that he slammed the door on his finger, lopping off the tip of his latex glove, along with the finger tip that was inside. OUCH! When the proper authorities arrived, after the fire was extinguished, they found Ismael’s missing digit. They also found other evidence, including some items that Sammy hid to prevent them from being destroyed by the fire. Since the firebug had 'fingered' himself, the police tracked down Ismael in short order. They carted him off to a guest suite in the local Graybar Hotel, where he spilled his guts about the insurance fraud. What, you ask, happened to Sammy? The police are asking the same question, because Sammy didn’t hang around to face the music. Adventures In Stupidity Flaming Idiocy After parking his ride in an outpost of civilization, Victoria Parade, Torquay, Scott and his main squeeze headed for a nearby adult beverage emporium. Later, following a generous infusion of adult beverages, Scott and his lady returned to his ride, where they got a nasty surprise. Some roving local council minion - a bailiff - had installed a clamp on his ride, immobilizing it. What to do? What indeed? Step 1: Scott extracted an axe from the car, then used it to try and pummel the clamp into submission, without success. Step 2: Insanely pissed, he decided to set the car on fire, by trying to pull out the fuel pump to get at the gasoline, but he couldn’t get it done. Step 3: He liberated a gas can from the trunk, then poured the contents into the interior of the vehicle. Bad luck! The can was ‘virtually’ empty. Step 4: His girlfriend got tired of begging him to stop, so she wasn’t on hand, when he rolled up some newspaper, lit it off, then tossed it onto the back seat of the car. Step 5: Scott was bagged, tagged, and dragged, into court where he got off much easier than he deserved. Despite Scott’s history of memorable meltdowns, the Blackrobe give him ‘a high level community order’ - 3 years of probation, with a review every 28 days - after telling Scott that he’d was thisclose to ending up in a Brit Graybar hotel. If Scott doesn’t clean up his act, he’ll be in a Graybar suite so fast he’ll probably get whiplash. Fun fact: Scott’s ride wasn’t clamped for a parking infraction. His car was clamped because Scott had racked up more than 20 infractions in it, and never paid the fine for any of them. Life is UnBEARable His escape strategy is, to say the least, ‘inspired’. Step 1: Check himself out of that Arizona Graybar hotel. Step 2: Lose himself in the Yellowstone National Park wilderness. Step 3: Give objective reality the finger, by shooting himself up with a gram of heroin. Step 4: Having rendered himself, more or less defenseless, he waits for a roving bear, preferably a hungry one, to show up and have Tracy Province for dinner. Tracy pulled off step 1, without a hitch, but step 2 didn’t come off as planned. Citing ‘divine intervention’, Tracy abandoned his impressive exit strategy because, among other things, Yellowstone was ‘too cold’. Too cold? I’d go along with that, except for one pesky particular: Tracy’s escape happened last AUGUST which is, the last time I looked, SUMMER in Yellowstone. His backup plan - go visit his family in Indiana - didn’t fare much better, because he was captured, in Wyoming, 10 days after he escaped. If Tracy still wants to be eaten by a bear, I’d like to think that We the People can find a way to get that mission "accomplished". Unsafe At Any Speed From our voluminous ‘never try this at home’ file, PIG News brings you a jaw-dropping example of automotive insanity, from Bellevue (Washington). The key elements include: an empty water bottle; a bucket filled with gasoline; a Ford Econoline van whose engine cowling has been removed; a trio of Great Northwest Nitwits. This adventure reached critical mass, when the Econoline got a hitch in its get-along: it kept stalling. Unable to keep the van running, the first notion - a good one - involved stopping at a gas station for some fuel. Since they didn’t have a gas can, they filled a bucket with two gallons of gasoline. So far, so good, but one problem remained unresolved: getting the gasoline into the van’s engine. What will they do? Step 1: Remove the engine cowling - it’s between the two front seats on an Econoline. Step 2: Fill the water bottle from the bucket of gas. Step 3: Pour the gasoline from the bottle directly into the carburetor. Step 4: Repeat steps 2 & 3 as often as needed to keep the van moving. It all went swimmingly, until the van stalled on a Bellevue byway. That’s things got ‘hot’. With the cowling on the engine removed, and the interior of the van filled with gas fumes, they tried to start the engine again. Did they manage to get the van started? Not exactly. Started? Nope. Exploded? You better believe it, Sparky. Within seconds the van was engulfed in flames. On fire, the two men and their female companion bailed out of the van. As if being on fire wasn’t bad enough, the burning woman fell down, then the van rolled over her