We Begin Life by Complaining

Imagine for a moment, you are surrounded by warmth. Sounds nice. See that tube connected to your belly, yes, that thing. That tube is supplying you with everything your body needs. No its not beer, not yet. Now imagine someone reaching in with a pair of metal forceps and inviting you to follow.

Follow is not exactly the way you would put it. You have no choice.

"Hey, watch where you put those Forceps. How would you like me to take those forceps and squeeze your mmmm? You wouldn't like it either, would you?"

So in place of the forceps, a hand appears and guides your head out.

"Don't pull so hard. My head will come off if you keep pulling. And watch my shoulders. No, they don't turn on a dime. I thought you were supposed to pull me out two months from now.  How about just pushing me back in and it will be our little secret. I'll just come out when I am ready. Do you think it would be too much if I stay here for another eighteen years? No, a little too long, you think?"

You feel a force behind you, pushing you out of your warm, cozy room with no view. Turning around you see nothing but a wall getting closer. "MMM, how can that be?"

"Okay, if you insist," you say to the hand. But I promise you if you try to twist my head off like a cap on a cheap bottle of wine, I'll gum your finger to death."

The hand guides you past the rumble strips and the speed bump. As your head comes out of the dark, you see something bright. Having been in a dark room for the past nine months, anything would look bright.

"The feet, remember the feet. They are attached to me and I want them. Don't even think of tickling them. I have nine months of poop and I know how to use it. That's better. Now what do you want me to do? Cry? What is a cry? What does a Cry sound like?"

Then the hand slaps your rear end and you cry.

"Hand, did you slap me? I thought we had a verbal agreement. As soon as I can figure out what a lawyer is, I'm going to get one. I'll see you in court."

"What do you mean it won't hurt a bit? It hurt like heck. How would you like someone to cut off your feeding tube while you were awake. You could have at least offered me a beer."

You open your eyes and see people in masks.
Someone is saying "He's Cute.  Does he have all this fingers and toes?"

"Yes, I think I do, thank you. But would someone turn off the bright.  I really got used to the dark.  Would someone please push me back into my little room. I was happy there. Who is making all that noise?  I have never heard anything like it before in my life.  What do you mean, it's me.  How can it be me?  I don't even know what crying is.  Tell you what, push me back into my room with no view and we can forget any of this ever happened.  Would someone please reconnect my feeding tube!"

A little Story

This ends the saga of a young lad trying to find his way in the big city.
He finds a wiser woman who knows show to please him.
They settle down, have kids.
And live happily ever after until his mother finds him and tells him the woman he married is his evil older sister.

Help is On The Way

Imagine for a moment, you feel a little pressure in your chest. You think it will go away. But the pressure is now pain and you wish the elephant would get off your chest. The little elephant has invited mom and dad elephant to join him on your chest. Your left arm and your jaw are really hurting now.

Your significant other, calls 911. The dispatcher says help is on the way.
The fire engine arrives.
"Where is the ambulance?"
"We don't have a driver for it."
"When is the medic unit coming?"
"Oh, the medic unit was transferred to another station. But they should be there in 20 minutes!"
But you need not worry. You'll probably be dead long before that. Brain cells start to die after four minutes.

Prince Georges County is hurting for money. All departments are hurting for money. And all departments have to make budget decisions. The Prince Georges County Department of Fire and EMS has decided that when paid medics and firefighters are on furlough or need to use sick leave, the department will not bring in extra staff to man the equipment.

The department also claims that service will not be compromised. Does the Fire and EMS department have a Crystal ball to know where and when a fire or an accident is going to occur? If a department has two to three paid staff from 7Am to 3PM who drive and man the ambulance and engine, how are those units going to respond when there are no drivers?

In just a couple of minutes, a little fire can become a very large fire. If your house is on fire during the day, the fire department may or may not arrive in time. If your house is on fire at night and you are lucky enough to live near a volunteer department, you will have more of a fighting chance for them to save your home!

If you are having a heart attack during the day, good luck! If the medics arrive in time to keep you from becoming a vegetable, count yourself lucky that no one was on sick leave or furlough.

