One word too many - again

Here's the situation I find myself in tonight. I can't keep my eyes open.

Yet, being the determined professional blogger I am, I don't want to disappoint my audience of 9 and let them go an entire day without a post.

So I won't. It's just not going to be a good one. It's going to be a lazy one (so lazy I didn't add the Baby Driver poster to it - you'll see what I mean in a second).

It's not even a lot of writing, which is good because those sheep won't wait to be counted much longer. Instead it's just a silly little visual gag. The good news is it'll only take less than a minute to read it. The better news is that I didn't have to write it.

I'm going to bed now. Please to enjoy.

Is it just me, or does anyone else see a pattern here?

Take a beat

As yet another unintended consequence of technology taking over our lives, there's now a new experience for every driver on the road to look forward to.

The beat.

That moment, seemingly frozen in time, when the asshat in front of you is so deeply involved in their texting that they don't realize the light's turned green.

Whenever it happens - and it happens on a daily basis - the ball's in your court. Do you sit on the horn the second the light changes? What's the new etiquette? How long should you wait before letting them know you'd like to get where you're going before Social Security kicks in?

I think the right answer is only as long as it takes to realize what they're doing. On the horn-honking equivalency chart, texting equals fifty putting-your-make up ons, twenty-five changing the radio stations, fifteen eating in the cars and thirty-seven reading somethings.

Texting is by far the most egregious offense. So honk away Merrill (Signs movie reference. Now you know).

This isn't the first time I've posted about texting and driving. That was here. And it probably won't be the last. But it never ceases to amaze me how oblivious drivers can be. In the military, awareness of the environment around you is called situational awareness. When someone's texting at a red light, it isn't called anything because it doesn't exist.

Of course, just as icing on the texting cake, once they realize the light is green thanks to your horn rightfully blaring at them, they usually give you a hearty and friendly wave as their way of saying "thanks conscientious driver behind me for bringing to my attention the fact I was being selfish and rude by texting and thereby being inconsiderate of every other driver's time, also possibly endangering them by my lack of attention to the road. I'll try to do better."

Nah, I'm just funnin' ya. They usually return the favor with a one-finger salute, or by speeding away as if it'll reverse the time space continuum and make up for the extra time you had to sit at the light.

Which is ridiculous, because only Superman can reverse time by flying counter clockwise around the Earth. True fact. Look it up.

If you feel you have to text while behind the wheel, just don't.

Remember, beat is just three letters away from beating.

Gunning it

It's been a very long time since I've gotten a speeding ticket. So I imagine the one I got this morning was not just for today's violation, but was in fact kharma for all the times in the past few years I've driven undetected just a tad higher than the speed limit allows.

I used to, well, like isn't the right word, not mind getting speeding tickets. Believe it or not, back in the days before the interwebs you actually had to go in person and spend a day in traffic school to get the ticket wiped off your record so your insurance wouldn't go up. That was the good news. The bad news is you were only allowed to do it once every 18 months.

There were many differently themed traffic schools to choose from. The reason I didn't mind so much is I always chose the Comedians Traffic School. It was taught by working stand-ups, so that made it a lot more bearable. Also it was usually held at the Improv or the Comedy Store - both former haunts of mine (remind me to tell you about the time I got up on open mic night at the Comedy Store in another post).

The other thing is it always gave me a chance to use my favorite traffic school joke.

Inevitably the instructor would say, "How many of you are here for speeding?" And I'd reply, "All of us who got here first." Alright, so it's not the best joke. These classes start early. Let's see how funny you are at 8 a.m. on a Sunday.

Anyway, here's the other thing about this morning's ticket: it wasn't my fault.

Wipe that smile off your face.

I'll have you know that both my wife and I suffer from a common affliction found in California that affects many drivers. It's supposedly a hereditary condition. We just pray to God we haven't passed it on to our children.

Car manufacturers alone hold the cure. They could make the right pedal much harder to push down. But they don't. In the same way the pharma companies are in bed with the doctors, the car companies are rolling in dough laughing with their insurance company pals.

At least that's what I tell myself. What else could it be?

The embarrassing thing about it is I wasn't even trying that hard. Apparently when it comes to getting speeding tickets, I'm just as much of an underachiever as I am in other areas.

As you can see, one of those areas is in Photoshop, trying to retouch identifiable personal information off the ticket so I could post it here.

But I digress.

The point is I was only going 51 in a 35. And since no one's under oath here - yet - the truth is I take that stretch of road much faster than 51 almost all the time. I guess all that means is I probably deserved it.

Although, again, not my fault. I have that condition.

I will say that the officer who gave me the ticket was very nice and professional about it. Not that I expected otherwise, but, you know, sometimes traffic cops are like a box of chocolates.

So I'll pay the fine, I'll go to online traffic school, and I'll be a good citizen and make a conscious effort to slow down when I'm behind the wheel and drive much more carefully overall.

At least until I'm eligible for traffic school again.