Witty One-liner Wednesday – Some More Sayings Of The Late George Carlin

“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”


This Wednesday I am pleased to present part two of my trio of tributes to the late George Carlin and his great gift for seeing the world from the humorous side.

It turns out from the reaction to last week’s post that George still has a lot of fans out there which is great news.

Enjoy this latest selection.



If it requires a uniform, it’s a worthless endeavor.


As soon as someone is identified as an unsung hero, he no longer is.


If a movie is described as a romantic comedy, you can usually find me next door playing pinball.


The IQ and the life expectancy of the average American recently passed each other in opposite directions.


I knew a transsexual guy whose only ambition is to eat, drink, and be Mary.


I put a dollar in a change machine. Nothing changed.


If you’ve got a cat and a leg, you’ve got a happy cat. If you’ve got a cat and two legs, you’ve got a party.


By and large, language is a tool for concealing the truth.


Isn’t it a bit unnerving that doctors call what they do “practice”?


Here’s a bumper sticker I’d like to see: “We are the proud parents of a child who’s self-esteem is sufficient that he doesn’t need us promoting his minor scholastic achievements on the back of our car.”


I’ve never seen a homeless guy with a bottle of Gatorade.


One great thing about getting old is that you can get out of all sorts of social obligations just by saying you’re too tired.


If Helen Keller had psychic ability, would you say she had a fourth sense?


In America, anyone can become president. That’s the problem.


“One thing leads to another”? Not always. Sometimes one thing leads to the same thing. Ask an addict.


Property is theft. Nobody “owns” anything. When you die, it all stays here.


The future will soon be a thing of the past.


Bowling is not a sport because you have to rent the shoes.


Atheism is a non-prophet organization.




Inflate Your Tires By All Means, But Then Hide Your Bicycle Pump Where It Cannot Tempt You!

“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”


Yesterday’s post was about how a few idiots had met their demise, or failed to, when they attempted to kill themselves. Today the theme is continued with another curious case, but one of the accidental variety.

I must say this was a new one to me. Just when you think you’ve heard of everything something new and unexpected turns up. This time it turned up in Thailand.

Danger: Compressed Air
Danger: Compressed Air

“The government must crack down on this disgusting craze of ‘Pumping'”, a spokesman for the Nakhon Ratchasima hospital told reporters. “If this perversion catches on, it will destroy the cream of Thailand’s manhood.”

He was speaking after the remains of 13 year-old Charnchai Puanmuangpak had been rushed into the hospital’s emergency room.

“Most ‘Pumpers’ use a standard bicycle pump,” he explained, “inserting the nozzle far up their rectum, giving themselves a rush of air, creating a momentary high. This act is a sin against God.”

It appears that the young Charnchai took it further still.

He started using a two-cylinder foot pump, but even that wasn’t exciting enough for him, so he boasted to friends that he was going to try the compressed air hose at a nearby gasoline station.

They dared him to do it, so, under cover of darkness, he snuck in.

Not realizing how powerful the machine was, he inserted the tube deep into his rectum, and placed a coin in the slot (of the machine, I think).

As a result, he died virtually instantly, leaving passers-by still in shock.

One woman thought she was watching a twilight fireworks display, and started clapping.

“We still haven’t located all of him”, say the police authorities. “When that quantity of air interacted with the gas in his system, he nearly exploded. It was like an atom bomb went off or something.”

“Pumping is the devil’s pastime, and we must all say no to Satan,” Ratchasima concluded. “Inflate your tires by all means, but then hide your bicycle pump where it cannot tempt you.”


Sometimes Being Frank Can Lead To Trouble

“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”


On 1st April 2001, in New York, a literary agent, named Frank, found himself dazed and patting out flames shortly after arriving at a two-alarm house fire equipped with a sandwich, a bullhorn, whiskey and a lawnchair.


