Archive for the ‘Vehicular Stupidity’ Category

Time and Stupidity

Tuesday, May 20th, 2008

For years, scientists have been grappling with the concept of time. They dream of harnessing this elusive, mysterious phenomenon in order to perform heretofore unimagined wonders. Stupers (short for chronically stupid persons) often manage to stop time altogether.

Take for instance, Fred’s simple excursion into a multi-story parking structure. He arrived early, knowing spaces would be plentiful. Fred entered the structure and promptly came to an abrupt halt. Another car, stopped dead center, awaited the departure of a parked vehicle. From Fred’s vantage point, he spotted numerous, lonely, vacant spots, just around the corner. Undoubtedly, they existed throughout the structure.

Meanwhile, the driver of the car in front of Fred, brushed her hair and applied mascara while she rocked out with Avril Lavigne. And the parked car that she awaited? Well, that driver had slipped into a coma.

As the clock ticked, a line of cars appeared behind Fred. Fred tooted his horn. No reaction from either stuper. Then he honked it. Motorists behind him chimed in to show their support. No reaction. When Fred rolled down his window, about to scream like a banshee, the parked car driver must have awoken from his reverie. He started his engine and slowly lumbered out. Finally, Fred was free to drive up and away and choose from hundreds of available spaces in the structure.

What should Fred have done to offset the immense annoyance and irritation he felt being stuck behind persons of such obviously impoverished intellects? He should have reached behind his seat, pulled a few levers and convinced himself that he didn’t lack patience, had plenty of time, focused on something he really desired in life, then clicked his heels together three times and said, “There’s no way stupers can get to me.”


When I went to the post office to send a package, I considered myself exceedingly fortunate; there was only one person in line in front of me.

When it was my turn, the postal worker seemed pleasant and helpful. Visions of finishing my business in less than two minutes danced in my head. That was before the bundt cake incident.

Just after my package was weighed, the employee reached behind her to get a stamp when time froze for all present. Why? Because the worker assisting me stopped to chat with another employee who’d just arrived, and who suffered from an unnatural desire to describe, in abundant detail, the bundt cake she’d baked the night before. The kind of detail normally utilized to describe a science experiment to the professors in the physics department of MIT.

To recapture the attention I required, I attempted to exude enough personal warmth to ignite a small campfire; I smiled, threw back my head and laughed in wild abandon. Not surprisingly, it didn’t work, although the rest of the people waiting in line were quite amused. I was just about to yell, “Hey!” in a volume that would surely prove once and for all that I was a gifted yeller, when the worker turned back to me and gave me my stamp. Next time, I’ll just click my heels together and say, “There’s no place like home,” so before I know it, I will be home.

Remember, focus on your good so your good will grow. If you focus on stupidity, well, you know what’ll happen.

Keep thinking.


Stupidity While Driving Does Not Necessarily = A Ticket

Tuesday, April 22nd, 2008

We all have stuper (short, yet again, for an astoundingly stupid person) moments, perhaps even while operating a motor vehicle. In my own driving history, I’ve sometimes surpassed (just barely, mind you) the speed limit or possibly broken a few inconsiderable laws, such as driving over a curb while searching for my lost cat or easing through a stop sign that looked all but abandoned. I wasn’t exactly breaking any regulations. Not really by all that much, anyway. For all of us, these stuper moments may invite contact with members of the police force.

I’ve been driving for quite a while, and I’ve been pulled over at least a half a dozen times. Only once have I actually received a ticket. Not that I didn’t necessarily deserve more, but I believe that proper, respectable, pleasant and courteous interaction with officers of the law can lead to a happy and mutual parting of company without involving any costs due and payable by the driver.

My first time involved an officer following me home after I drove the car up and down a curb that got in the way of my search and rescue maneuvers. I’d been looking for my missing, elderly cat, which, it turned out, was dozing behind the washing machine. I firmly, but politely, explained the reason for my flustered driving, and the kindly officer bowed graciously and left me alone without any parting paperwork.

My sole ticket was the result of my speeding in the fast lane on the freeway (where else?). When the nice officer pulled me over, I immediately apologized. I had nothing to hide; I knew I was driving over the limit and told him so. I truthfully explained that it was my first day at a new job; I was nervous as well as distracted. He asked me how fast I thought I was going. I knew then that the time for negotiation had arrived. I knocked off ten miles from my actual speed. He agreed and handed me my ticket. And that was thankfully that.