I feel that cutting the budget of the Fire and EMS department is wrong. Lives and properties are going to be lost. The county must give back the casino and bingo nights at the volunteer firehouses. The county must make sure that the fire departments have safe and reliable equipment to fight fires and save lives.

The Prince Georges County fire department says that this year alone, they are $500,000 over budget in overtime.

Just wait until Prince Georges County is sued for loss of life or property. That $500,000 will be like a drop in the bucket compared to the lawsuits.

The next time you call 911 and the operator says that help is on the way, ask if the operator will put that guarantee in writing!

An Almost Perfect Lawn

During my walks in the morning and at night, I have noticed that many lawns look, well, how can I say this without hurting too many feelings, quite bad. There I said it. But fellow citizens who pour way too much money, time and sweat into making your lawns look like a golf course, there is an answer.

First off , your lawn is not located on a golf course. Your lawn does not even look like a golf course. Actually, there are a couple of lawns that have large areas of nothing which may have been grass at one time but now the owners are growing dirt!

There is no reason to cut your grass so short. If you had the grass of a golf course, you could cut it nice and short! But you don't, so don't cut it short.

Your grass will be much happier if you let it grow. Set your mower at three inches or higher!
The grass blades will shade the soil, little pests will not feast on your grass and your soil will not be rock hard. Ever notice how the squirrels are not digging in your yard anymore. Ever try to dig through rock hard soil with your claws?

And when you water your lawns, try to water just your lawns. Watering the street will not grow more street! You are paying the water bill so make sure the water stays on your property.
Your grass needs the water in the morning and not at night. If you want to grow your own brand of mold and fungus, then water at night.

You need to water before the grass begins to wilt. If you can see evidence of tracks on the grass after you have walked over the grass, it's time! If your soil is close to resembling rock, then you will need to water to a depth of four to six inches. About 600 gallons of water spread over 1,000 feet will equal one inch. Your lawn will need 4-6 inches of water. Then do not water again until your grass tells you.

Your once shredded wheat lawn will be the envy of the neighborhood.

But if you don't have the time or water, then I have a long lasting solution for you.
Dig down about four inches. Place the dug up dirt around your foundation, so when it rains next time, the rain does not end up in your basement. Make sure you slope the dirt away from and not to your foundation.

Then have your favorite contractor lay four inches of green concrete where your lawn was located. You will not have to water it, ever again. And if any weeds break through the four inches of green concrete, let them be because they earned the right of passage to be in your green lawn.

Permission to Engage

Permission to Engage

by AH Garroway

Deep inside a Colorado Mountain sits a super secret military installation known only to the military and the local residents. The situation room is buzzing as dozens of uniforms race from console to desk and back again. Telephones are ringing off the hook.

General Butcher stands in the middle of the chaos and calmly views the five live feed monitors. Ten minutes ago, a commander on the ground reported an increase in enemy presence. Suddenly there was more than just a presence, the troops were surrounded. No longer calm, the commander began yelling for help.

"Christ, where did they all come from?" the ground commander yelled.

"John, settle down. There is no use your getting all worked up. I'll get you out," Butcher replied.

"Cut the crap, Jack. We are in deep shit."

General Butcher calmly walked to another bank of screens, one of  them showing a football game. Butcher stared at the soon to be ex-colonel. The football game disappeared from the screen.

"John, I've dispatched a shitload of jets to your location. They will be there in five."

An aide passes Butcher a note.

"Are you sure? Did she say it was important?"

"Yes Sir!"

Butcher glances at the screens showing the chaos on the ground and picks up the red phone.

"Daddy, I think Bob is going to give me an engagement ring. He has that look in his eyes."

"Honey, can't this wait? I am rather busy right now."

"Daddy, I tried mom but she is at the spa with her friends. I didn't know anyone else to call."

"What can I do?"

"Daddy, can you check him out and make sure he doesn't have any skeletons in the closet."

"I'll need something concrete. Can you lift his driver's license?"

"I have his social security number."

"I won't ask how you got the number. I'll check and call you back in a couple of hours."

