D.A.M.M. (Drunks
Against Mad Mothers)
Tirade followed
by viewer mail.
I see
Clinton is trying his darndest to shaft the average
American yet again. This mandatory BAL minimum is
total garbage. What does he care? He gets
chauffered every damn place. He's just trying to get in
bed again with the whining special interest lobbys like
MADD. When I first heard about the group "Mothers
Against Drunk Driving" I was suspicious. I mean why
not "Fathers Against Drunk Driving" or
"Parents Against Drunk Driving" ? Does this
fucking bunch of losers assume that they are the only
ones who care about kids ? Now admittedly, men and women
handle adversity differently. If we assume for the moment
that most people get blitzed after work because of
pressures on the job ( you know, brain-stem-baby bosses,
the Dilbertization of the workplace ), then its easy to
see why men might seek solace in booze after a shitty
work day ( or week ). Based on my experience, women tend
to not only put up with bullshit on the job, but to
rationalize it, even blaming it on themselves as in
"I must not have communicated clearly." or
"Maybe I was being judgmental.". Men however
see more clearly into the problem with observations like
"I'm gonna shove an ice pick up that faggot's shit
chute." or "I'm gonna douse that S.O.B. with
cleaning solvent and toss a lit cigarette at
him." Unfortunately our legal system does not
allow the carte blanche killing of M.B.A.'s so the astute
worker must retire to a bar after work ( preferably a
topless/bottomless bar ) to hash out his strategy and
maybe confer with his buddies, as in "Hey Hank, did
they ever find out who pushed that asshole supervisor
into the acid vat ?". Of course, after 8 or 9 beers,
this worker concludes that its best just to goon home,
punch out the wife, grill a steak and go to bed. Thus
alcohol serves as a kind of social safety net. Instead of
coming to work the next morning and murdering his
supervisor, he awakes with a dull hangover, remembers the
boat and house payment, and trundles on in to work like a
whipped mule.
If the Mothers Against Drunk
Driving really want to make a change, what about staffing
sobriety checkpoints where a guy who breathalyzes less
than .02 gets a free blowjob from a cute housewife in
sexy lingerie ? If these bleeding heart MADD bitches
really want to save their children's lives wouldn't they
be willing to give 10 or 12 blowjobs a day to keep
drivers sober ? I mean, even if I've had a bad day at
work, I might not stop off at a bar on the way home if I
knew I had a good chance of getting a free blowjob
from a Valium stoned young Farah Fawcett look-alike.
County governments could advertise their M.A.D.D.
fellatrices in campaigns to woo commuters. The mobile
young professional could channel surf the local access
cable stations to match possible employers and housing
with populations of cute young housewives who were
willing to suck cock and take facial cumshots to keep
commuters sober. This is a win-win
situation. Another thing that bugs me
about these fucking bitches is their knee-jerk reliance
on blood alcohol content. They seem to not realize that a
serious alcoholic, in peak training condition, ( say 3/4
to 1 quart of whiskey a day ) can toss back a lot of
booze and still drive just fine. Hell, some days I've
downed a fifth of scotch ( with a few sandwiches of
course ) and stood up to leave, thanked the hostess,
found my coat, etc. and the next day heard people at the
party swear I left sober, perfect gentleman, blah blah
blah. I've even driven ( and I don't recommend trying
this unless you're an Olympic quality alcoholic ) when
I've been unable to walk. That's right, I've had friends
pick me up and sit me behind the wheel when I've been
unable to walk from the bar to my car, and I've made it
home just fine. "Sure", you say, "anybody
can get lucky once." But I did this for 2 fucking
years! Now that's not luck, it's skill. What M.A.D.D. can
do is to sponsor legislation that would allow drivers to
take a road test with a certain blood alcohol level. If
they pass, then that information is encoded into the
magnetic strip on the back of their license. In
subsequent traffic stops, as long as they blow under that
level, they're off the hook for DUI. This insures that
responsible drinkers like myself ( I generally average
.08 around noon and .14 to .18 after dinner) would still
be able to drive to work, earn a paycheck, and pay taxes
and spend money in the local economy. It makes my heart
swell with pride to think of all the bars, liquor stores,
call girls, and bookies I support in my neighborhood, and
it really pisses me off that a bunch of frustrated
pablum-spewing crybaby bitches like M.A.D.D. want to
curtail my mobility.