Another time, an officer insisted I rolled through a stop sign without fully stopping. I respectfully asked him how that could possibly be true? No mother with two young children in the car would ever behave so rashly, and in truth, I was fairly certain that I had stopped completely and legally. The officer, who must have noticed that I seemed the responsible sort, merely gave me a warning and allowed me a free pass.

Lest you think (as I have often heard in the past by disgruntled males) that I am let off for being a woman, just the other day, my husband (H) was also given a free pass when pulled over for speeding on the highway. H admitted to going 70 mph in a 55 mph zone and apologized to the officer, explaining that there was a great tune on the radio, no cars around, and that he somehow lost himself in the beauty of the moment. Noting that the officer had little sympathy at that point, H suddenly realized he’d met the man before.

“Don’t you remember me?” H asked. “You helped me once when I had a problem with my car. You told me that you like motorcycles. So do I!”

The officer did remember. And so began a lovely friendship, and the issuance, thankfully, of a mere warning to H to pay more attention next time.

Should you find yourself engaged in a stuper driving moment, my dear readers, involving the unwelcome appearance of a law enforcement officer, get a firm grip on yourself. Don’t give in to stupidity. Realize that a stuper would most likely become annoyed or argumentative when asked to pull over by police for a potential driving violation. Instead, keep your wits about you. Communicate as honestly as you deem feasible and without incrimination. And always act courteously. It doesn’t hurt to smile at the officer who probably doesn’t receive many during the course of his/her day.

Think first, last and always.


Say No to Stupidity!

Wednesday, April 9th, 2008

My husband (H) finally turned to the dark side. Well, not exactly the dark side; more like the empty-headed side, where thoughts continually escape like balloons in a park on a windy day. Where stupers (short, as you know, for mercilessly stupid persons) roam and annoyingly play.

I joined H on a short business trip to Los Angeles. As you may be aware, Turn Signal Deficit Disorder exists in plague like proportions in major cities. LA is no exception. We watched cars spontaneously drift in and out of freeway lanes at will, cutting off other vehicles, without care or remorse. Stupers regard the turn signal as an unnatural, complex, even tricky mechanism. One that requires exhaustive effort for the mentally bankrupt.

H suddenly announced that he would use the turn signal no longer.

“What’s the point?” he asked. “No one bothers. No one cares. No one even notices. Why should I?”

I knew that attitude just wouldn’t do. For me to have a stuper or even a pseudo stuper for a husband would be the same as a police officer being married to a felon or a shrink married to a nutcase or a politician married to a saint. How would it look for a stupidity specialist to be married to a dolt?

I bided my time.

Overcome by guilt and discomfort in not using the efficient and simple communication device otherwise known as the turn signal, H’s rebellion lasted all of twenty-two minutes. He used the signal to safely indicate to all interested parties that we were exiting the freeway.

On our way home, we followed a car that diligently used its signal. This vehicle happened to change lanes frequently, in a safe manner, always giving proper notice. It was such a pleasure to be around an intelligent driver. And it didn’t hurt the cause that he happened to be driving a brand new Aston Martin. The sight of such conspicuous, persisent exercise of thought while driving a motor vehicle filled us with tears of joy.

As H dried my eyes, (rest assured that he had pulled over at this time), he announced,

“I would always use my signal if you were driving behind me in your car.”

And that is why I married him.

Meanwhile, be strong, dear readers. Don’t give in to the idiots around you. Do not take the easy way out. Continue to use your minds and cultivate your intelligence. Since the majority of people do not think, imagine how far you can get; oh, the dreams that you can achieve! There’s great pleasure one gives to oneself and to others when exercising a bit of thought.

Why not think?


Strife in the Fast Lane or When Idiot Drivers Get in the Way

Wednesday, April 2nd, 2008

I think I’ve found a permanent cure. No, not for baldness, nosy neighbors or compulsive liars, but for a far more pressing matter: idiot drivers. At least some of them, anyway.

Our highway system is tainted with incorrigibles, particularly in the fast lane. Sluggish drivers have mercilessly maligned the roadway system. Although we are mostly a tolerant society, such unmitigated dawdling must be addressed. The United States has tried to free countries and people from injustice. Why not the fast lane?