"No, Daddy. That will never do. I'm calling from a stall in the ladies room. I need to know now if he is the one. If you really loved me, you would drop whatever you're doing and do this little thing for your daughter."

"All right sweetheart. I'll call you in three minutes."

"You promise, daddy?"

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"Sergeant, I need you to run this social security number and see if there are any red flags."

"Yes, Sir."

"Okay, boys and girls. I need an update on the situation on the ground and in the air. And I need it now," Butcher yelled. When he yelled, everyone acted.

The sergeant hands Butcher a printed page. Butcher scans the page.

"Sergeant, get my daughter on the line!"

"General, air support is over the target. They are asking for "Permission to Engage. The ground commander says the enemy has broken through the barbed wire fence and is quickly approaching. He wants to know what to do?"

"Sweetheart, his file is clean except for a couple of unpaid parking tickets. There is a warrant for his arrest for twenty-seven books which are overdue at the library. Other than that, he is a just fine. He does know that if he hurts you in anyway, I will rip out his throat."

"Thank you daddy. Does this mean I can accept his engagement ring?"

"General, air support wants to know if they have "Permission to Engage?"

"Hold on sweetheart."

"Tell air support, they have Permission to Engage."

"Sweetheart, you have Permission to engage."

"Thank you daddy. And congratulations."

"Congratulations?"

"You're going to be a grandfather in seven months."

Please Slow down or Else

This is an open letter to all drivers who speed and do not stop at the stop signs in University Park, Maryland. If you are one of the few who do stop and do not speed, congratulations!

I have observed newspaper delivery persons speed through the stop signs and race as though they had to be at a real job by 5 am.

Some of the UP residents( I know who you are) have even flown through the stop signs as they talked on their cell phones or yelled at their children in the back seat. To them, I say shame on you. You are not giving your kids a very good example of being a careful driver.

Of course there are several drivers who use our streets as a cut through to Adelphi Road. Young, old, it does not matter!

I have tried to control my anger. But now something must be done.

I have contacted the supplier for the static lines on aircraft carriers. If you recall, the static line catches the jets as they land on postage stamp size runways in the ocean. I'm still working out the logistics of how to lay the line without tripping up local joggers. I'm looking at either placing the line between two trees or digging a trench and laying a hook connected to the static line with mouse trap. Then when the car speeds through an area, the hook grabs the first axle it comes in contact with and the car stops. I would suggest that you start wearing your seat belt and are not drinking a cup of hot coffee because cars have been known to flip over!

I have also contacted a company which sells retractable jersey barriers. The black barriers would lay just below the road surface, waiting for its prey to just go over the speed limit. Then the barriers would leap out and stop the speeders or the non stopping stop sign runners. The barriers would drop below the road surface until the next law breaker appeared.

My other thought is to connect a fire hose to a nearby hydrant. I know how to use a fire hose and nozzle. Gives a new meaning to a car pool.

You have a choice.

You can stop at all stop Signs.

You can Slow down.

Or you can wear your beach attire while speeding through University Park. It's up to you!

Follow this link:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_5ZwbDj7sQM

to see how others are coping with speeders in their neighborhoods!

Just a Little Snow

Work was long and a pain.
Customers wanted me to do this and
That and they wanted it now.
They all wanted me to drop what I was doing
Because they had call me.
They were more important than the guy before.

Punched out at 5:30pm.
Started the car
Looked at the fuel gauge.
Had better get some gas
Or I would have a long walk
From nowhere to
Somewhere.

Stopped at the gas station
Five pumps were not working
Three were.
I had my choice of diesel or high test.
Since I don’t use diesel, I chose high test
Paid way more than I do in a month for one
Tank of gas.

Paid the woman
Behind the three inch thick glass.
Had to wait while she finished chatting with
Someone on the telephone.
She did not even say thank you.

Got back into my car.
Radio said that there was a big snowstorm coming.
I looked at the gray sky.
Suddenly the air turned colder.

Traffic was a bear.
Everyone was trying to get
Out of town.
Except me,
And about a dozen other fools.