George Kranz
Drunks Against Mad Mothers,
Take 2
Due to
my hectic work schedule, and the idiosyncrasies of my
computing environment, it's not often that I get a chance
to respond to, let alone acknowledge the readers of this
site. Many kind words ( and a few hilarious death threats
) have gone unanswered, and undeservedly so. I can do
little now except to offer apologies, and to pass on an
incredibly moving letter from one Herman Yablonski of
Rochester NY who read my "Drunks Against Mad
Mothers" piece and was moved to write:
Dear Mr. Kranz,
You
sure as hell hit the nail on the head with your article
on drunk driving. I hit the booze pretty hard too. Shit,
it's so fuckin' cold up here, you gotta get half blitzed
just to fuckin'go outside. I got to thinking, all the
goddamn cars I've wrecked over the years, and I never got
hurt once. You know why ? Cause I was totally shit-faced
in every one of those wrecks. Hell, ambulance drivers
will tell you a drunk don't get hurt cause he's loose and
don't tense all up on impact. Fuck, I've walked away from
every accident except one and that was when I was driving
a goddamn Good Humor ice cream truck one summer and some
little shit kid run out into the street. I swerved onto
the fucking sidewalk and hit a goddamn nun and then a
phone pole. Anyway the front wall of the freezer
compartment tore loose and there I was buried in frozen
fucking ice cream bars while this asshole nun is
screaming at me "You're going straight to hell young
man, blah blah blah." Anyway, I'm trying to move
from under this pile of ice cream to punch her goddamn
face in when the paramedics showed up and I figured it
was time to act cool. I came out smelling like roses, the
nun just had a busted up leg, and the parents of the
little shit kid swore I was a hero for wrecking my truck
to miss their darling little boy. Even got a cheap brass
plate for heroism on the job or something like that from
the guy who owned the ice cream plant. That was before he
caught me screwing his wife in the truck one day, but
that's another story. Another thing that's saved my life
a few times, I always drive big lead sleds, you know
Caddies, Lincolns, Oldsmobile 98s, none of this tin can
Jap or Korean shit. I was coming home late one night down
Lake Avenue here in Rochester after doing Irish whiskey
doubles and draft stout all night feeling no pain. I was
doing 75 or maybe 80 in my 71 Lincoln when some
bitch crosses the
white line and slams into me. I had a busted headlight,
some fucked up trim, a crumpled fender, and a slow leak
to my radiator. After I pried the fender away from the
tire I DROVE home. They were picking her up in glad bags
and scraping her off the interior of her fucking Toyota.
If these safety faggots in Washington care so goddamn
much about us, why don't they let Detroit build the good
iron like they used to ? Anyway, keep up the good work,
and let me know if there really is a group called
"Drunks Against Mad Mothers" that I can join.
( Signed ) Herman Yablonski
There
were tears of pride just starting to form in my eyes when
I finished Mr. Yablonski's letter. Here was a letter
straight from America's heartland written by the kind of
man that our faggot infested public schools can't or
won't turn out any more. My hat is off to you, sir, and
the next time I'm in Rochester, we'll take my 65 Caddy
Coupe de Ville and tear up Lake Avenue for a few
Bushmills together. Take care, and God bless.
His letter got me thinking.
These shriveled prune-tit dykes that keep whining about
drunk driving have got it bass ackwards. What we need is
a law that makes driving UNDER a certain blood alcohol
level illegal. I mean if every one that was on the road
was three sheets in the wind the playing field would be
level, am I right ? Also, these fucking eco-Nazis that
want every one driving bicycles fail to observe one
important law of physics: the impact to the driver in a
wreck is basically Mass x delta V, meaning if you have
enough mass behind you ( ie 65 Caddy or 71 Lincoln ) and
you hit a compressible object ( ie anything except a big
oak tree or Janet Reno's ass ) you're gonna come out O.K.
I remember when I first heard the news that Bobby Kennedy
got shot. I popped open a couple of bottles of Veuve
Cliqout La Grande Dame champagne and dropped a gram of
good opiated hashish in the bong. An hour or so later me
and my buddies were hauling ass up Route 9W to hit some
road house just over the NY state line when the right
rear tire blew on my 64 Impala wagon. We went sailing and
clipped three or four 12" trees at the base before
coming to a rest in some sort of scenic overlook. The car
was basically totalled ( I used the engine and tranny
later in a drag car ) and as luck would have it there
were a couple of Arabs that had been celebrating the news
too and were too fucked up to drive and had more or less
pooped out at this overlook. We hooked up with them and
spent the night bar hopping from Alpine NJ to Nyack NY.
It was an evening I'll never forget, and if I had been
driving some fucking econobox I'd be dead.
All I've got to add is that the
American people would be far better off without the
faggot nitwit bureaucrats in Washington D.C.
George Kranz
UPI Croton-on-Hudson NY
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