Case in Point:

Car #2 locked lips on Car #1’s fender in the fast lane. Such intimacy resembled either a tow job or a flagrant display of exhaust pipe tag. Tail-gaiting is no defense and a nasty crime by itself, but I must say that #1 maintained an empty space in front of it equal to four tourist-size buses. The legal speed limit was sixty-five mph. I clocked #1 at forty-two mph. The flow of fast lane traffic was officially clogged as nine vehicles trailed #1.

I’ve helplessly watched vehicles enter the freeway, perform a slick sideways maneuver into the highly coveted fast lane, and proceed to take up knitting. But no longer. I am sending a memorandum to the Department of Transportation outlining my solution. First , I will reiterate that the fast lane is not for:

– cruisers;
– sightseers seeking to view the action on the opposing side;
– multi-taskers;
– damaged or carelessly looked after automobiles; or
– vehicles with dysfunctional engines who sit in the fast lane to garner attention to their plight.

The fast lane is for:

– drivers in a hurry who lawfully operate their car, and do not place surrounding vehicles in jeopardy, cause aggravation or a sudden rise in blood pressure to other autoists; and
– those who wish to do a quick pass and resume in the second lane.

Now for the cure: I propose that the Department of Transportation create an even faster lane with stiff penalties for mindless motorists driving below the posted speed limit. Pecuniary penalties may not be harsh enough; imprisonment may be overly punitive. Therefore, I respectfully suggest an entirely new means of punishment:

A special task force or patrol unit should be created whose sole purpose is to monitor drivers in this new and improved faster lane. This Faster Lane Patrol will not carry traditional weaponry, but instead be equipped with markers, akin to paint-ball rifles. These non-lethal, non-staining, low-mess markers would place a temporary stain on laggards, not unlike a scarlet letter, for all to witness (removable by a good scrubbing or two or three).

Expertly trained sharp shooters would mark sluggish vehicles in colors such as chartreuse or light thulian pink, both intriguing hues, seldom chosen for the outside (or inside) of cars. I believe that such public designation of dawdlers would deter entry into this new and improved lane. Liberation of the fast lane can be a reality. And least that’s the argument I’m sticking with in my memo to the Department of Transportation.

Thoughts rule the world.


Stupidity is a Distracted Driver

Sunday, February 10th, 2008

How many of you have glanced, while driving, in your rear-view mirror, only to find that instead of viewing the face of the driver in the car behind you, you see the back of his/her head? This could be because said motorist is engaged in a 90 – 180 degree head turn in order to converse with a passenger… in the backseat. You have just encountered a case of distracted, inattentive and consequently, dimwitted driving.

I’m sure you’ve noticed, astute readers, that in the movies, the driver of a car often fixes his/her gaze everywhere, save the road ahead. This typifies behind the wheel acting in a film. Unfortunately, this also illustrates stupers (short once again, for unfailingly stupid persons) driving a car in real life.

Cell-phone use aside, stupers in vehicles are those who eat full course, buffet style meals, complete with tablecloth and silverware spread out on the front seat or dashboard while driving. Additionally, stupers floss their teeth, read novels or insert contact lenses, all of which have been actually spotted being done by moronic motorists while driving, according to a recent Automobile Association of America study. Why just drive when you can fax, shave or knit?

Is it too much to ask that drivers keep eyes on the road and hands on the wheel? I believe the foolhardy actually assume they are in a private space and may do as they please. Other motorists? Where?

I read of a woman playing the flute with both hands while driving. How did she control her steering wheel? With her knees, of course. I also read of an incident where an older woman brushed her teeth while driving her car about fifteen miles per hour (mph) in a forty-five mph zone. A long line of cars formed behind her. As she approached a red light, she stopped. The problem was she stopped about 300 feet before the signal in order to give her teeth a very vigorous brushing. She completely ignored the cars behind her, who commenced honking. The woman snapped out of her dental hygiene routine and stepped on her accelerator, speeding off… through the red light.

In a culture that appears to be time-starved and always on the go, the mentally unhinged readily give in to the temptation of completing tasks at inopportune and potentially unsafe moments…such as while operating a motor vehicle. They’ve dipped their toes in the rusty waters of alert, single minded driving and decided to remain on dry ground. Welcome to another episode of sheer stupidity.