Saw a couple of fools trying to drive
While talking on the cell. Drive or talk
But don't do both at the same time

I don’t care how careful people
Say they are.
Driving is a full time job.
Pull over and answer the phone
Or call from the curb.
An accident can happen as the driver
Looks away or down to the keypad.

Finally made it to the firehouse.
Pulled next to the Harley.
Locked the car.
Walked to the front door
And entered my code on the pad.
Nothing happened.
Cleared the pad and tried
Again.
This time, there was a click
And I turned the knob.

The engine room was hotter than a steam room.
Checked my gear.
Someone had put a water-balloon in my right boot.
Just what I did not need.
Pulled out the balloon and dropped it into the
Trash can.

Checked out the ambulance.
Engine purred.
All the lights worked
For a change.
Even the left brake light worked.
During the last shift, the ambulance and the engine
Had been transferred to another firehouse in another county.
Apparently the driver had returned to the house too
Late to fill the tanks.
I had one full tank out of two.

“Cap, I’ll be at the pump if you need me,” I told the captain.
“Bob, take Timmy with you and when you’re done
Pick up some dinner.
The list is at the watch desk.”
Tim was in the front seat before I could page him.
He and I always got along
Unlike some of the other EMTs.
I opened the bay doors
And we drove out onto the apron.
I looked in my rear view mirror as the bay door
Closed.

Drove a hundred feet and turned into the police
Lot. They have two pumps.
Put the nozzle in the tank
Punched in the station code.
Selected the grade and
Began to pump.
Waited for the receipt
It never printed.
Made a note to call the county.

The evening air was getting colder
I felt something wet, touch my nose.
Then another something and another.
Snow flurries were beginning to show themselves.

We drove to the grocery store and parked at the curb.
I know I shouldn't have but if we got a call,
I didn't want us to kill ourselves as we ran
Across the ice covered parking lot.
Tim took the portable and I grabbed a cart.
We went inside.
I turned to the right and Tim went straight down the aisle.
Since I had the list
I had no idea where Tim was going.

I got a gallon of milk.
Biscuit mix, pound of butter.
Approaching the meat counter, my pager went off.
Heading to the front door, I saw Tim already in the unit.

“Did you catch the address?” I asked.
“It’s the Miller farm. Someone has a stomach-ache.”
Turned on engine and emergency lights. Put unit in drive
Then stomped on the brakes.
Some moron had decided to pull in front of me as I was
Pulling out.
I glared but they did not
See me.
They left their car at the curb and went inside.
Wish there was a cop here.

Snow is falling harder now.
Windshield wipers are trying to clear the snow
The storm came out of nowhere, the man on the
Radio explains.
He says we are in for a big one.
Great, I say to myself
But I guess it was not all to myself
Tim asks me what I meant.

Road is getting slippery
I can feel the unit slip
Here and there
I don’t need this unit to slip
When we get back to the station
I will have to put chains on it.
I hate putting chains on this unit.

I turn down the road leading to the Millers
Farm.
What goes down must come up.
I feel the tires leave the asphalt and
Bite into the mud and gravel.
I pray there is more gravel than mud.

I tap the brakes and we begin to slide.
"Do something," Tom yells in my ear.
I don't even look at him.
We are sliding toward a tree.
Not tonight.
I say a short prayer.

Suddenly we are not sliding anymore.
We are back on the muddy road.
The tree waves to us as we pass.

Mr. Miller stands at the bottom of the hill.
I hope we can stop and not stop on him.
We stop.
Tim's color is coming back from white.
"Nice driving, Bob!

Tim grabs the small jump bag and I pull the
radio and O2. I hit the destination button
on the dash so that dispatch knows we
have arrived.

Mr. Miller leads us up the snow covered walk.
I have never seen him without a pipe in his mouth.
He is puffing on the pipe as he holds the storm door open.

"Up the stairs," Miller says.
I turn and look at Tim.
The steps lead almost straight up.
Not much room for a stretcher.
We get to the second landing and the stairs turn sharply to the right.
The stretcher will definitely not work!
And there is barely a wisp of light on the steps.

Miller has turned his attic into a spare room.
The roof beams are exposed.
I nod to Tim.
He is taller than me.
And its cold in the attic except for a space heater which is not doing
much good.