The trouble started when Frank climbed on to the roof of a nearby house, perched on his lawnchair, and proceeded to lecture the startled emergency crew while enjoying his drink.

Three firemen had just finished clearing the house, locating the residents’ young golden retriever in the process, when they heard Frank’s imperious command.

“Drop the dog and open the hydrant this instant!”

They turned in surprise and in fact did drop the unfortunate yelping puppy, which fell through the burning timbers and burst into flames.

Outraged onlookers then mobbed the base of heckler Frank’s house and threw cans and shrubbery at the obstreperous critic, who batted the projectiles aside with his bullhorn while continuing to drink whiskey and issue commands, including…

“The north side is engaged!”

“Position the hose along the azalea bushes!”

“Stop picking your nose!”

Sorely provoked, the senior fireman, currently on administrative leave, picked up the dead (but still burning) dog and flung it onto the roof where Frank was barking out his commands.


The flaming animal landed in Frank’s lap, igniting his spilled whiskey and severely burning his man-part area.

Frank heaved the dog off himself, but neglected to brace his feet on the slanted roof. He and the lawnchair toppled and fell from the house, miraculously avoiding onlookers, who watched aghast while the prostrate man suffered further injuries from falling embers and his own roof-top accoutrements.

man falling

The house fire was eventually subdued, and paramedics transported the injured man and his loudspeaker to the hospital. Although he is recovering from his injuries, the prognosis is that he will never again be able to procreate with quite the same gusto, which is probably a blessing for the rest of humanity.

Neighbors have set up a Memorial Fund for the golden retriever. Apparently photographs of the man-shaped depression in the lawn are available upon request.

Sometimes being frank can lead to trouble!





America, My Friends, Is Fast Becoming The Land Of The Stepford Grin

“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”


People nowadays have an obsession with teeth, particularly so in America where the whole thing has gotten completely ridiculous. The only people benefiting are the dentists, or orthodontists as the braces branch like to call themselves, who are making an absolute fortune on the vanity of others.

There’s the usual drilling and filling too, but the main work nowadays is straightening and whitening and so forth. Nearly every unfortunate kid has to undergo months of a hideous looking steel grid in their gobs otherwise they think that they will stand out from their friends, and of course individuality is out of the question, conformity is king!

Poor kid with steel grid in gob
Poor kid with steel grid in gob


Their beleaguered parents, who seem to have lost the ability to say “no” to their children, go along with it and hand over their wallets like it’s the normal thing to do.

America, my friends, is fast becoming the land of the Stepford grin and nobody seems to find it at all the least bit odd. And just like baseball caps, the fashion is spreading throughout the world.

The Stepford Grin
The Stepford Grin


But it wasn’t always this way. A few decades ago dentistry was, let’s say, a lot more primitive. There was still the drilling and filling bit and in a pre-fluoride environment there were more cavities than there were people. There were also a lot of teeth that, whilst they could be easily saved and repaired today, in those days had to be extracted. Therefore many people ended up requiring dentures.




John was a case in point. He got to the stage where all his teeth were gone and his dentist was taking moulds and measuring him up for a new set of dentures.

After spending some time toothless, which made eating some of his favorite foods difficult and frustrating, John was anxious to get his new teeth. The day arrived and off he went to the dentist who fitted them and adjusted them.

All seemed to go well. They felt like a bit of a mouthful but John put that down to the fact that they were new and probably needed a few hours to bed down properly in his mouth. He was happy enough.

Until he got home that is.

His daughter met him at the door and immediately let out a loud shriek and fell on to the floor laughing uncontrollably.

Then his wife walked in.

“Oh my good God, John” she exclaimed, “Whatever have they done to you?” And with that she too started to laugh.

John protested vigorously. He tried to ask them what was wrong, why was everyone laughing. But he hadn’t gotten used to the teeth in his mouth and he sounded as if he had a mouthful of pebbles. Naturally this made the others laugh all the harder.