leg. One of the men made it to a nearby Chevron station where he tried to douse the flames with a generous application of water. All three of these road warriors ended up in the burn unit of a local hospital. Two have serious burns. The third road warrior got off ‘lightly’ with minor burns. An open bucket of gasoline? Pouring it directly into the carburetor? I think we have a leading contender for ‘moron of the year’, and it’s only January. Buyer Beware The proper authorities call Whalesca Castillo an ‘unlicensed doctor. Whalesca’s financially-challenged clients didn’t seem to give a damn about that devilish detail, when they visited Whalesca’s Bronx apartment for a bargain basement prices boob job. The FSOP is feeling charitable, this week, so we’ll simply call this immigrant from the Dominican Republic a capitalist who cut a few corners on her way to the American Dream. Using silicone, which she received from her native Dominican Republic, Whalesca pumped up her clients’ sweater puppies, then went low tech - crazy glue - to seal up puncture wounds. For some reason, the proper authorities have a problem with ‘unlicensed’ practitioners performing cut rate boob jobs from a Bronx apartment. Instead of giving our heroine some kudos, the NYPD flew in on their killjoy brooms to bag, tag, and drag this American Dreamer to the local graybar. Life is so damn sucky that way. Adventures In Stupidity Self-Extinction Thwarted How badly did Sven beg for Darwinian Deselection? You be the judge: * It’s -31F outside, and that doesn’t count the wind chill. * He’s alone, without any backup, 100 kilometers into his 330 kilometer trek from the city of Ulan Ude to Lake Baikal. * He has frostbite on his feet and hands. It’s so bad that he almost lost several of his fingers. * He’s in a country whose language - Russian - he doesn’t speak. How did he save himself? He didn’t. A local spotted Sven, knew he was doomed, and managed, somehow, to persuade this moron to get into the rescuer’s car. What’s this fool’s damage? An auto mechanic by trade, Sven must have sufficient synaptic function to ‘know better’. Setting aside the ‘dumbass’ implications of ‘cycling enthusiast’, I’m left with one likely reason for this cycling in Siberia in WINTER brain fart: he got suckered into this insanity, because he believed all those Globally Warmed whoppers. That, it seems, qualifies him as a ‘fool’, under Old Ka-Boom’s rules of engagement. Trapped After gaining entry, John tabled the stealing part of his endeavor, while he helped himself to the contents of the homeowner’s liquor cabinet. First he helped himself to a bottle of whiskey. Still thirsty, he helped himself to another bottle of whisky. Needing more, John repeated the process with numerous bottles of gin. Did that get him ready for the business at hand? Not exactly. Roaring drunk, John eventually had a significant synaptic event. He was, he soon realized, trapped inside the house. The doors were secured with tamper proof deadbolts which required a key to unlocked. Furthermore, the doors were too sturdy to yield to brute force. What about that window he used to gain access to the interior of the house? It was a piece of cake, from the outside, while he was sober. But, he was too drunk to get back out using the same window. What to do? After spending 3 days trapped inside the house, he called the cops, begging them to come and liberate him. The proper authorities were delighted to move him from the home he tried to rob to a smaller ‘room’. Ironically, his new room was equally impossible to escape, without assistance from justice system officials. That’s right, John was bagged, tagged, and dragged to a local graybar. There is, however, one final tidbit you need to know. When the responding officer ran a background check on John, he made a PIG-worthy discovery. John had an outstanding arrest warrant, which ensued after John broke into the same home, in April of 2010. And now you really do know, the rest of the story. Going Out With A Bang? "Breaking up is hard to do"? It is for a 37 year old Waseca (Minnesota) dude named Terry Lester, who has major, unresolved, issues with at least 3 of his former girlfriends. Unable to ‘get over it’, and unwilling to move on, Terry decided to exact a unique kind of revenge. The key ingredients in his revenge are: gun powder, BB shot and buck shot liberated from shotgun shells, at least 3 ‘sex toys’ (I’m guessing a battery operated joy toy), one revenge-seeking dude. The plan is a demented one that involved Terry packing the vibrators/dildos with gun powder and shot, then setting the ‘surprise inside’ off, when the designated recipient switched it on and tried to road test it on her nads. Terry had one of his parting gifts ready for prime time (all it needed was a battery), when fate intervened. Fate had help from a landlord who found out that Terry was cohabiting in an apartment occupied by two female tenants. After Terry was evicted, his former roommates found his punch packing joy toy, along