Safe driving requires mental awareness. Since stupers seek out distractions while driving, how should the rest of us deal with dithering drivers? By steering clear of them. If you come across a distracted driver, and it’s a single lane road, slow down and give them space. If you’re in front, get out of the way.

Just think.


When Stupidity Blocks the Way

Tuesday, January 15th, 2008

Say you’re driving along the open highway at or around the speed limit of fifty-five miles per hour. There’s a single lane for each direction buffered by broad, flat shoulders reminiscent of the jolly green giant. They are so broad that one could park one’s car, set up picnic tables and host a barbecue with plenty of room to spare for a marching band.

Why then would a minivan stop in its tracks, on said highway, blocking all motorists behind it? What’s that you say? Because the engine broke down? Close, but you don’t get the prize. The correct answer is that something did break down all right; but not the engine. It was the dilapidated, non-functional mind of a stuper (once more, short for a taxingly stupid person).

This scenario was activated by the appearance of a small canine. A Chihuahua, to be exact. Not on the highway. Not on the spacecraft size shoulder. But off to the side of the ample shoulder. This pooch wasn’t even facing the road, but was trotting off in the opposite direction toward a trailer park.

My sixteen-year-old sat behind the wheel of our car with me riding in the passenger seat. Naturally, I shift to red alert when with my teen driver, all radars up and running. I even have my own make-believe brake beneath my right foot while my left hand clutches the dash.

The minivan abruptly halted in front of us. Yes, the shoulder was free for the taking, and the oblivious dog was a good fifty feet away.

Remember that stupidity does not perceive a situation the same way we do. My son and I saw a dog that may have needed some assistance. After all, it was off the leash and near a highway. We would have pulled over to the shoulder, safely. And then taken the animal in our protective custody before attempting to find the irresponsible owner.

The stuper saw no shoulder or approaching traffic behind her. She viewed, off to the side, a lone, albeit happily trotting critter and decided rescue was in order. Other motorists be damned! What was more important – potentially saving a small creature who might or might not turn toward the highway or leaving your vehicle in a spot where the possibility of being hit ranks right up there with the possibility that Cleopatra ruled Egypt in 51 BC?

The stuper parked her van on the highway. My son passed her on the left when safe to do so in an open turn lane and resumed driving home. Another option would have been to honk. Really lay on that horn till the stuper took notice. But our priority lay in moving out of the path of danger.

When I find a moth fluttering in my home or a wandering pill bug, I take a small notecard, gently place the creature atop and move it outdoors. So please do not think for a moment that I do not value life forms. That is, non-threatening or thinking forms. But stupers are neither.

Those who place animal life above the safety of humans, in effect, devalue human life. Does saving the life of a Chihuahua justify placing human life in jeopardy? Who would you throw off the lifeboat if you had to choose in order to stay afloat, the chihuahua or the counterfeit human? We’ll save that discussion for another time.

The simple fact was, the meager minded driver could have safely and readily pulled over to the amply sized shoulder, and then pursued her heroic notions. As it was, she placed other drivers in harm’s way. Should you find yourself in a similar situation, safely remove yourself from the scene. And then, and only then, if you can be of assistance, please do so.

Think for yourself.


The Day I was Nearly Squished by Stupidity

Wednesday, January 9th, 2008

Driving, for most of us, means staying in the lane of our choice and leaving it with proper notice ( I casually refer here to those with Turn Signal Deficit Disorder). We do not drift out of the chosen lane with wild abandon, unless there’s an emergency. Or, unless you’re a stuper (short for an unerringly stupid person). For stupers attempting to navigate roadways, staying in the chosen lane is optional; drifting is perfectly acceptable and adds variety to an otherwise tedious task. And please take note: when the mind is perpetually adrift, how can focused concentration on driving possibly take place?

Alas, this can be exceptionally unpleasant and even hazardous if the stuper strays into a bike lane, jogging path or strip of grass reserved for those seeking serenity and quietude in the form of an afternoon stroll.

