Parrothead Ramblings

Jerks come in all shapes and sizes.
Some even come in Escalades.

I learned yesterday that Parrothead Ramblings had been added to the blogroll of yet another fine site: Baboon Pirates. You'll love El Capitan, so stop on by over there. Whenever I get added to a blogroll, I do my very best Navin "Raised a Poor Black Child" Johnson routine, running through the house screaming "The new blogrolls are here! The new blogrolls are here! I'm SOMEBODY!" Well, maybe you had to be there.

But being added to a blogroll is just one more of life's little pleasures. One of those events you have to savor - a "stop and smell the roses" thing - to carry you along to the next one. Like yesterday, for instance. Did you ever notice that people think they are invisible when they are in their cars? I've seen people do things in their cars they would never do in public: like cramming their mouths overfull with cheeseburger, putting on makeup, screaming at their kids, playing air guitar, you name it. So there I was yesterday, up in North Snots-dale in my car. I had just been passed by a woman in a sparklingly immaculate mother-of-pearl Escalade with rims more valuable than my entire car, snooty Scottsdale dealership sticker on the back, bumper sticker with "My Child Was Student of the Month at the Most Exclusive Private School on the Fucking Planet" bumper sticker.Yeah, well my kid sold weed to your honor student, bitch. She couldn't be held up by the likes of a peasant like me, so she whipped around me and, of course, had to stop at the light at the next intersection. Nice move, Mrs. Earnhardt. She looked like a poster child for the "Trophy Wife of the Month Club." Perfect blonde hair, $400 sunglasses, enough jewelry to finance a third-world coup, and a wardrobe straight from The Biltmore. Perfect.

Except, that is, for that one little thing. She had her finger buried up to the second knuckle in her nose, digging for.....hell, I dunno.....maybe the Hope Diamond of all boogers. I found the whole display pretty entertaining, so I watched for a few seconds. Then it dawned on me that I was being rude. Others might enjoy this as much as me, like the nice people walking through the crosswalk in front of us. So, thoughtful guy I am, I rolled down my window, pointed at Escalade Lady to my left, and banged on the ol' horn. Crosswalk Ladies #1 and #2 stopped immediately, looked at me, then followed my direction to Escalade Lady. Jaguar guy, waiting to make his left turn, did the same. Escalade Lady froze in place like the proverbial deer in the headlights - finger poised a millimeter from her frontal lobe, eyes wide open, mouth agape - busted. Everybody found it quite humorous. Well, everybody but Escalade Lady, that is. Confused by the outburst, she took off on the green arrow! She managed to miss Crosswalk Ladies #1 and #2 and Jaguar Guy, but the infamous red-light camera didn't miss her.

Escalade lady's bad day grew suddenly worse. Soon, she will a get nice letter from the police. Attached to that letter will be a hefty fine for a red light violation, along with lovely full-color photo of herself, knuckle deep in her own nose while pedestrians scurry for cover.

Ahhh, yes. Life's little pleasures.
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