He went into an adjoining room where there was a mirror.

“Fos hate, way awen’t wat bad,” he protested from the other room.

But the more he talked with his mouthful of teeth the more they laughed and the more they laughed the more irritated he became.  After a while they got themselves calmed down and decided they would review the situation in the morning.

The next morning John’s wife was first up as usual. She went downstairs to prepare breakfast for the family while he washed, shaved and got dressed. When the breakfast was ready she shouted on the others and they all assembled at the kitchen table.

For a few minutes all went peacefully, everybody keeping their heads down and studying their eggs and bacon intently. But curiosity eventually got the better of them. First John’s daughter looked up. She couldn’t control herself and immediately returned her concentration to the scrambled egg on her plate, but shaking noticeably with more laughter.

Then John’s wife looked across the table at him. Again she burst out into fits of laughter.

“It was like sitting there looking at a horse smiling at you across the breakfast table,” she would tell me later when recounting the story.

John's Horsey Smile
John’s Horsey Smile


This time it was all too much for John. He angrily stomped off to the garage and set to work on his new teeth with an electric grinding stone.

But it was a lost cause. All he did was grind away a good part of the teeth, which obviously did make them smaller, but now he was left with more gum than teeth. If anything, this looked even funnier than the original, as his wife and daughter confirmed by again falling about the place in more fits of laughter.

After that those teeth, or what was left of them, were never seen again.

The next time John would go to another dentist, one who made teeth for people and not horses.



The Curious Case Of The Coroner’s Conundrum

“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”


In 1994, at the annual awards dinner given by the American Association for Forensic Science, their then president, Don Harper Mills, astounded his audience in San Diego with the legal complications of a bizarre death.

Needless to say it featured an idiot, in fact several idiots, which is why it is being recounted on the fasab blog.

This is the unlikely story.


On 23 March 1994, the medical examiner viewed the body of Ronald Opus and concluded that he died from a shotgun wound to the head.

The deceased had jumped from the top of a ten-story building intending to commit suicide. He had left behind a note indicating his depression.

As he fell past the ninth floor, his attempt to kill himself was interrupted by a shotgun blast through a window, which killed him instantly.

Neither the shooter nor the jumper were aware that a safety net had been erected at the eighth floor level to protect some window washers and that Opus would not have been able to complete his suicide because of this.

Ordinarily, if a person sets out with the intention of killing himself and ultimately succeeds, even though the mechanism might not be what he originally intended, the death would be deemed a suicide.

Thus, in normal circumstances, the fact that Opus was shot on the way to certain death nine stories below probably would not have changed his mode of death from suicide to homicide.

However, in this case, the fact that his suicidal intent would not have been successful, because of the safety nets, caused the medical examiner to feel that he had a homicide on his hands.

The room on the ninth floor where the shotgun blast emanated was occupied by and elderly man and his wife. They were arguing and he was threatening her with the shotgun. But he was so upset that when he pulled trigger he completely missed his wife and the shotgun pellets went through window striking Opus as he fell and killing him.

The Coroner held that, “When one intends to kill subject A, but kills subject B in the attempt, one is guilty of the murder of subject B.”

However, when confronted with this charge, the old man and his wife were both adamant that neither knew that the shotgun was loaded.

The old man said it was his long standing habit to threaten his wife with the unloaded shotgun. He had no intention to murder her – therefore, the killing of Opus appeared to be an accident in that the gun had been accidentally loaded by someone else.

The continuing investigation turned up a witness who saw the old couple’s son loading the shotgun approximately six weeks prior to the fatal incident. It transpired that the old lady had cut off her son’s financial support and the son, knowing the propensity of his father to use the shotgun threateningly, loaded the gun with the expectation that his father would shoot his mother.

The case now became one of murder on the part of the son for the death of Ronald Opus.


But even that would not be enough to feature in this blog.

