Tuesday January 29, 2019

6:15 pm

Q&A: This is probably one of my favorites of all time, “Simon, is there something you can do to eliminate telemarketers?” I tell you what, if I could eliminate them, I would be the richest man on the planet. How much would you pay to stop the madness? I am working on a couple of really nasty viruses now and will have to test them first so I guess I will open the back door to the Sprint servers I left when they were so gracious to offer a donation to one of the victims of our guests. The Rage never forgets and he certainly doesn’t understand the concept of forgiveness, so it’s probably best to use a different carrier for your cellular service…. if you aren’t stuck in their contract.

Talking about Sprint puts me in a bad mood so you know what happened don’t you, I met George today. I was out running errands, minding my own business. We had just wrapped up a difficult gig and I was enjoying a little downtime. Again, I refer to Nickelback’s wisdom when they said, “Something’s gotta go wrong cause I’m feelin way too damn good.” Prophetic!

I’m on the main drag going through this particular town, 3 lanes of traffic going in my direction, 45 mph zone, when traffic comes to a crawling stop. Slow traffic at that time of the day was normal, but this was almost stopped. The Rage poked his head up to see what was going on and that is never a good thing, if you are the one causing the delay. It took 26 ½ minutes to get to the cause of the stoppage, some douchebag in a Honda got tapped from behind and was stopped dead in the center lane, refusing to move his vehicle out of traffic. That behavior, by itself, would almost certainly grant you a reservation at the farm, but George just didn’t want to just leave bad enough alone.  Nope, he wanted to make an application for permanent residency. Problem is, the only permanent residents make their way through the incinerator before being granted that status. We’ll explain all this to George in due time, for now, this is what got his application fast tracked.

We finally got up beside the G man and rolled down the window and said, “Excuse me sir, as the many signs along the way clearly state, “In Case of Fender Benders, Remove Your Vehicle from the Roadway.” Your car is clearly driveable and you are stopping everyone on the roadway when you could pull off the road to conduct your business.” I even smiled. I don’t want to offend anyone so I will simply tell you that his response was not something that momma Rage would have approved of. If that wasn’t bad enough, he exercised even more bad judgement and gave us the one finger salute. He’s probably not going to like where the offending digit ends up.

I did something I had never done before, I picked up the cell phone that I had reluctantly started carrying and took a photo of George. I also got a nice shot of his license plate. We’ll be in touch G man, and when the Rage touches, there is no doubt he was there.

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