April 20th, 2005

static (transparent)

story time with Unka Jimbo (non sequitur)

As I'm walking out to my car after math 115 tonight, I see a cute chick in a black dress walking up.  She makes eye contact, I smile, she smiles, I break eye contact.  All pretty normal.  Then I'm looking up again, and she re-establishes eye contact and delivers a second smile.  Okay... still pretty normal.  Ish.  I guess I just got it goin' on tonight, or something.  Then she stops dead in the sidewalk, still smiling at me, and just swivels her head watching me as I'm walking by, so I stop next to her, and smile quizzically back at her - I'm waiting for her to say something at this point.  She isn't.  She doesn't.  For like, I kid you not, seven or eight seconds, she's just standing there giving me this smile and I'm smiling back but my smile is getting more and more "er, dubyoo tee eff mate?" and I'm about to say "no, sorry, you don't" because I'm thinking she's eventually going to deliver the "don't I know you from...?" line, and I'm sure I haven't met her before.

Finally she starts saying something about was I in this ... well, she was watching this crazy independent movie the other night... no, she guesses it couldn't be... but I look just like this guy in this movie... etc etc etc, and finally she figures out that the movie was Garden State, and apparently I'm the very spitting image of one of the dudes in that movie.  A stoner, apparently.  I tell her I know of the movie, I actually wanted to see it when it came out, but I never got around to it.  And she commands me to go see it.  Since I'm "in it."

College is just downright strange sometimes... but pleasantly so. =)
ask Uncle Louie

weird stories in the Snitch

So there's this local independent paper, the Snitch, which I really enjoy because it features a little broken-down-by-zip-code report on everything from the last week's crime blotter.  (Which a good friend of mine TOTALLY made an appearance in recently, haha!)  This sort of fills within me the void left by no more "sports page", which is what we called the part of the Plan of the Day where you heard about everybody that got sent to Captain's Mast (non-judicial punishment) the week before, back when I was in the Navy.

Of course they have other stuff; front-page articles, a regular column by a lawyer, another regular column by an ex-convict who talks about his jail and Hell's Angels experiences... it's kinda cool.  ANYway, in the last Snitch, the front page article was about some recent controversy over this homeless dude - who happens to be a wheelchair-bound double amputee - who the city sued for "operating a business without a license" 'cause he was wiping down hubcaps in Five Points.

Turns out that there's more to the story than that; this is one of those deals sort of like Al Capone getting charged with tax evasion instead of murder 'cause that's what they felt confident of actually pinning on him.  In particular, the dude's got a pretty long laundry list of violent sex offenses... none of which stuck, but after you get enough accusations, proven or not, people start to get a little leery, yanno?

The article went on to detail one of the more bizarre sexual assault accusations - some chick was walking around and encountered this guy, and - according to her - he dropped something and asked if she could help him with it (keeping in mind he's got no legs and is in a wheelchair), and when she leaned over to do so, he grabbed her by her necklace, punched her twice in the face, elbowed her in the chest... and she woke up half an hour later with her hands tied behind her back with her shoelaces, her pants and panties pulled down, and she had been "sodomized."

Is anybody else's bullshit detector going off, here?

Seriously, this shit kills me - people watch way too damn much schlocky TV and movies; it's amazing how many people think you can get "knocked out" as in completely unconscious and unrevivable just from getting hit once or twice.  Um, NO.  It's damn hard to knock somebody out, and it's more a matter of degrees than this instant thing where suddenly you're guaranteed completely unconscious for half an hour.  And when you do get knocked "out", usually you still pretty much know what's going on around you, you're just all greyed out and weak and can't really get your shit together.

So let's examine this for a second - we can assume that, sure, okay, this three foot tall legless dude managed to knock the chick out with two punches after convincing her to lean over... but wait, she remembers getting elbowed in the chest but DOESN'T remember getting her hands tied behind her back or, y'know, taking a high hard one in the shit-chute?  Say what?  Or is it supposed to be the elbow to the chest itself that "knocked her out" - so thoroughly that, again, a legless dude frantically humping her in the pooper wasn't enough to disturb her beauty rest?

Crazy.  I dunno what happened that night - whether she actually got raped but for some reason fucked with the story (to distance herself from it?), or whether nothing vaguely like that happened, or what - but it damn sure didn't go down the way it was described.  I dunno why people have such strong aversions to just telling the truth, y'know?