Further investigation revealed that the son, was none other than one Ronald Opus, who had become increasingly despondent over the failure of his attempt to engineer his mother’s murder.

This had led him to jump off the ten story building on March 23, only to be killed by a blast from the shotgun he had loaded himself some six weeks previously as he fell past the ninth story window of his parents’ apartment.


The medical examiner closed the case as a suicide.



People Hardly Ever Look Up – Sometimes They Should

“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”


People hardly ever look up. I don’t know why that is, but they hardly ever do.

Maybe it’s because it is a slightly unnatural act having to crank your neck backwards, or the fact that if you do it too far your mouth involuntarily opens. Unless there is an unusual noise or something to catch their attention most people wander through life just looking from ground level to about six to eight feet high.

But mouth open or closed, sometimes it is a good idea to have a look at what’s going on a bit higher up.

Anthony, or Tony as he liked to be called, is a good example of this. Tony was the biggest businessman I had ever come into contact with. I don’t mean he was a Bill Gates, or a Warren Buffet or even a Larry Ellison in that he had amassed a vast fortune of billions of dollars, or that he ran a huge company. I am simply referring to his physical, not his business, stature.

Tony was a good six feet six in height, and about four feet wide. He was a giant of a man. Very amiable and softly spoken, but you just knew he wasn’t the type of person to pick a fight with and I don’t think anyone ever did.

I was not personally involved in the trip I am about to tell you about, thank goodness, but a couple of friends of mine were and they related the story (many times!). It’s going back a few years now but there was a time when lots of companies were visiting the Middle East to try to secure contracts from the oil rich Arab nations who were using part of their great wealth to develop the infrastructures of their nations.

Part of these business trips more often than not involved a substantial meal provided by the local hosts, with some offerings less suited to the western palette and others absolutely delicious. Most people had the sense to pick and choose which was the sensible thing to do. But Tony’s appetite for food was as big as he was.

Whilst the others showed restraint, Tony tore into everything on the table, much to the delight of their hosts. He ate and he better ate and when almost everything was gone he pronounced himself “full”. After that he and the other two visiting businessmen handed over their proposals to their hosts and a follow-up business meeting was arranged for the following afternoon.

The next morning they were up bright and early and met for breakfast, two ordinary ones and a super-sized one for Tony. They chatted for a while and then went off to their rooms to rehearse their pitches for the afternoon meeting.

Later, when they all assembled in the hotel foyer for the short taxi ride to the office where their meeting was scheduled Tony was the last to arrive. He didn’t look at all well.

“You’re a bad color,” said one of the others. “Are you feeling okay?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Tony protested. “Tummy’s a bit jippy, that’s all. Let’s go and get this done.”

And off they all went, one of them in the front seat of the taxi and Tony and the other guy in the rear.

When they arrived at the company offices they were ushered up to the fourth floor and into a reception/waiting area that consisted of a few of chairs, two large couches and, on the other side of the room, a receptionist’s desk behind which sat two girls, one greeting visitors and the other operating the telephones. The room was about 30 feet by 20 feet, with very high ceilings. Off to the left, behind partition walls were what seemed to be more offices.

By this time Tony’s color had not improved at all. In fact it was getting worse. He was shaking his head from side to side and at the same time rubbing his ample belly with his right hand. A few muffled gurgles and rumbles could be heard by the others sitting close to him.

“Guys, I don’t feel so well,“ he finally admitted, obviously now in considerable discomfort. “Excuse me while I go to the bathroom.”

And up he got, inquired from the girls behind the counter where the bathrooms were situated, and off he went. They were on the other side of the foyer from the offices and he quickly made his way in that direction.

When I described the other offices as being behind partition walls I neglected to say that these walls did not go right up to full ceiling height. They stopped about two feet below that. Unfortunately the bathrooms were located behind a similar partition wall. This meant that anything that was going on in there above a certain level of decibels was clearly audible to anyone in the reception area.