with enough powder and shot to rig up the other two joy toys. Suitably alarmed, Terry’s former roommates called the cops. In record time, the cops bagged, tagged, and dragged Terry to the local graybar hotel on a laundry list of charges: felony creation and possession of an explosive or incendiary device and felony terroristic threats. When last seen, Terry was lounging on the old cell block, mulling the 10 years in the slammer and the $20,000 fine hanging over his head. Stupid Human Tricks Chivalry Is A Killer Since the middle of the night is their busiest time of day, the Fickle Fates were on duty to stamp Michael’s HGPI volunteer application "approved". They got it done, when - I am NOT making this up - Michael, who doesn’t know how to swim, jumped into the frigid waters of Lake Michigan to rescue his lady’s water bottle. A man who can’t swim jumps into Lake Michigan’s icy waters to save his girlfriend’s water bottle? Wow! I think we have our first contender for 2011's HGPI volunteer of the year. How ‘Lefty’ Got His Nickname The essential elements of this award winning epic are a small cannon, a 2-inch cannon ball, and a Hoosier artillery afficionado, 50-year-old Michael Eck. The elements gathered for big time fun, in Trafalgar (Indiana), on a Thursday afternoon, for a one-dolt artillery barrage. The festivities went smoothly, for the first 3 or 4 shots, then the cannon gave Michael a whole new perspective on life. It happened, when the cannon fulfilled its prime function, while Michael - henceforth ‘Lefty’ - was loading it. When the cannon smoke cleared ‘Lefty’ had a cannonball size hole in his right hand. See, I told you this story involved a ‘hand job’.
DECEMBER 2010
Flaming Idiocy A Kiwi hormone gorilla thought it was an idea whose time has come. All he needed was a pair of socks on his feet, plus an ignition source. When you combine those elements with a young, eager, adventure seeking 14 year old, you have a recipe for big time fun. According to our lad, he has done this many times before, so, while loitering in the garage of a home belonging to his friend’s parents, our adventurous lad made his move. Like he’d done numerous times, he lit his socks on fire, while wearing them. Once they were blazing nicely - impressing his friends, no doubt - he proceeded to snuff out the flames by stomping his feet on a carpet that was lying in the garage. No harm, no foul? Not exactly. What he didn’t know is the fun fact that the carpet in question was soaked in gasoline from an earlier spill. Faster that a you can say ‘towering inferno’, the carpet is ablaze. Despite the best efforts of our hero and his chums, the fire destroyed the garage. When he faced the forces of justice, the adventurous lad was convicted of arson. Game, set, match? Nope. When it landed in an appellate court, the adventurous lad caught a break, because the black robe turned out to be a softie:
She says "...his intelligence appeared...average"? If that’s average in New Zealand, I don’t even want to know what the dumbasses are doing. It’s An Annoyingly Small World If ‘It’s A Small World After All’ wasn’t Amanda Pyle’s favorite song, before her PIG-worthy adventure, it should be, now. For this Clarksville (Tennessee) denizen, her music appreciation reality check started at a local Kroger store. The lesson began, when Coyama Locklear followed her out of the store, then attacked Amanda from behind. With a significant size advantage - Amanda is 5-6, he’s 6-2 and weighs more than 200 lbs - Coyama should have made short work of the purse snatching. He tried his best - twisting Amanda’s arm up behind her back - to loosen the woman’s grip, but she would have none of it. Instead, she fought him with all her strength, kicking up a ruckus that attracted other customers. Cutting his losses, Coyama beat a hasty retreat, probably glad to see the last of Amanda. See the last of her? Fate had other plans. Round two happened at the Gateway Medical Center, where Amanda came face to face with Coyama who was just leaving the facility with his arm in a sling. Obviously, Amanda left her mark on her assailant. Amanda notified the police, who had no trouble following the breadcrumbs to Coyama, whom they found cowering in a closet of a Clarksville home. After minimal pleasantries, the proper authorities bagged, tagged, and dragged Amanda’s sparring partner to a local graybar. Book ‘em, Billy-Bob. Stupidity On Parade Making An Ass Out of Himself This adventure in stupidity began, when Johnathan and his girlfriend got into a shouting match over a prison sentence that was looming on Johnathan’s near horizon. After the exchange of pleasantries reached a fever pitch, Johnathan demonstrated his career asshole credentials, by pulling a gun and shoving the barrel into his girlfriend’s mouth. Narrowly eluding a murder charge, he removed the weapon from her mouth, then vented his rage by shooting it next to his girlfriend’s ear. At this moment in time, the situation went from ‘wanted for murder’ to ‘a