About Me

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Birmingham, Alabama, United States
43 Years old Born in Wilson, North Carolina. Work in Law Enforcement / Patrol, married I am a Political Conservative without a party to represent my vote. I dislike liars, especially the type who are politicians and preachers. I oppose abortion of any type at any stage. The baby is innocent and deserves life regardless of the mothers circumstances. I also dislike racists. Especially the kind that always scream racism at others when life doesn't go there way! Get a life, it's only skin color and God made idiots in all colors. I also dislike Democrats, they wouldn't know the truth if it bit them on the ass. I dislike Republicans, they are truly the most spineless creatures on God's green earth. I dislike arrogant environmentalist who think we can destroy what God created. If your homosexual, I don't dislike you, but please keep it in your own bedroom behind closed doors for the sake of the untwisted.

Monday, November 07, 2005

Road Rage!

Road Rage

So, your driving down the interstate, no doubt thinking on the events of your day or what you have on the agenda tomorrow. Your minding your own business, traveling between the posted speed limit of 70 mph and 80 mph. Then all the sudden your vehicle interior fills with blinding light. You glance up at the rearview mirror to see an 18 wheeler's radiator grill just off of the bumper of your car. No warning, no idea he snuck up on you so quickly. Before you are even able to change lanes, he is flashing those huge bright lights in your eyes. You want to check over your shoulder to see if the middle lane is clear to merge over into the next lane, but you can't see behind you for the blinding lights.

Suddenly, you are now thinking about the movie Maximum Overdrive, the movie that featured vehicles taking on a life source of their own with a lust for running over anything and everything in their path. But this is not a movie, you have 20 tons of metal bearing down on the trunk of your car traveling at 80 mph.

Road Rage sets in.

This is the unexplainable urge to take the situation personal. We as drivers of our vehicles now become as territorial as lions, tigers and dogs. My lane is my lane by God, and nobody will bully me into giving it up. What gives that trucker the right to rule the road? He is probably from out of state anyway, I live near here. Pride is also an important factor involved with road rage. You rationalize the situation. I was already doing the speed limit, maybe a little bit more, what gives him the right to be driving faster than me? I'll show him. I'm not going to merge over, heck no, I'm going to slow down. This will chap his backside. So you slow down. 80 mph, 75, mph, 70 mph, 65 mph. There, you think to yourself, I bet that got his panties in a wad. Sure enough, the trucker abruptly changes lanes almost kissing the back bumper of your vehicle. Now he is gaining on your right side. Now enters competition, this is the compelling urge to hold your ground, keep in the lead ahead of the truck. As the cab of the truck moves along side where you can see the front of his rig through your passenger side window, you step on the accelerator. Slowly you progress forward, watching with pleasure as the front of the rig falls behind. A giddy feeling of excitement and payback encourages you continue to put distance between you and the truck. Now who is the King of the road? You watch the trucks headlights fade smaller in the rearview mirror. You ease back in your seat with a smug feeling of victory, after all, you showed him who was boss. He needs to go down the interstate a bit further to find a driver who has no backbone. Maybe as far as Mississippi you think to yourself.

Now the traffic picks up a bit more and slows you down. You scan the lanes in front of you in order to choose which lane will give you the best possible strategic advantage over the trucker who has gained momentum. Yes, a slower vehicle just merged into the middle lane, you merge back to the far left lane. The trucker confirms your wise calculations by getting back into the far left passing lane. A smile brightens your face. You know round 2 is about to begin. You judge your speed against the slower middle lane driver, making sure he doesn't spoil your plans by merging in front of you. You accelerate to the point that you are side by side with the middle lane driver. All lanes blocked momentarily. Here he comes. The truck advances on your rear rapidly. You accelerate just enough to appear that you will overtake the middle lane driver and merge over in front of him, allowing the truck to gain the fast lane.

Just as the truck has built up enough speed to gain on you and maneuver around you in front of the middle lane driver, you lift your foot from the accelerator, rapidly losing ground to the middle lane driver. The trucker continues his speed until he is back on your bumper again. Success, you have boxed him in again. There they are, the high-beams flashing inside your vehicle again. You smile, you know the trucker's blood pressure has boiled over. He is at your mercy. You decide it is time to cruise at a leisurely pace for a few miles or 5. The trucker cannot get over due to other traffic that has caught up. You are in the drivers seat.

You have grown accustom to the bright lights and closeness of the 18 wheeler on your behind. It doesn't strike fear in you anymore. He can kiss my 4-wheeling, 4 cylinder butt, you think with pride. Besides, driving a big heavy truck like that is dangerous. He could hurt someone. Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud air-horn and more flashing headlights. Well, what do you know, your exit is coming up, and now you must gain enough speed to overtake both lanes of traffic to the right of you. You accelerate full speed ahead, leaving the group of travelers behind. now you take the exit lane and slow down enough making sure the trucker can catch up to you. As he pulls along side, you lift your hand to give him a 1 fingered salute. You see his brake lights flash on as you laugh knowing that he has no chance of making the exit lane. He gives up and continues on with his travels. You sit back and marvel at the nerve he had to challenge your right to drive however you see fit.

Now the excitement ebbs. You replay the whole experience from start to finish. After the joy of irritating this trucker goes away, you start to wonder why you even bothered with it in the first place. After all, that isn't how you normally react in your everyday life. You question yourself, why did I not just get over and let him go about his business? It wouldn't have hurt anything, I was in no hurry. Why did I let it get to me that way? You think to yourself, maybe he had a family emergency and was just trying to get home in a hurry and dint realize he was driving rude. You also realize that chances are that if you had met that same truck driver during the course of your day, you may have liked him enough to buy his lunch.

