Adventures in Pedestrian-ing

I have to walk 6 blocks to reach the evening bus from work.  Pretty boring, right?  If only. 

Keep in mind, I'm an unbelievably law-abiding pedestrian.  Seeing a jaywalker get struck by a car, fly through the air, land on his head, and die will do that to you.  I also am a very defensive walker.  I watch for the drivers running red lights, the drivers texting, the drivers texting will petting their chihuahua and turning (it happened).

Even so, I can't completely avoid the crazies.  One of my favorites:  I'm crossing a five-lane road when I see a Mustang roaring up in the left turn lane - the left turn lane that will have her barreling into the lane I'm currently crossing.  I look at the driver, but she's too busy looking at an oncoming bus and guessing whether or not she can beat it without getting broadsided.

This is the point where I run for it.  As an additional "attention-getter," I frantically wave my hands in the air as I go - motion is pretty visible, right?

As my heel hits the sidewalk, I hear screeching tires behind me.  This woman, who was in such an insane rush 2 seconds ago, has found me so offensive she takes the time to stop, roll down her window, and scream:

"DON'T YOU F---ING WAVE AT ME!!!"

Who knows what she would have done if my blood had messed up her paint job.

Drawing and picture are (c)2012 A. M. Perkins.  All rights reserved.

The Anti-Mob Mentality

Why does the "mob mentality" only kick in when it's something bad?  If you drop to the ground from a heart attack, the more people there are around you the less likely it is you'll be helped.  Conversely, if there's a large crowd of people, the more likely it is a bad situation will get worse.

Maybe there should be posi-mobs walking around. They could yell things like "Tell someone you love them!" or "Take a minute to appreciate nature!"

 They could be just as loud and obnoxious as the mobs that develop for negative ideas - they'd just be using peer pressure for happier reasons.

The Nature of Spoilers

It seems most people fall into one of two camps:  the spoiler addict or the spoiler phobic.  Well, actually, there's also the "I couldn't care less either way" camp, the "I only care about certain movies" camp, etc., but I'm trying to keep it simple.

For the addict, the hunt for the next info nugget is one of life's great joys.  For the phobic, any scrap of info, no matter how small, sends them into paroxysms of agony.  "You spoiled that Johnny Depp's socks will be black in this movie instead of brown - YOU FIEND!!!"

There should be a shelf life for spoilers - for example, I don't think you can get mad about someone ruining the end of The Wizard of Oz (SPOILERS - It was all a dream!).  Others take a little too much joy in spoiling things the instant they come out.  "That was almost as awesome as when you found out that the detective was the killer. ...What, you haven't seen it yet?  Dude, the midnight showing ended 15 minutes ago."

Two of my friends encountered an even worse type - the simultaneous spoiler.  While watching The Avengers (in its second week out, mind you), a guy sitting behind them insisted on yelling out key lines and actions right before they happened.

Example (SPOILERS, obviously): When Capt. America is giving out orders to the team at the end, he turns to Hulk.  "And Hulk?" Cap says.  "SMASH!" yells the idiot behind them.  "Smash!" Cap repeats.  Idiot laughs.  "That was awesome!"

That's the kind of thing that makes me wish theaters had ejector seats.

Drawing and picture are (c) 2012 A. M. Perkins.  All rights reserved.

I Shall Prove the Moon Is Round!

I need to get paid to study something obvious. 


I mean, so obvious even a naked mole rat would be like, "Oh, yeah, I saw that coming from a mile away."


I read these studies where they discover amazing things - for example, I read a study on the feelings of prisoners kept at the Supermax prison.  In case you haven't heard of it, it's reserved for the worst of the worst, and the living conditions are less than ideal.


The prisoners they studied lived in cells where both the walls and furnishings are made of concrete, and they stayed there, alone, 23 hours a day.  Their one hour of recreation was in a gymnasium with windows pointing up - they never see earth or trees again.


The study's findings?  Prisoners kept in those conditions tend to be more depressed than prisoners in kinder conditions.


Wow.  And they got paid to find that out.


I seriously need a gig like that.


Drawing/Picture is (c) 2012 A.M.Perkins.  All rights reserved.

If She's Not a Cougar...

My very elderly (in her 90's) grandmother hasn't had her full mental faculties for some time.  While, unfortunately, this has allowed her more negative personality traits to break loose and run wild (rampaging racism, anyone?), it does provide some amusing anecdotes when another facet comes to the fore:

Her willingness to hit on any man, any time.

Last week my aunt - let's call her Alice - went to visit Grandma with some married friends in tow. The husband is in his early sixties.  Grandma knows they're

 married, but immediately starts patting his arm and openly flirting with him.

After a bit, she turns to the wife and say, "Don't worry.  I don't want to steal him from you.  I just want to use him for a while."

Alice says to the husband, "I believe that's what you call a cougar."

The husband's reply:  "At that age, I believe that's called a sabertooth."

Drawing is (c) 2012 A. M. Perkins. All rights reserved.