Our patient screams from under a pile of blankets.
Either there are too many blankets piled on her middle or she is
pregnant.
She screams again and reaches for my arm.
Tim is already on the radio.
"I can't get dispatch."

"You won't be able to get anyone until you get up on the
hill," Mr. Miller says with a noticeable snicker.

"Tim, go ahead and get the Reeves," I start to say but
Tim is already going down the steps. It's good that
we know each other and can almost read each others
mind.

Pulling a light from my jump bag, I reach for the blanket.
A hand with sharp nails grabs my arm.
"I don't think I want this baby," she yells.
"You take it."

I hope my department issued jacket will keep her nails from
drawing my blood.
I hear some cursing as Tim misses a step and falls.

"You okay?" I yell.
"Yea," Tim yells back.
"Did you start the engine?"
"Engine and heater going full blast," Tim answers.

"What's your name?"
"Jean... Oh it hurts like a mother."
"My name is Bob and the guy crawling up the steps is Tim."
She gives a little laugh.
"Jean, I'm going to check and see how dilated you are."
I pull on the latex free gloves, raise the blanket and look.
"Tim, we need to get going."

Tim unrolls the Reeves Stretcher and lays it flat on the floor
next to our patient. Someday I would like to shake the hand
of the person who invented the Reeves Stretcher. For now,
I have to accept that it works and will help us get our
patient down the stairs.

Tim pulls two lights from his jump bag. Lights attached to a head band.
"When did you get those babies?"
As Tim opened his trap to tell me, Jean screams.
Not just a little scream but a window jarring, sound breaking scream.

We each put a lamp on.

Nice way to see our way.

Keeps our hands free.

Sorta of.

Our hands will be occupied with the stretcher and the, crap.

What are going to do about the O2 Bottle and the jump bags?

Wish we had the engine company with us.

They could carry the patient for us.

And we would bring up the rear with our gear.

"You boys need a hand? Mr Miller asks.

"Yes, sir we do. Could you bring down the bags and the O2 Bottle?"

"I'll do that for you. You just make sure that my Jean gets to the hospital. My sister would kill me if her daughter gave birth, here."

"Thank you sir," I add.

"Jean, we are going to roll this stretcher under you. Just let us do all the work. Then we are going to carry you down the stairs and outside to our unit."

Tim places an open blanket on the Reeves. I roll Jean slightly towards me and Tim pushes the Reeves under her body. Then I roll her back and she is lying on the stretcher. Tim hands me two emergency blankets which are made of lightweight space age silver coated plastic which reflect a great deal of body heat back to the patient.

I quickly cover her and tuck the free ends under her. Then I wrap the wool blanket over her as well. One strap over her ankles and one across her chest and she is secure.

We lift the stretcher and Tim goes toward the stairs

first.

"Don't fall, okay, Jean says.

We all laugh.

Somehow we carry her down to the second landing without a hitch.

Now comes the tricky part.

We need to stand the stretcher almost on its end without losing the patient.

"Jean, this is going to feel a bit awkward for you. We need to almost stand

you on your feet so we can turn the corner. Just bare with us for a few."

As Jean says, okay, she has a contraction.

"Now, Tim."

Tim puts down his end and I spin around the corner. Jean is screaming with pain so the sudden difference in the level of the stretcher does not seem to bother her.

She stops screaming as we near the bottom of the steps.

"Almost there Jean. We're going to put the stretcher down, so we can open the door."

As we begin to lower the Reeves, Mr. Miller appears, and swings open the doors to the outside.

Tim steps backwards off the step and hits a patch of ice.

His shoe zigs a little and the Reeves tilts slightly but we do not drop our

patient.

The little snow is now a frigging blizzard.

We reach the unit.

Mr. Miller has opened the back door of our unit.

Hot air is pouring out into the cold night.

As Tim steps up the rear step, his head bounces off the door frame.

He shakes his head.

"Okay?"

"Yea."

We now have Jean in the unit.

Somehow she looks less scared.

Tim checks her vitals again.

And he checks to see if she has dilated some more.

"Let's move this bus, Bob."

