So, I was driving home Friday night and I stopped at the gorcery store to pick up some beers. I came out of the grocery store parking lot and hopped onto the main road. Maybe a second later I see those old familiar blue lights flashing in my rearview. Fuck

Fuck 1) because I hate getting pulled over. I have a great driving record and it seems like cops know that and they try to fuck it up all the time. Fuck 2) because I had four drinks in the past 80 minutes or so.

I pull over immediately, flick on the dome light, and start fishing for my registration. Cop walks up and syas something obligatory. I ask what's up, I know I wasn't speeding. "Well, you blew the stop sign pulling out of the Food Lion back there," he says it like I did it to tease him.

"Oh damn. Honestly, I didn't even know there was one there."
"Have you had anything to drink tonight?"
Shit. I sigh. "Yeah, had four drinks."
"When was the last one?"
"Ah, 'bout fifteen minutes or so ago."
"Mind if I ask you to take a breathalyzer test?"
Shit. I sigh. "I guess not, no." I breathe into the tube, he says, "Well, looks like you blew a .09; right above the legal limit."
I die inside.
"But since you just had your last drink, I'm going back to the car and I'll be back in a few minutes." He returns to the cruiser.

So I'm sitting in my car, reviewing the scenarios sprinting through my mind; wondering why the hell he didn't show me the breathalyzer. I scrape my tongue, swear under my breath, check the rearview. Shit.

Cop comes back, I breathe. "Still showing a .09 pal." Fails again to show me the breathalyzer. "But by the time I get you downtown, you'll be below the legal limit, and you're less than a mile from home. I'll cut you a deal here sir. You get out of the car, walk home, and I'll just give you the ticket for running the stop sign. I've got to run, but I don't want to see you driving this car."

"Thank you officer." I'm releived, confused, but glad that my life hasn't been screwed up. I grab the beers, a few items from the car, lock it up and begin the short walk home.

Now, after getting home and reviewing the events and checking my ticket out; I come to some weird conclusions:
1. The back of the ticket is not filled out. It doesn't say if I have to appear in court, fines, court costs; nothing. I remember him saying I had to go to court, but the entire back side of the ticket was left blank.
2. I never saw the breathalyser results. I've never had to take one without the cop showing me my results.
3. There's no stop sign pulling out of the grocery store and onto the main avenue. I went back the next day just out of curiosity and there's nothing.

I talked to a few lawyer friends and they think I should take a few pics and fight the ticket. I wonder if I could just mail the ticket in with a picture in the envelope. Case closed right?

Posted by: Id at 09:13 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 578 words, total size 3 kb.

When your neighbor has so many sexual encounters that he keeps them catalouged in the thousands by sexual encounter, personality type, and hair color; you know he's gotta be a pimp. Or a felony child abuser.

What I though was interesting was the way the article described repeat child abusers. People who use their power and position to lure needy or easily corruptable children into easily controllable situations. And this guy's been doing it for like 30 years or something without every registering as a sex offender. I mean, what's it going to take to put a child molester away? Do we have to wait until my kid comes back from the playground walking crooked or what?

Posted by: Id at 04:51 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I told you , you fuckers. She was brain dead. Couldn't see shit, didn't know shit, didn't care. And you wanted to keep her alive, against her wishes. You bleeding heart pussies.

Posted by: Id at 05:12 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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So last night there was this thing on TV called "48 Hours: Mysteries'. The episdoe they did was on a guy named Michael Blagg who was convicted of murdering his wife and daughter. Without any hard evidence or even eyewitness testimony.

Apparently, he wife was shot in their home, taken to a dump, and left there wrapped in a tent. his daughter was never found. Blagg's alibi is that he was at work that day; he even left voicemail messages for his wife and child on their home answering machine.

They never matched the bullet in the wife to a gun owned by Blagg. They never said his alibi wasn't true. I mean, if he was at work, people would remember it, the timeclocks and surveillance video would prove it. The neighbors don't remember hearing a gunshot in the iddle of the night, or seeing the family van leave at odd hours. There is nothing connecting this man to his wife's murder except circumstantial bullshit.

The best part is, a witness for the prosecution (the wife's mother no less); admits to making shit up on the stand. She got up there and made up her testimony as it popped into her head, saying that Blagg choked his wife once. She continues to go on saying she never reported the incident, and has never spoken about it until that very moment in the courtroom. She got up on the stand and was allowed to make an unbased, unverifiable testimmony of something that may or may not have happened years ago. Shitty.

The media made him out to be a cheating (a claim later revealed to be completely unfounded and untrue) porn addict. The media reported all this shit for a year or something until the trial date, inundating this small community with all sorts of fucked up opinions. Needless to say, by the time jury selection came around everyone had already made up their minds. The public defender didn't stand a chance against such fools, and he went to jail.

I can't imagine coming home from work to find your wife and child dead. I can't imagine not being able to join the searches for them because the media made people think it would be a conflict of interest. I can't imagine being sentanced to life in prison with no hope of parole, when the two people you love most in the world aren't even alive to come visit you. It's like a fucking horror story.

Honestly, I'd kill myself before I'd ever go to jail for some shit I didn't do.

Posted by: Id at 04:55 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Michael Jackson. What can I say - luckiest child molester I know.

1. Has America made such idols of it's celebrities that we cannot convict them of any misdeeds? See also, O.J., Robert Blake.

2. There is a difference between doubt and reasonable doubt. I guess defense attorneys have done such a great job blurring the line between the two, that they are now interchangeable terms. If a man allows young boys to drink alcohol in his presence, shows this his porno stash, and then asks them to join him in bed; how can you possibly reasonably doubt what his intentions are? If I did the same to a woman my age my intentions would be pretty damn clear, and I would assume if I did the same to a child my inetions would get my happy ass sent to jail.

3. Even if Michael is suffering from some sort of advanced Peter Pan Syndrome, why would he be interested in sex, porn, and alcohol? These are all things that adults become interested in. If his aim was purely to find a playmate, why would he sleep with them? How many of the fellas out there had sleepovers where you got into daddy's liquor cabinet, looked through his porno, and then all climbed in bed together?

He's a sick fucker, and he should have at least gone down for attempt to molest and the alcohol charges. It's a complete boondoggle; and I hope we see him in court again.

And did anyone get a load of those damn jurors? What a bunch of fucktards

Posted by: Id at 05:07 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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