Stupers do not perceive things in the same way as you and I might. To demonstrate, please take a look at the photo below:

If I’m not mistaken, you, dear readers, see asphalt, representing a roadway, for use by motorized vehicles and bicycles. You notice the shadows, the brilliant blue sky. And you see grass, which is reserved for wildlife, vegetation and walkers/joggers who wish to stay out of the way of motorists. The grass may be viewed as a sanctuary of sorts. Stupers do not see asphalt and grass. Forget the sign. They only see one thing: a wide roadway.

I stick to the road/grass border when I’m out for a stroll. And I go in the direction opposite the traffic so I may see oncoming cars, as I tend to err on the cautious side. Should an automobile approach, I quickly shift onto the grass. Unfortunately, this does not guarantee my safety.

A few days ago, a large car chugged along toward me; I made an abrupt sidestep. But so did the carefree motorist who veered off course like a drunken sea captain feebly trying to grasp the slippery ship’s wheel while being thrashed about during a severe storm. I dove into the space between the decorative plum trees and the white fence. Meanwhile, the stuper drove as closely to the tree row as possible, before finally returning to the road.

After I got up, brushed the grass and leaves out of my hair and spit the dirt out of my mouth, I attempted to assess the situation. I could have been squashed! What if I’d been a trusting, absent-minded pedestrian?

I underscore and highlight the importance of staying alert. Remember, stupers suffer from a hindering lack of awareness. Their minds wander…perpetually. Should you find your mind meandering when awareness is required, gently coax it back. Or stupidity might catch you…unawares.

Think first, last and always!

Stupidity in an Emergency

Wednesday, December 12th, 2007

When you’re driving along and hear the warning siren of an approaching ambulance or emergency vehicle, this means a specific course of action must be taken. Cars should pull over and out of the way, safely. Unfortunately, sometimes this simple feat may prove overwhelming for a certain type of person. This means an unappealing possibility may be about to unfold: A stuper (short again for an unproductively stupid person) may be at large and about to make his/her presence known.

When I hear the blare of the siren, I move off to the side. My side, that is. Cars around me usually do the same, respectively. It’s heartwarming to see each driver, voluntarily and with different degrees of finesse, part the flow of traffic to allow emergency aid through.

However, once in a while, there’s that one unaware, empty headed motorist that continues right on moving until he’s practically shoved out of the way. Or there’s that other idiot driver who performs a different, though equally appalling act of singular stupidity. This latter motorist is often right behind me or a few cars back; he believes (mistakenly, of course) that he’s devised a brilliant plan to get ahead. If not in life, at least in traffic.

Once the emergency vehicle is gone, courtesy dictates that each car retake its original spot as before. However, opportunistic stupers perceive the sequence of events differently. They see it as a time to get ahead. Before the back lights of the ambulance are within his sight, the stuper decides to overtake all the suckers waiting patiently on the side in front of him, thereby moving up to the head of the pack. This means that conscientious drivers who are attempting to merge back in, must suddenly swerve to the side to avoid the stuper who has practically locked lips with the ambulance’s rear bumper.

Not anymore.

I suggest investing in a smoke grenade (retailing for around $11.95) that emits a thirty second miniature cumulus type cloud making it a handy companion for putting a halt to this type of vehicular stupidity. It comes in five appealing shades: white, red, yellow, green or blue. All an alert driver needs to do is keep watch on the vehicles behind him. Should said driver spot an overeager stuper, he may toss the smoke grenade out his window. And poof! The stuper’s misdirected ambition comes to an abrupt halt.

Just think!


Scary Stupidity

Monday, October 29th, 2007

Since it’s Halloween time, I thought I’d better come up with a haunting tale of stupidity. But then I realized every encounter with stupidity is scary.

As I drove down a narrow highway, I heard, then saw in my rear-view mirror, the flashing red lights of a fire engine racing along a short distance behind me. I also glimpsed a car, obviously operated by a stuper (short for a nincompoop, i.e., a stupid person). I say, “obviously” because although four vehicles ahead of me and I pulled over to the shoulder to allow the fire truck passage, the stuper’s vehicle plodded along ignoring the siren and lights. The dolt passed me, and he passed the car in front of me, before finally pulling aside.

Maybe “pulling aside” are the wrong words. He ambled over to the shoulder, then despite the fact that additional engines were fast approaching, this stuper decided to return partially into the lane to better view the crises.