The first noises to emerge through the gap between wall and ceiling was a series of groans and grunts. Then some expletives best not repeated here. This was closely followed by several thunderous explosions.

“Incoming!” warned one of the guys in the reception area, highly amused by it all. “Take cover!”

“Watch out for the shrapnel,” added the other as the bombardment continued.

It didn’t last that long really, but it seemed to go on forever. The whole crescendo ended with a clearly audible “Oh **** me, what a relief,” from Tony.

The two girls at the reception desk were clearly embarrassed at this unusual behavior, but they saw the funny side of it too and giggled quietly. The other two guys in the reception area weren’t so timid. They were enjoying the whole show and laughing quite openly.

“Best pitch rehearsal I’ve heard from him,” quipped one.

“I always said he was full of crap,” said the other.

“Not any more!” returned the first.

And on it went.

Then Tony walked back into the reception area. He was looking, not quite triumphant, but definitely pleased that he was now feeling a lot better. He was completely unaware that his predicament had been heard by all and sundry.

“Have they spoken to you yet?” he inquired. “What’s the running order?”

“I’m on first,” said one of the guys. “You’re number two.”

The other one sniggered.

Tony was not getting the joke at all, but he knew he was missing something.

“Okay,” he said to the others. “What’s the joke, what’s going on?”

“Look behind you,” one of them said, indicating the partition wall between the reception area and the bathrooms.

Tony did. “I don’t see what you mean, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Look up a bit,” the other guy said.

Tony looked up. At first he didn’t see anything out of place. Then after a few minutes of looking round the room the penny dropped. He was clearly embarrassed.

“You mean you could hear..” he started to ask.

“EVERYTHING,” the other two said in unison.

”Shit!” exclaimed Tony.

“And lots of it by the sound of things,” said one of the others.

After that Tony always looked up now and again.

I don’t know how the meetings went.



Collisions, Crashes, And Calamities.

“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”


We’ve touched on this subject before but there are far, far too many idiots allowed to be put in charge of motor vehicles. Inevitably these morons at one time or more end up crashing, sometimes it is a solo effort, at other times they take some other unfortunate with them.


However it happens, the inevitable result as well as the police becoming involved is that the insurance companies are quickly brought on board to fight the cases.


Here are a few descriptions given by some intellectually challenged drivers to their insurance companies trying to explain the mayhem that they had caused.


Poor doggie. You’ll see what I mean.




Coming home I drove into the wrong house and collided with a tree I don’t have.




I told the police that I was not injured, but on removing my hat found that I had a fractured skull.




I pulled away from the side of the road, glanced at my mother-in-law and headed over the embankment.




I thought my window was down, but I found it was up when I put my head through it.




As I approached an intersection a sign suddenly appeared in a place where no stop sign had ever appeared before. I was unable to stop in time to avoid the accident.




In an attempt to kill a fly, I drove into a telephone pole.




I saw two kangaroos having it off in the middle of the road. So I hit them, which caused me to ejaculate through the sunroof.




I was thrown from my car as it left the road. I was later found in a ditch by some stray cows.




The telephone pole was approaching. I was attempting to swerve out of the way when I struck the front end.




I pulled in to the side of the road because there was smoke coming from under the hood. I realized there was a fire in the engine, so I took my dog and smothered it with a blanket.


On The Oul Timers’ Ward

“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”


“I’ll never forget what’s his name,” is something I have a habit of saying. I’ve always had a good memory and recall for most things, particularly numbers, but sometimes I’m terrible with names. I can be trying to hold a sensible conversation with someone, usually someone who I haven’t seen for a long time, and while I know their face perfectly, can I remember the name! It makes for awkward times and sometimes amusing ones as well.

I hope it doesn’t get any worse as I get older! I’d hate to end my days with “oul timers” as we call it in our family, my aunt having been so afflicted for a few years before her passing.

But like all adversities there are the funny sides.