I leave Tim and our patient in the back.

I close the rear door.

And tap it twice.

Just for good luck.

As I get into the drivers seat, a glaring pair of high beams

fill my windshield followed by a blast of an air horn.

Someone taps on my window.

It's Mr. Miller.

"I thought you could use some help. I called my friends

in the highway department. They sent two snow plows, filled to

the brim with sand and salt. There is a state trooper at the top of the hill

to get you to the hospital."

"I thought you said there was no reception down here," I

answer.

"I used the telephone. You know we do have telephones even down here."

This time I smiled.

"The plows will lay a path of salt and sand. They said you would know not

to get too close to them. I would suggest you stay down here until

they get to the hill top. They have chains.

You don't!"

I could not argue with the man.

He was right.

The plows swung around and like a hot knife

cutting through ice cold butter, the plows

cleared a vehicle wide path for us.

Just to make sure I kept the sliding factor

to a minimum, I shifted into low.

Slowly I drove up the once icy road as easily as if

it was a clear day in August.

The state trooper took the lead, followed by the

two plows driving side by side.

And I brought up the rear.

"How you guys doing back there?" I asked.

"I don't know if we are going to make it to the hospital, Tim yelled back to me. There was a

bit of panic in his voice.

"We have a kid with a lot of hair trying to break out."

I knew what he was seeing.

"Unit 239, do you copy?"

Damn, I forgot to call dispatch when we got to the top of the hill.

"Unit 239, is transporting a very pregnant twenty three year old female who is going to have a baby sooner than later. Baby is crowning. We are about four minutes away."

"Unit 239, we copy. Is baby four minutes away?"

"Tim, how soon before Jean has a new member of the family?"

"Four minutes."

"Unit 239 to dispatch. We are four minutes away from the hospital. Baby might appear sooner than four."

"The hospital has been notified. Good luck Unit 239!"

I yell back to Jean.

"How are things going Jean?"

"Just fucking fine, Bob."

"On a scale from one to ten, how is your pain?"

"Ever try to shit a watermelon, Bobbbbbbb?"

"Try to hang in there a little longer. We have just turned on to the hospital grounds."

The two plows have suddenly spilt off to either side of the parking lot. I see the state police car up ahead. The state cop veers to the left as I pull Unit 239 into the ER tunnel.

I put the unit in park and as I get out of my side, the ER automatic sliding door opens and I am greeted by a half dozen people in white.

As I open the rear door, I am greeted by the sound of new little person of the world crying out her tiny lungs.

One Last Picture

     “Frank, do you have any idea what time it is?”

     “I’m sorry I woke you, Grace.”  

     “What is so important that you had to wake me out of a sound sleep? Were you caught again by the railroad police? Didn't you get all your permits before you left? I know you love taking pictures of graffiti on the side of rail cars but one day you’re going to get yourself in so much trouble, you’ll…”  

     Frank moans very loudly. There is the sound of sirens getting louder. She also hears some other voices.  

     “Frank, what’s wrong?”  

     An unfamiliar voice yells, “We’re going to need some more lights and find out where the hell is the copter.”  

     “Frank, tell me what’s wrong. What’s going on and who are those people? Where are you?”

     Suddenly Frank screams into the cell-phone as pain racks his body.

     “Hold on Frank. The doctor said you could have all the painkillers you wanted. Here, this should help,” as the medic adds morphine into the IV in Frank’s arm.  

     “Grace, I called to tell you I love you and I’m sorry about the…. THE PAIN, DO SOMETHING ABOUT THE PAIN. I CAN’ TAKE IT ANYMORE,” Frank screams.  

     The medic injects another bolus of morphine into the IV. As the morphine finally kicks in, Frank drops the cellphone to the gravel, wet with blood.. A medic lifts the cell to his ear.  

     “Hello, my name is Isaac. I’m one of four medics with your husband. We are doing everything we can to keep your husband as comfortable as possible. There are two doctors on line with one of the other medics.”  

     “What is wrong with my husband?” Grace asks as she sits up and leans against the headboard.  

     “Apparently he was taking pictures between two railcars. There was not much room between the couplers. The engineer called us as soon as he heard the screaming. We were on the scene within minutes. Can I call you Grace?”  