I was fascinated yet disgusted by this wantonly outrageous behavior. Stupers believe their curiosity overrides an emergency situation.

Driving came to a standstill to permit the emergency vehicles to get by. Since it was difficult to watch the action from behind the wheel, this denizen of stupidity got out of his car. He then stood partly in the lane that the fire engines sped through, again to better view the disaster. The engines had to swerve a bit to avoid hitting him. Ah! Just a few more tiny steps out, and he might have been squashed.

I happened to have a camera on me. I took a photo in order to capture the expression and demeanor of a counterfeit human in progress. I’m afraid that I wasn’t close enough to capture anything more than the mere essence of this human embodiment of stupidity. I apologize, but I was unwillingly to leave my car and wander into the opposing lane just to take the stuper’s photo, even for my dear readers. However, I clearly saw the look of a stuper at work as he turned toward me to see if he was missing any action behind him.

Please indulge my attempt at describing this personification of stupidity:

  • Subject’s eyes were wide open, but glazed over and limited in scope (meaning he stared at the same place for some time before turning away);
  • Brows slightly raised indicated a possibly permanently imbued stunned look;
  • Mouth cracked open. I’ve noticed the mouths of many such people gape this way often providing a natural habitat for gnats and small flies. I speculate that this occurs because brain waves do not fully circulate or circulate at all. Consequently, the mouth is not given instructions regarding closure;
  • Physical movements were slow and haphazard since little, if any, thought transpired;
  • Blinking of the eyes happened at less frequent intervals than people of medium intelligence and higher.

Barring any medical conditions, drugs or alcohol forming the crux of such physical traits, the above describes the general physical attributes of a typical stuper.

I found myself haunted by the inane expression worn by this feeble minded fellow. So when it came time to carve a pumpkin for Halloween, this is what I ended up with:

A near perfect rendering of the hollow headed highway stuper.

Men can live without air a few minutes, without water for about two weeks, without food for about two months – and without a new thought for years on end. ~Kent Ruth

Just think!


Friday Fantasy and Stupidity Bonus

Thursday, October 25th, 2007

Once again, I’m going to indulge in a little reality mixed with fantasy regarding one of my latest encounters with stupidity:


I’m driving straight on a narrow highway, both hands lightly gripping the steering wheel, eyes riveted on the road, good citizen that I am. There are two cars in front of me, and behind me….wide open space.

The speed limit is fifty-five mph; I drive somewhere around sixty. I watchfully maintain a safe distance from the car in front of me. The sky is blue. Birds are twittering. The fields are sprouting new green growth. How lovely! I sigh a deep sigh of tranquility.

Just ahead and to my right, I spot a pick-up truck, sliding to a stop from a side road. When I am almost close enough to make out the color of the driver’s eyes, he sharply turns, directly in front of me, forcing me to slam on my brakes.

Take note again, dear readers, that behind me, the lane was clear all the way to the next county. Maybe even to the next state. All the stuper (short for a phenomenally stupid person) had to do was wait three whole seconds for me to pass. Instead, he cut me off and took nearly four minutes to bring his car to to a whopping thirty-five mph.

The moronic motorist was neither an elderly person nor a teenager. I suppose that when one views the world through a straw, as stupers do, cutting another person off comes quite naturally.


Besides being a wife, mom, chauffeur, cook, laundress, gardener, punching bag for testy teens and sewing challenged seamstress, I’d like to add sharpshooter to my domestic repertoire. Then I would have taken careful aim at the pick-up truck. Not because I am eager for a little blood and guts; I just want to shoot out a couple of back tires. You know, as a token reminder to mentally deprived drivers to practice a little awareness and courtesy next time. Either that, or I’d like to be an active member of the Highway Patrol; just for one day.

As a bonus, I’d like to share a stupidity alert, thoughtfully sent to me by New Diva on the Blog :

This appeared on Rantings of a Creole Princess:

A company supervisor called Walmart and ordered a cake for a going away party. Here’s what he told the Walmart employee to put on the cake, “Write ‘Best Wishes Suzanne.’ Underneath that, ‘We will miss you.'”

Unbeknownst to the supervisor, he had placed his order with a stuper. Here’s what he got:

Isn’t it freaky the way some brains work (or don’t work)? If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it possible.

Keep thinking!