serious pain in my ass’ for Johnathan, when he shoved the weapon into his waistband. Everything was spiffy until, Johnathan’s erratic driving made the weapon fulfill its primary function, sending a bullet into this loser’s ass. Congratulations, Johnathan, from start to finish, you made a complete and utter ass of yourself. His Own Worst Enemy Paul’s one-day crime spree began, when he sauntered into a U.S. Bank, then asked the teller if there was an urgent care clinic nearby. After inquiring about his health, she directed him to the Mills Health Center just down the street. That’s when Paul trotted out his robbery note, which also proclaimed "I’m unarmed". Despite the many deficiencies in his caper, Paul left the bank with $1,330 in cash. A half hour later, he pulled off the same crap at a Chase Bank, which was located several miles from the scene of his first crime. Once again, he asked about a medical care facility in the area. Once again, despite his ineptitude, Paul left with a wad of the bank’s money - $3,230 in cash - in his pocket. Finally up to speed on Paul’s antics, the San Mateo cops played a hunch, by notifying urgent care centers in the area to watch for Paul’s arrival. The ploy worked precisely as planned, allowing the cops to bag, tag, and drag Paul who was in a local urgent care facility, trying to talk the medical professionals into giving him some Oxycontin or Vocodin. When the cops searched Paul, they found his "Dumb ass robbing bank" robbery note. Book ‘em, Dano. Cell Block Cravings Despite the fact that his resume pins a ‘career burglar’ label on him, a Pennsylvania graybar guest, Gregory Dale, is ready, willing, and eager to branch out into Jeffrey Dahmer territory. That’s right, PIGsters, Gregory wants to emulate his idol, Jeffrey Dahmer, by delving into cannibalism. As fun as that sounds, it gets better. A man who knows what he likes, Gregory proclaimed, in a letter from his prison cell, that he’s ready, willing, and eager to kill Messiah Barry then serve him for dinner. He also expressed a willingness to turn Barry’s bride, Michelle Antoinette, into sustenance, too. Predictably, the Secret Service has ‘issues’ with Gregory’s plan to turn Barry and his bride into a main course, so they pressed the relevant charges, in federal court. At press time, Gregory had entered a ‘not guilty’ plea, thus granting himself a forum to make a name for himself. Parting shot: When Gregory sees The One, he gets hungry. Whenever I see The One, or simply hear his voice, it kills my appetite. PIGish Adventures In Stupidity Fabulous Free Store Follies Apparently, the foregoing concept ‘everything in this store is yours for free’ was too complicated for a pair of Canadian Einsteins, because they - I am NOT making this up - broke into The Free Store to STEAL what they could get - without all the drama - for free, during normal operating hours. Unable to wrap their brains around that, they kicked out the front window and broke into the store. In addition to giving off that noxious LOSER stench, the pair is also guilty of bad timing, because the store’s co-owner, Brandon Tyson, showed up during their ‘caper’. When the morons fled the scene of the crime, Brandon gave chase and managed to catch one of them. In record time, one of the dumbest desperados on record was bagged, tagged and dragged to a Canadian graybar hotel. Brandon and his business partner, quite understandably, pronounced their store ‘theft proof’, giving the ‘it’s free for the taking’ nature of their store. Their only mistake is underestimating the uncharted depths of human stupidity. Better Than Bread Crumbs The getaway also started off as planned, including the part where they switched cars. In theory, the proper authorities wouldn’t be looking for their red Nissan Maxima. It should, they predicted, blend into the traffic. That’s all well and good, except for one pesky flaw in their plan: the trail of money which, inexplicably, kept flying out the window. When the cops followed the trail of money and got too close for comfort, the getaway driver lost control of the Nissan and wrecked it. Fleeing on foot, the six desperados were all tracked down, then bagged, tagged, and dragged to the Cherokee County graybar hotel. Parting shot: Am I the only one who didn’t know that the getaway model of the Nissan Maxima doesn’t come outfitted with windows that close? Adventures In Stupidity Giving Stupidity a Bad Name The caper itself went according to plan. While Emma sat in their getaway ride, Brittney strolled into an Oregon credit union, handed her robbery note to a teller, then walked out with $1,370, which wasn’t a bad payoff for a few minutes work. The ensuing escape from the bank and the drive to Brittney Sykes home were also according to plan. Game, set, match? You know better. The first sign of trouble in desperado paradise cropped up, when our heroines found an unknown gizmo tucked away in the stack of bills that the teller handed over without any fuss. Flying into an ‘it’s an