WHAT THE FRUCK, MOTHERS??!!??

You, REALLY REALLY REALLY need to explain this one to me:

WHY has it become The Thing To Do, to change baby's diaper in the minivan, and then toss the dirty one out onto the parking lot?

It must be THE THING TO DO...... each of the three parking lots I was on yesterday had a FOULED disposable diaper laying within 10 feet of where I parked/walked/stored my cart in the little cart corral.

I can't imagine how many more there must have been, if I could see one at each stop....

The Walmart store;

My first diaper for the day- I parked, got out of my truck, noticed this amorphous, dark,vaguely moving object on the lot surface about 8 feet from my parking space choice. I couldn't figure out what it was....until a swarm of the flies that were covering the surface flew up into the air,(which explained to me why the surface looked to be moving), and exposed the leaky,ruffly edge of the leg opening enough for me to identify the object visually, and by the smell.

I moved my truck to a different lane.

The Dollar General Store;

Diaper number 2, no flies, just an artistic display of the fact that baby's urinary tract is fully functional and that Mommy is saving on diaper money via the "Mileage Strategy".

The Tractor Supply Company Store;

 C'mon!

The TSC parking lot????

One would think that one would be SAFE from trashy diapers in this parking lot of all parking lots.

Real Men shop here.

Now, let's just say, in the interest of tolerance and Being a Good Sport, that these are examples of Performance Art.(If it's called "Performance Art", you can get away with ANYTHING, ((including starving some dog to death in a gallery corner, or sit,naked, on a stool out on the sidewalk while reading Marcel Proust aloud in a the voice of a sweat-bee)), the worst that will happen is that people will look away in embarrassment, AND one can assign points to the "piece".)

Let's critique these Works On Display....

Mother One receives a great number of merits for her work.

Composition was outstanding, utilizing MULTIPLE elements and mixing media, one of those pieces that had a very high,"I was repulsed but yet I could not look away", factor.

The flies made it for me.

This Mom also gets Bonus Points for GUILT recognition...she knew it was wrong, she new it was ugly. She tossed said Masterpiece onto the lot about as far from the storefront as one can get,(and still say you are on the same lot as the store, I always park out there so nobody can say it was me who rammed the OldFolksShoppingDayTour with my pickup truck and it's just possible that my truck,AND that lady's diaper, aren't actually visible on the security camera at this distance. I hate being watched), and I bet she drove away and parked a rather diplomatic distance away from her obje't de art.

Mother Two receives honourary mention for Working With Limited Resources and takes second for style- the diaper was prominently displayed, with a sort of Bourgeois nonchalance, about 8 feet from the square cement refuse bin on the front walk of the store. She also gets some major Sheer BALLZ points for being willing to display baby's bottom, and her arrogance regarding the litter laws, to the general public, as there is NO WAY that somebody didn't see what she was doing. 

 

The Third Diaper...what can I say?

Ultimate prize winner simply for the social and psychologic message being transmitted by this piece; "No one is safe, we are ALL the parents to our children, it IS a Global Village, TSC needs to have a Maternal Needs Aisle, so suck it up, Boys!" is what this project screams to me.

No more hanging about the TSC lot for a whiff of a purely testosterone laden atmosphere for me.........

THANX MOM!!!!!!

  

 

Stankass!

but, DAMN it is hotandhumid out there!

I got to say.

Maybe that fat guy on the bicycle had a strategy after all.

Why I DON'T have a gun in my glove-box:An Essay by a Marginally Deranged Frequenter of the I-71 Monday Morning Rush Hour Auto-Puckey Tournaments

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Because I would USE it.

There would, quite frankly, be dead people scattered all over the freeway.

Somebody named "Barbee",(who is  doing something that looks suspiciously like typing with a cellphone), would decide that the 1/2 car-length space between my front bumper and the rear of the vehicle I was following was roomy enough for her to dart across three lanes,(relatively empty ones), and jam her Hundae into,then, realizing she had gotten really much too close, must now slam on the brakes....

Yes, I admit it, I would flip open the glove box, slide out the old Glock,( I really don't know anything about guns or what kind I would have, but "Glock" sounds really sophisticated and European and smacks of violent panache, so I use it here as my glove-box weapon du jour), release the safety, and magically, there would appear a smoking hole in the back of Barbee's head, the pink MotoRazr2, (with it's half-read text message), would drop from her suddenly lifeless hand, and that Hundae would make an ironically graceful, slo-mo careen off into the left-hand guard-rail as Barbee slumped over onto the cupholder-CD rack console dealie. She would NOT be the wage earning mother of 5 lovely children, there would NOT be any disappointed parents/spouses/boyfriends/girlfriends/platonic friends/emotionally uninvolved boff-buddies/adult singles church groups to suffer her loss, and NO INNOCENT BYSTANDERS WOULD BE INJURED during the perpetration of her fatality. In fact, there would be applause for her demise from other commuters/fellow victims of her self-absorbed and careless driving style.
(And later, we would learn that Barbee had indeed been in the habit of testing her crack-cocaine and Ecstasy for poisons on the next-door neighbour dachshund, "Bootsie", so GOOD RIDDANCE.)

Since there are about 382 such occurrences of the "Barbee Scenario" EVERY Monday morning between 161 and Polaris....well, that's why the remark about dead people all over the freeway. (I thought this might have been an opening for the use of the word "hence", but I blew it with clumsy grammar and awkward phrasing...)
Persons noted to be balancing the daily crossword on the steering wheel while applying eye make-up in the rear-view mirror would be candidates for a good "Glocking".
Middle Management Businessmen who were observed to be crowding other vehicles onto the berm because they were having difficulty shrugging their corpulent, pasty, mole covered shoulders into their last-minute button-down while attempting to shave around the toasted half-bagel protruding from their maw...well they would snuff it, just to be fair to everybody else,(especially their secretaries).
Really Old People,(or anyone, really), who insist on pulling out into the fast lane and then driving at 15mph UNDER the speed limit.....well, you know the drill.

Anybody who drives for more than 2 miles with a turn signal on, BUT NOT TURNING, qualifies to have the offending blinker shot off the back of the vehicle.

And if I start to run out of bullets...I may have to start assigning points, in the interest of conserving lead and high-quality European gunpowder.


This could be more complicated than I thought.....

...but since I DON'T have a gun in the glove-box,
I guess I don't have to worry about it, not just now.
The 71 Northbound Horribly Discourteous Driving Club can remain blithe and perspiration-free.

Notice to Barbee; I may change my mind on this matter, so leave Bootsie alone, if you know what's good for you.
I still have the flame-thrower in the back-seat.