Here’s a report from an old issue of the Southland Times in New Zealand that I thought was amusing.


The police were called to the Whangarei ward at the Aged Care Centre in Kaikohe, New Zealand, because a fight had broken out.

When they arrived, they could see that the two elderly protagonists had been involved in a mighty punch-up. Both were covered in blood, their clothes were torn, one had a broken nose and half his hair ripped out, and the other had a broken arm and a hypodermic needle stuck in his penis.

Furniture and equipment had been smashed flat, beds had been overturned, and the other patients on the ward were terrified.

When the matter came to court, Police Sergeant Maurice Loveridge reported as follows:

“…. the fight took place in a ward full of elderly Alzheimer’s patients, and it has gradually become clear that nobody can remember what happened, or who was responsible.

One patient keeps repeating the phrase ‘we ought to have more manure’, but frankly this gives us no clue.

The two accused men do not recognise each other, nor do the other patients, and the ones who initially reported the incident to us had forgotten that there even was a fight by the time we tried to question them.

Therefore, because nobody can now recall the incident, the Police Prosecution Department has reluctantly decided to withdraw the case against both men.”


These aren’t the same old boys as in the New Zealand fracas, but they’re the best I could come up with. They made me laugh.


Little Dumb And Large Dumber

“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”

Are there some people who are too dumb to live?

It’s an interesting, if not much asked, question.

Certainly people do get killed in unusual ways. Of course that is not always their fault. Sometimes they are the victims of circumstances beyond their control. No one can plan for the drunken idiot who slams his car into another. Nor should we live our lives in fear of such things. Take as much care as necessary without impacting on your own life and enjoyment is the best we can do. And usually that is more than enough to get us by.

Back to the initial question.

I think there is a lot of evidence to show that there are indeed some people who are just too dumb to live. There’s a thing called the Darwin Awards that every year highlights some of the people who have, as they put it, strengthened the gene pool by doing away with themselves under the stupidest of circumstances. Some of them are very amusing indeed and I hope to feature other examples in this blog from time to time.

This one is about two people meeting their end in a peculiar, and for the rest of us, funny way.

It happened in the little town (called a city) of George, in Grant County, Washington. As well as being a play on the President’s name, George, Washington, with a population of little over 500, is famous for the similarly sounding Gorge Amphitheatre. This is a 20,000+ seat concert venue located above the Columbia River, that offers lawn-terrace seating and “concert friendly weather”.

Actually it is considered to be one of the premier and most scenic concert locations in the US, and some say even the world. It has been the host to artists such as The Who, David Bowie, Coldplay, and Pearl Jam, the latter even releasing a box set album featuring their entire performances from 2005 and 2006.

However the group that caused the trouble for the two intrepid zeros who are the subject of today’s blog post was Metallica. When they were playing at The Gorge, Robert Uhlenake (24) and his friend, Ormond D. Young (27) decided they wanted to go along.

However, unable to get any tickets for the sold out gig the two instead decided to stay in a nearby parking lot and drink. By the time the show had started they had made their way through eighteen beers.

That was when they did something that stupid people, especially drunk stupid people, should never do.

Yes, they hit upon an idea.

And that idea was to scale the seven foot wooden security fence around the perimeter of the site and sneak in. The rest of the plan involved moving their truck up to the edge of the fence, get on top of it and simply jump over the fence.

So far, so good.

Then they decided that Young would go over first and assist Uhlenake later.

Again, so far, so good.

But what they had not figured into their plan was that, while the fence was seven feet high on the parking lot side, there was a twenty-three foot drop on the other side.

Young, who weighed around 255 lbs and was quite inebriated, jumped up and over the fence and promptly fell about half the twenty-three foot distance before a large tree branch broke his fall AND his left forearm.

Not content with that he also managed to get his shorts caught on the branch.