Now guilt sets in. The truth of the matter is that you as a responsible and courteous driver should have just merged over and given him the fast lane. Wow, you think to yourself. IM the inconsiderate driver. How did that happen? Is it the fact that when your in a car, your really anonymous to all others? Do you really feel safe in the surroundings of your vehicle to the point that you will act in a manor that is normally not your personality? This is something to think about the next time you are driving. You never know who is in the next car, and what they are capable of doing.

The useless philosophy of:


Tuesday, November 01, 2005

What's Wrong With Wal-Mart?

What's wrong with Wal-mart?

I happened to read an AOL news story featuring Wal-mart and their quest to improve their self image. Hey, I can help here! I can tell you everything you want to know and more about what's wrong with Wal-mart.

First, out of kindness I'll say this, Wal-mart provides a place you can go to shop and get anything you need in one trip, from groceries, underwear, and Rolaids, to getting an oil-change for your vehicle. Okay, now that I said that, I'll tell you what I really think about Wal-mart.

The commercials on Wal-mart show the hard working women who juggle being a mother and a career woman. They express their glee of being able to go to Wal-mart, get everything they need in one place, while saving big money hand over fist for their effort. Well, that's the idea and genius of Wal-mart. Now, let me tell you what happens when you enter the doors of your local Wal-mart for this one stop shop experience.

After choking out the second hand cigarette smoke from all the Wal-mart employees gathered around the entrance, smoking like a tar pit, usually you are greeted by an older employee wearing a blue vest and a smile. (the first and last smile you will see from a Wal-martster) you choose a shopping cart that least resembles a dumpster. At this point, most families split up and go different ways in search of their priority products. The lone shopper decides which way to navigate first.

You then begin browsing a particular section in search of that must have item. Well, darn, there it is, but the only package left has been torn open. It's still there, but even if it is something you wont be eating you don't dare buy it because it has been opened already. After all, we all remember the Tylenol tampering. So off to find that Walmartster you saw wearing a blue vest with "How can I help You? " written on the back. There she is putting something back in place on a shelf. You ask her if she knows if there is any more of what you can't find somewhere else in the store. She stares, blinks. And then lets you know with pride that she does not work in that section. Now you stare, Blink. After a moment of déjà vu (surely ive been here before, in this same situation) you watch the blue vest with (How can I help You?) disappear to the next isle. Great! after a moment of suppressing your skyrocketing blood pressure, you say the heck with it and move on to continue your one stop shop experience.

As you navigate past a small group of bluevester's arguing about when their next break is, and guide through a pickup game of Nerf football on isle 5, you find your next destination. You are browsing at some ties or bra's, whichever you wear, and suddenly you hear a loud voice over the intercom screaming code 7 in zone 4, code 7 in zone 4. You think to yourself, their looking for shoplifters, everybody knows that! You look around forgetting about the tie (or bra) to see if your being followed by secret service bluevester's (undercover of course). You fantasize about being tackled by Secret Agent Bluevester so you can sue the great Wal-mart Machine for false arrest. You grow bored with this thought, and this one stop shop experience and head towards the check-out counters with your buggy load of impulse buying you managed to collect while looking for what you needed.

Then you find yourself searching for a cashier that has less than a dozen customers. You notice that they have at least 40 cash registers, but only 5 of them with a cashier. Then you remember you needed a tobacco product. So you go to the one and only line that will provide you with this commodity only to find fifteen angry buggy pushers waiting for the one and only cashier allowed to provide you with this commodity to return from behind the Great Wall of Tobacco with a pack of Lucky Strikes. Now the bluevester cashier rings up the other 60 products the man had to go with the Lucky Strikes. 1 down and 14 to go. You thumb through a few gossip rags featuring the Freak Hollywood Star of the month to fill the precious time Wal-mart loves to detain you with in the store. (Best chance for that last minute impulse buy). 8 down and 7 to go. Oh no, the register light on the pole turns on as the cashier stops checking items and begins picking the nail polish from her register worn fingernails. After a few minutes you see Sergeant redvester stroll up to the register to insert her key card in and like magic the bluevester is checking items again. Finally only 2 to go. "This cannot be happening!" you hear yourself scream inside your head. A fresh bluevester walks up with an empty register tray in hand.

The nightmare continues. The bluevester's tally up the take for the Walton family in ever so slow fashion, after all, they are paid by the hour. finally it's your turn to experience the charm of a bluevester cashier. In your attempt to speed up this one stop shop experience, you place the big bag of dog food on the conveyor belt table top. Forbid waiting on her to do it, after all your just another paying customer. Now you use your debit card to make the purchase (another attempt at saving time) praying there is no malfunction while you remember shopper number 8's child pushing all of the buttons on it. Now, at last you get your receipt. At this point you clutch it as if it's a winning lottery ticket. You quickly head to the door, you cringe. You guessed it! the friendly bluevester greeter has been replaced by the receipt-Nazi. Yes, you must prove your an honest shopper by showing your proof of purchase. You smile because all she has left to do is place that silly orange smiley face sticker on your bag of dog food. As you leave the bluevester thanks you for your prolonged visit, and once again you are a free citizen with all your rights restored.

If Wal-mart can correct these problems with their earned self image that surely all shoppers experience, they will no doubt continue to dominate the retail world.

The Useless Philosophy of: