I once shot a man for snoring.
With my camcorder because he’d been telling me for YEARS that he didn’t snore.
+1
You should really read the whole thread, especially this post. All pullin did was make sure the drunk driver paid the judgement that was set by a judge. The drunk was trying to evade his legal responsibilities by changing jobs, moving, etc. Are you saying pullin should have let the guy get away with that? The natural consequences of being a (5 time) drunk driver certainly should include paying full recompense to the people you injured.
I can’t believe people are siding with the drunk driver here. The only person who’s responsible for the family being ruined is the person who chose to get behind the wheel while he was drunk, and I’m glad to know that at least one drunk driver is actually being punished. Too many drunk drivers get off with just a slap on the wrist. It’s good to know at least one drunk driver got what he deserved.
In HS I stopped a bully from pommeling the class clown and for weeks got shoulder butted in the hallway every time we passed each other. I finally got pissed off and threw my books down and then hit him as hard as I could in the stomach. I mean I hit him hard enough to lift him up and back. I could hear the air rush out of his mouth. He did not go down. I knew it hurt. He had just enough left in him to hit me once. Civility ensued. Best tasting fat lip ever.
Ahhhhh…I got nuttin’.
But decades ago, our company relocated us from CA to the DC metro area. We were still settling in after a couple of months (adjusting to the gawdawful traffic, weather…gradually becoming “Virginians”. One thing we all had in common was to avoid changing our vehicle registration until the the last possible minute (personal property taxes for a car? Isn’t that like…like from the early 1900’s?). As we shall see, this can be both an advantage and a disadvantage.
One of the relocation victims I worked with liked to ride his motorcycle back and forth to work. One day (a Tuesday), while waiting to make a left at a light to enter his apartment complex, he gets hits mildly from behind by a young lady driving a subcompact. Not enough to damage the bike, but hard enough that he would have been pushed into a busy intersection, had he not had his brakes on.
He gets off of the bike to confront the lady and get her name, address, insurance, etc… She gets out of her car, yelling at him and smacks him in the head–knocking his visor down. Stunned by her action, he does nothing–she then gets back into her car and drives off. He has just enough wherewithal to get the licence number of fatale près femme. Her plates are from a state out west.
He calls the cops back in the apartment. They show up and tell him that while she most likely committed the alleged felony and battery, it was doubtful they’d ever find her because of those plates; they have no local address to find her at–unless she was pulled over by a cop or got into an accident. (You’ll see a lot of out-of-state plates in the area; some people live in DC metro area temporarily and don’t bother registering their car in VA or MD) So looking for an out-of-state car would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. My friend is resigned to the fact that there’s nothing to be done…but very thankful he wasn’t hurt or killed.
The next morning, my friend comes out of the apartment and finds his motorcycle covered with mustard. He is enraged for a couple of minutes. But soon he calms down–the realization comes over him that he still has the final say in this battle with the evil One. For one thing, he also owns a car.
He goes back into his apartment to call his boss and explain that he’ll be late and comes back out to clean up his bike. He then gets on his bike, and does a quick stop at a CostCo (that had just open in the area) while on his way to work. When he finishes for that day, he takes his bike to a company storage building and parks it there, telling another relocation victim who runs the joint he’ll pick it up in about a month. Catches a ride home from a buddy who followed him. Next day, he take his car to work from now on…
Two days later, late that evening, he and two friends jump into the car with the items from CostCo and conduct a systematic search of the area. They start with a circular pattern and drove through every apartment complex within a two mile radius. After 45 minutes, they find the car with the matching plate numbers…
A mysterious rain of four quarts of motor oil suddenly fell upon the young ladies carriage, along with an Jackson Pollack finale of a rather famous condiment used on hot dogs.
The final huile de grâce was the yellow roof ornament: an empty, extra-large bottle of French’s.
My friend I were in line at McDonald’s, and the guy in front of us was hassling a mentally challenged cashier. He actually asked the cashier to turn around so he could see where they put in the key in to wind him up. What a dick, it really bothered me.
We ended up sitting near the exit door. As the guy who fucked with the special employee was walking by to leave, I said “Excuse me sir”. He looked at me asked what I wanted. I said straight faced, “Could you please turn around so I can see why you’re such an asshole?”
He turned pale and left fast. My friend almost choked on his food. I was nervous leaving and walking into the parking lot, but the guy never stuck around to bother us.
Two stories, both starring my wife…
Many years ago we took a daytrip to the Catskills, upstate NY. That evening, heading home we were driving up a mountain when another car came up behind and proceeded to tailgate. I was in the right lane going my usual few mph over the limit. I slowed down to encourage him to pass, when he didn’t I went back to my previous speed and he stayed right on my bumper. I told my wife to grab a handful of braunschweiger left over from our earlier picnic and I moved into the left lane. I slowed down until he was next to us and my wife put herself out the window to her waist and threw a ninety mph fastball strike that would have brained him had he put his window down. He jammed on his brakes and we saw no more of him. I wonder just what he thought that substance splattered on his drivers side window actually was.
Fast forward to about fifteen years ago. We were driving home on a Friday night from her parents house in two cars. I had our then two year old son in his car seat in the back and she was following. An idiot kid got between us and started extreme tailgating on my car. I despise tailgaters and will deal with them but not with a child in the car. My wife did not have that constraint and pulled up next to him, scaring him to the point he took off and she went after him. Unbelievably, he pulled into the police precinct a few blocks from our house. He jumped out of his car and ran in. He told the desk sergeant this crazy woman was chasing him. She explained what was happening. He asked the kid if he had been drinking. “A few beers” he answered and was promptly entered into the arrest procedure.
That’s pure awesome.
Last week, my son and I were at McDonald’s and the police were there talking to some of the employees. Apparently, we had just missed all the action. Two of the McDonald’s employees, teenaged boys, had been in a car on the way to work, and one of them leaned out the window and screamed, “Stop smoking, bitch!” (rich kids on the eastside have a different idea of delinquency) to a woman in a car passing by. Her husband followed them to McDonald’s, where he went inside and yelled at the kid and scared the shit out of him, and then he went out into the parking lot and smashed the windshield of the kid that was driving. I heard the cop that interviewed the kid tell him that if he yelled at and insulted his wife, he might do the same thing.
Truer words have never been spoken.
Damn! Where do I ***start?! ***:smack:
Well, I’ve obviously stumbled into this thread a little ‘late’! (Ya think?!) 
And seeing as how twickster has already put the kibosh on the whole cigarette butt thing, I’ll refrain from commenting on that.
-5
No, it wasn’t “significantly more wrong than his.”
Maybe “two wrongs don’t make a right”, but three lefts do! 
+1
Paging Mr. Steophan! Paging Mr. Steophan! Your seat in the Pit is now ready. Paging Mr. Steophan, please come to the Pit. Your seat is now ready.
+1
+1
I’m with ya’ on that, Clothahump!
Nice. Glad to see the police are advocating vandalism.
Yes, the kid was being an asshole and following him to McDonalds to yell at him was well warranted. But smashing the windshield? That’s crazy. And the police officer agreeing with it (albeit unofficially)? That’s crazier.
This story is third-hand or whatever . . .
Years ago Mr. S’s friend Ron is sitting in a bar with some friends. Now Ron is built like a Mack truck, but he’s really a teddy bear. Nice guy.
There’s a little guy down at the end of the bar by himself, nursing a beer and minding his own business.
Some drunks decide to start hassling Little Guy with offers to mix it up outside, etc. He ignores them, but they keep it up.
Finally Ron quietly catches their attention (still seated): “If he goes outside, we go outside with him.”
They back off.