exploding dye bomb’ panic, Brittney walled the device, then stomped on it. With it rendered ‘harmless’, one of our heroines had some unexpected synaptic activity. Belatedly, they decided to use the Internet to find out what, exactly, that pesky teller tucked in with their money. The good news was that it wasn’t a dye bomb. The bad news was that it was, in fact, a tracking device. Reverting to ‘holy crap’ mode, Brittney decided they needed to get the hell away from the tattletale technology, so she - I am NOT making this up - ran outside and ditched it, underneath the driver’s side floor mat of her car. The forces of justice, aided and abetted by the signal from the tracking device, made short work of tracking down these Einsteins. After the requisite exchange of pleasantries, the cops bagged, tagged, and dragged our heroines to a local graybar, on federal bank robbery charges. Separation Anxiety By Sunday, he was suffering from separation anxiety, so he headed for the Louisville police impound lot, where he planned to liberate his ride, unofficially. Big, big, fun. Ignoring two "Do Not Enter" signs, Joe started to look for his ride, for all the good it did him. Frustrated, he traded ‘up’, by helping himself to an impounded Hummer which still had a set of keys in it. Home free in an upgraded ride? Not exactly. Flunking the ‘stealth’ part of this adventure, Joe got bagged, tagged, and dragged, after the lot operator spotted our hero trying to leave the lot in the Hummer. A timely closure of the security gate sealed Joe’s fate. Adding one final PIGish element to his adventure, Joe served up a lame excuse when questioned about the Hummer, which he tried to drive off the lot. His "I wanted to use it to find my own ride" excuse sounds good, until you get to the ‘drive it off the lot’ part. Where did you plan to look for your ride, Joe? Cincinnati? Lexington? Nashville? It’s Enquiring minds time again, in the FSOP. Southern Fried Stoners Not exactly a MENSA member, Kyle did his best to arouse suspicion, when he kept pestering the proper authorities about his truck. He was inexplicably, suspiciously, eager to get his hands on his ride, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed. Doing the math, the police concluded that Kyle might resolve his ride-related issues by stealing, destroying, or tampering with it. Curious, and then some, the police put Kyle’s truck in a garage, set up some surveillance on it, then sat back and waited for the fun to start. The four detectives who awaiting Kyle’s return weren’t disappointed, because very early on a Tuesday morning, Kyle and his friend, Jeffrey Phillips, arrived on the scene. After breaking into the garage though a side door, Kyle exposed the truck’s hidden cache of weed, which he had stashed inside one of the side panels. Patient to a fault, the detectives delayed the ‘gotcha’ phase of their stakeout until Kyle and his friend started to leave. That’s when they made the pair of 19 year old Einsteins an offer they couldn’t refuse: guest accommodations at the local graybar hotel on a laundry list of charges. Jeffrey Phillips got the better deal, since all he’s facing is a burglary charge. Our stoner hero, Kyle, reaped what he sowed: burglary, tampering with evidence and possession of a controlled substance with intent to sell or deliver. Normally, this is where I’d unleash some PIGish prose to wrap it all up for you, but not this time. Instead, I’ll let these well chosen words from Bay St. Louis (Mississippi) chief of police, Mike DeNardo, affix the exclamation point on this epic: “They aren’t the smartest people in the world.” Flaming Idiocy The fiery festivities reached ‘ignition’, after a Pittsburgh (Pennsylvania, DUH) woman locked herself out of her home. Unable to defeat the house’s defenses, the woman considered her options. What to do? What indeed. The obvious solution involves ‘calling a locksmith’. Obvious or not, our heroine rejected that option. Another, more drastic, solution would entail breaking a window, to gain entry. That idea was also rejected. Instead, our heroine took a detour onto the road less traveled. How? She torched her home - she set the rear awning on fire - then called 911. When the firefighters arrived to douse the flames, our heroine hit them with her ‘oh by the way’, when she asked them to unlock the house for her. Did her scheme work? Yes, and no. No: They didn’t unlock the house, then let bygones be bygones. Yes: Our heroine did get a roof over her head, after the firemen called the cops who promptly bagged, tagged, and dragged her to the local graybar, on arson charges. Nice try, but no cigar, darlin’.
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©
Copyright 1993-2012 PIG - The Politically Incorrect Gazette
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Our hero - we'll call him Swifty - is a Peach State desperado who, despite the worlds DUMBEST disguise, managed to pull off his bank heist. |
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