glass disaster
so.
sunday afternoon. overcast, not muggy. got fitted for a tuxedo so i can be in yet another wedding, this one in november. pick up my dog to take her to the park and then to a friend's house, hit the highway between trussville and birmingham. i notice a cop on the side of the onramp but my mind is on park time with texas and starting my new job a few hours later. the cop follows me.
pulled over, i receive two tickets: one for an expired tag and one for no proof of insurance. i have racked my brain in the days since this incident and still can't come up with one, just one, other business which the state requires i have transactions with just so i can legally drive. or do anything else, for that matter. if this doesn't smack of state-sponsored racketeering then i don't know what does. anyway, the cop holds my license as he writes out the tickets and won't hand it back until i sign them. he's seen the dates on the card; he knows what he's doing. he smirks and asks a couple of inane questions as i scrawl my name on pieces of paper i never wanted or intended to see (and yes, i know that i can't blame anyone but me for getting pulled over) and i literally bite my tongue until it bleeds: the court date mandated by the tickets is 26 september. that's right, kids. i get to spend the evening of my birthday in fucking traffic court. i am so incredibly goddamned happy about this that i don't even know what to do with myself. i mean, there's playing ... but that won't pay this crap off. however, a big bag of money will, so if you happen to have one lying around that you want to give away, i will totally take it. i'll even name something in your honor. as long as you're cool with a favorite yet no-longer-wearable pair of chuck taylors bearing your name for all time, we should be gravy.
i look forward to our potential business ventures. also i look forward to listening to the ventures.
a man, a plan, a canal, panama,
i remain,
scientist.
sunday afternoon. overcast, not muggy. got fitted for a tuxedo so i can be in yet another wedding, this one in november. pick up my dog to take her to the park and then to a friend's house, hit the highway between trussville and birmingham. i notice a cop on the side of the onramp but my mind is on park time with texas and starting my new job a few hours later. the cop follows me.
pulled over, i receive two tickets: one for an expired tag and one for no proof of insurance. i have racked my brain in the days since this incident and still can't come up with one, just one, other business which the state requires i have transactions with just so i can legally drive. or do anything else, for that matter. if this doesn't smack of state-sponsored racketeering then i don't know what does. anyway, the cop holds my license as he writes out the tickets and won't hand it back until i sign them. he's seen the dates on the card; he knows what he's doing. he smirks and asks a couple of inane questions as i scrawl my name on pieces of paper i never wanted or intended to see (and yes, i know that i can't blame anyone but me for getting pulled over) and i literally bite my tongue until it bleeds: the court date mandated by the tickets is 26 september. that's right, kids. i get to spend the evening of my birthday in fucking traffic court. i am so incredibly goddamned happy about this that i don't even know what to do with myself. i mean, there's playing ... but that won't pay this crap off. however, a big bag of money will, so if you happen to have one lying around that you want to give away, i will totally take it. i'll even name something in your honor. as long as you're cool with a favorite yet no-longer-wearable pair of chuck taylors bearing your name for all time, we should be gravy.
i look forward to our potential business ventures. also i look forward to listening to the ventures.
a man, a plan, a canal, panama,
i remain,
scientist.