There’s a kind of a rule in life, I don’t know whose it is (it’s not Murphy’s, maybe I’ll claim it for fasab if no one else has it), that when things start to go wrong they have a tendency to keep on going from bad to worse. So it was for young Mr Young.

He was now in a lot of pain and his broken arm made it impossible for him to extricate himself and his shorts from the tree in the normal manner. But hanging there and looking at the bushes down below, he thought the thing to do was to cut his shorts off and fall to the ground. The soft bushes would cushion the impact of his fall.

This he did and when he cut the last bit of fabric from himself, he suddenly plummeted to earth.

As he did so he also lost his grip of the knife.

The “soft” bushes that Young had cleverly spotted from fifteen foot up in the air hanging from the branch were actually holly bushes and landing in them caused a massive number of cuts, and jags.

All that would have been bad enough for a mere mortal but Young wasn’t done yet.

He also had the misfortune of landing squarely on a holly bush branch; effectively impaling himself.

Then the knife, which he had accidentally released fifteen foot above where he landed, now joined him stabbing him in his left thigh.

Apparently, he was in a lot of pain.

Enter his friend Robert to the rescue.

Robert Uhlenake had apparently observed the last bit of this fiasco and, despite his inebriated state, had the awareness to realized that his fiend Young was in trouble.

Then he also did that thing that stupid drunk people should never do.

He hit upon the idea too, this time of lowering a rope to his friend and pulling him up and over the fence.

The problem with this plan was that Uhlenake was outweighed by his friend by a good 100 lbs. But undaunted by this he was still determined on a rescue bid and figured he could use their truck to pull his friend Young back up.

Unfortunately, because of his state, Uhlenake put the truck in reverse, rather than drive, broke through the fence, landed on Young (killing him), and subsequently died of internal injuries himself.

The two were found dead at the Gorge Amphitheater after the show. Uhlenake was in the pickup that was on top of Young at the bottom of a 20 ft drop. Young was found with severe lacerations, numerous fractures, contusions, and a branch in his anal cavity. He also had been stabbed and his pants were in a tree above him, some 15 ft off the ground.

For a while it was a mystery but the story as outlined above was eventually pieced together.

The final words on the story should perhaps go to Commissioner Appleton who summed it all up saying,

“So that’s how a dead 255 lb man with no pants on, with a truck on top of him and a stick up his ass came to be”.



Never Hitch Your Wagon To Another Man’s Horse

“Fight Against Stupidity And Bureaucracy”


Strangely this blog post is neither about wagons nor horses, but I thought the title was catchy. It is related though, I haven’t reached the stage yet where I have to deceive people into reading my blog.

This post is about Chief Petty Officer Roman Styles, U.S. Coast Guard Station, Jacksonville, Florida who decided to repair some damaged shingles on the roof of his house himself, instead of paying a contractor to do it for him.

Ever conscious about the dangers of working at heights and on sloping shingles in particular, Chief Petty Officer Styles tied a safety rope to the trailer hitch of his truck prior to climbing up on his steep roof. Then, once he had climbed up to the peak of his roof he secured the other end of the line around his waist and slid over the top of the roof to repair the shingles.

So far so good. He started his repairs.

As luck would have it, bad luck that is, shortly after he started to work, his teenage son called for a ride home from a Boy Scout trip. Mr Styles’ wife, Jane, took the call and went straight out of the house, got into the truck and yelled to her husband that she’d be back right away.

“I didn’t see the rope,” Mrs. Styles said later, “until I saw it in the rear-view mirror. By then I was half-way down the street.”

Bill Schlimm, a next door neighbor, said, “I’ll never forget the look on Roman’s face as he came sailing over the peak of that house. If it hadn’t been for that tall cedar tree he would have been really hurt.”

After realizing what had happened, but not before she had dragged her poor husband quite a ways down the street, Mrs Styles summoned emergency help.

Mr Styles’ bad luck was compensated by the good luck that he only had to be treated for a slight concussion and a few scrapes and bruises.