KEEP YOUR BUTT IN THE CAR!!

OK, i know plenty of people who every now and again take a moment and enjoy a good smoke, we all have our vices and moments of bliss through altered states. all of the folks i know however do not discard the remnants out the friekin window! Driving another 250 miles today, i decided to count the butts on my windshield instead of the number of people texting and driving.



Desensitized for long enough, i am about to make my stand. if one more butt hits my windshield, my hood of my car, my front grill, or some narcissist rat with wings swoops down and chokes down another glowing ember and in turn spits it back out on my trunk.,, i shall slam on the brakes and walk the earth with a pointed stick and start a saliva collection of filters.. the DNA test in turn will prove WHO the filthy guilty parties are and in turn send them to purgatory! If Dante was alive he would have a special hell for these ruthless litterers of the world. lets see a stairway to lung cancer alley or how about just being slung into a big valley of spit squeezed from the cancerous cigarette butts that have piled knee deep into the millennium.. maybe i am being a little hard on the unconscious habit of the poor smoker who has been forced into submission by the marketing media geniuses. These litterers know not what they are doing because they either have smoke on the brain or have tarred their reasoning powers senseless. or is it unconscious at all..?? Lucid or not they are silently keeping our street cleaners in business, our roadways charred, and our beaches a vast ashtray. There are many forms of discarding the last morsel of these cancer sticks that these pesky litterers have mastered over the years. i have noted them all curiously and find each intriguing, comical, and sick in their own style.

the flick:


the nonsulant butt-head: the one who doesn't even look in their side or rear view mirror, a quick reflex, the thumb and finger tightly squeezed together and zoom it flies to the ground.. normally a straight shot away from the vehicle they are driving and onto oncoming traffic.. the car they hit never knew what hit them and the poor confused driver figures it must be starting to hail hell fire or that that McDonald's they just passed blew up and tiny french fries are on fire falling out of the sky. these crazed drivers are the true pyromaniacs. the folks who don't have enough guts to burn down a building or set themselves on fire. these are the true culprits the conscious fire mongrels that just smoke to throw little fire balls at people because they can, protected by their armor of choice and walking the line of litterer and arsonist..

the bomb:

not to be mistake with the conscious flick to oncoming traffic,.. this is the precise aiming and firing of a specific strategic target. Usually the car behind the bomber sees the incoming projectile and tries not to swerve into the 18 wheeler two feet to their left. so the bomb hits.. dead center.. the hood.. the windshield.. you look up and see the grimace of the menace. glaring back at you "take that you non-smoker!" he silently thinks .. one day his bomb will actually pay off, one day it will hit the grill and it will be sucked into the gas line and you will be forced to suck in smoke as your car explodes..

the fake:

normally a poser with "save the world bumper sticker" trying not to get caught.. or the school principal dressed in drag smoking a Virginia Slim thinking no one will ever catch them in the act.. it is almost a wave, yes!, it is a a half wave, yea a cross between a wave and I'm am going to hang my hand out the window and tap my fingers to this radio station. an all in one motion gesture so smooth that you almost don't notice that slimy fire ball rolling off their fingers into the wind, bouncing off the pavement and landing dead center of the hood of your car sizzling a nice quarter size hole.. I love that one.. the slanted eye glance the half smirk into the rear view mirror to see if you took notice to their little smoking game. they are the ones thinking "i am only going to drive around and smoke so nobody sees me in public, and if they ever drive with me in my car there will be no evidence of cigarette smoking, an empty ashtray and a scented Christmas tree hanging on the rear view mirror" they might as well drive around with a bumper sticker that reads "i smoke" cause anything scented hanging from a rear view mirror is a dead giveaway that something ain't right!

the inhale throw:

out of all the techniques this one grosses me out the most.. the very last deep inhale.. full mouth puckering, eyes sinking deeper into the cranium and the thumb finger throw out the window... man is that smooth.. the subconscious litterer at their best.. total absorption of the moment.. the inhale draw, the throw before exhale, meanwhile never noticing the fire trucks passing them or the mile high flames behind..

the utter rudeness, the out and out obliviousness and disrespect for ourselves.. is it so prevalent that people just accept it?? are not the 3x4 foot clean sections on the beach getting harder and harder to find..??? are kids collecting lipsticked stained menthol's instead of sand dollars and sea shells? is anyone on the same wave length?? should i just lighten up and light up? i still see the Cherokee on the hill, the tears of pain. that was the 70's, the land fills of desolation in our back yards. this is the millennium it is time to open our eyes and save our butts.....

bit by a dog today

I was bit by a little ratdog today in the backwoods of south kakalaki. yes, a ratdog, one of those little red haired puff balls that people call dogs. It all started innocently as my life as a medical equipment provider in which i help those who are home bound and in need of assistance. Any kind of assistance, from getting their mail to providing them a proper fitting wheelchair. Over the last two decades i have been in more houses than the average census bureau mailer. I have been in multi million dollar houses, suburbia neighborhood houses, mill houses, to the single wides that one has to kick the chickens away from the front door to get in. Not just in the dwellings of all of America, but conversing with every homeowner, renter, and squatter that resides there. I have been a news paper boy, lawn service representative, gutter cleaner, dick van patten triple pain window salesman, cable guy, and medical equipment rep. i have put myself into some vicarious situations to say the least. i thrive for it. something new, the real thing, my own reality tv show with me as the producer, main character, supporting actor, and the sound chief. Just when you think you have seen it all you reach the next place of refuge and you realize you have seen absolutely nothing. And i mean NOTHING. My wife loves to hear of my daily escapades but has become desensitized from the utter brilliance and originality of it all. so here i am spilling the beans of what happened between me the windshield and a few hundred miles of driving over gods creation to witness beauty only found in the eye of the beholder.

Today i found beauty in the dog that bit me. I was driving my big bad silver dodge sport mini van up to my last patients home of the day. the only thing cool of my mini van is the little Jamaica flag sticker i have on the back window, a reminder of days that are forever etched into my soul, but that's for another day. As i pulled into the gravel mud driveway that circled around the double wide all i could hear were varmints barking even with my headphones blaring the Beatles on Pandora from my blackberry.

I have two dogs of my own, large dogs that one would never mistaken for anything but a dog. These particular animals, four or five of them, i figured were tamed rats or some kind of cross between a ferret and a large squirrel..Perfectly harmless i thought except for the screeching of a noise they made between their razor vampire bat like fangs. The patient i came to see yelled out the door "don't worry, they don't bite!" famous last words..

i got in the front door fine, then all hell broke loose and they cornered me. i started having flashbacks from grade school when my best friend sicked his dog on me and watched me hide behind his closet door while his dog tried his best to take a chunk out of my ass. my best friend was laughing hysterically till his mom came in and threw a shoe at him and that little mutt that had me cornered.. we are still friends to this day believe it or not, but that is only because i got revenge by inviting him over to hold my cat really close to his face, "because the cat will purr really loud if you do it" My friend still has a few scars to this day.

Anyhooos as i was having flashbacks one of the ratdogs, that didn't bite, took a chunk out of my leg. the black one, that looked like a doberman pincher on reverse steroids and about the size of a size 8 shoe, attempted to take a piece out of my ankle. "sir, your dog just bit me" i was ready for him to tell me that it wasn't his dog and i was inspector clusso. he replied, "that one has never bit anyone". As i grimaced in pain, i said, "so i guess your other three dogs have?" don't worry, they have all had their shots! don't worry isn't going to help my imminent infection or blood from ceasing to drip on the floor, but i felt better knowing i perhaps wouldn't be foaming at the mouth later that night. as i pulled out of the red clay gravel drive waving bye and wondering how i had the strength not to boot the pooch through the ceiling when it bit me, i thought "when he said they had their shots, can i really trust his word that those varmints weren't rabid in the first place? were those really dogs? and did that REALLY just happen?" I put the Beatles back on listened to "let it be" and i knew every little thing was going to be alright, even if i did have rabies.

One love road warriors,

Peace