     “You’re worrying me.”  

     “Grace, he has massive internal injuries. The couplers are acting like a tourniquet on his body. Right now, he is not feeling any pain.”  

     “Isaac, what are you trying to tell me?” Grace asks as she grips the phone with both hands.          

     “Grace, what do you think I’m telling you? “ the medic asks.  

     “Are you saying that when the couplers are removed, Frank will die. Oh God, NO. Can’t you do something else? Please, please.”  

     “Grace, hold on a second.”  

     Grace hears another voice say there is  more hemorrhaging.  

     “Grace, he wants to talk to you.”  

     “Grace, I’m so sorry I woke you but I wanted to tell you that I love you so much and always will.   If I hadn’t wanted to take one last picture, I never would have gotten myself into this mess.”  

     “I love you so much, Frank..”  

     Isaac yells, “His pressure is dropping too damn fast. Open all the lines.”  

     “Frank, Frank.”

   


   
   

Changing the Current Laws on The books

     I have several ideas which could in effect, reduce the amount of cars on the road, take aggressive drivers off the road, make more drivers always obey the rules of the road and put money toward law enforcement in both the state and counties.

     In a nutshell, my ideas are to streamline the moving violation tickets and get aggressive drivers off the road, once and for all!!!

     Everyone who wants a driver's license would sign a form which says that if they break the law too many times, they will forfeit their vehicle and their driver's license. 

     The first ticket is a warning unless an injury or death has occurred.   If a death occurs, they go to the third level right a way,

     The second ticket is a fine of $500.00 

     If the driver makes it to the third level, they get to turn in their license and turn over their car/commercial vehicle and their title to the police who will happily sell the vehicle and split the money with the state. There might be some problems if the driver is caught breaking the law in a county or state vehicle.

     Too many drivers think it is their right to drive anyway they want.

     Driving is a privilege and if drivers will not obey the laws, then it should be the government's right to take away the driving privilege!

     If the driver gets to step three, he or she will not be able to get another license for at least 5 years. The above purposed law would help to get aggressive drivers off the road!

Besides, Hummers and BMW's bring a pretty good dollar when sold.

 

Living Longer

Living longer

I would like to make a challenge to everyone who works or lives in Maryland. I challenge each and every person to get some control in their life and exercise. How many of you say there is not enough hours in the day? How many hours a day do you spend doing video games or playing on the computer? You have to make the time to exercise. Yes, pushing away from the table is a kind of upper body exercise but I had in mind something like walking.

Walking? Try walking slowly. No, you need not do twenty miles. Try a block or a half a block. Gradually build up the number of blocks or miles you do. If you need to walk in the street, make sure the gas guzzlers can see you. Wear something very bright if walking in the early morning or evening hours. Nothing tends to ruin a walk, like getting run over by a car!

Yes, walking is something people did before they were cars or horses. Walking is not that hard unless the only walking you do is to go to the snack machine and load up on empty calories. Most people can walk. People who deliver the mail have been known to walk. Ducks walk. So why can't you? If you're not sure about walking, speak with your doctor. Your doctor might just say that walking could lower your blood pressure, reduce the size of the spare tire forming around your middle, just make you feel better! Exercising just might make you live longer, too.


However, living longer has its drawbacks or advantages. Your friends who did not exercise are dead. You can continue to collect social security. You can write letters to the editors of local newspapers and complain about the insane abuse of government spending and general government stupidity. You can see your grandchildren grow up and hopefully not turn out like your children. You can tell people what you really think. And the IRS will thank you for living longer by collecting their share of your tax dollars.
I don't want to be facing my maker and say, "Gee, I wish I had exercised more!"

I exercise because I am, mmm, not as thin as I was when I was younger. I also exercise because my wife wants me to live as along as possible and I love my wife.

Too many people put off things which are uncomfortable. Exercise and having root canals are two things. One will hear: 'I'll do it tomorrow!"

There are three things we can do when we die.


We can look up old friends.
We can sleep a lot.
And we can exercise.

"Exercise now, live longer, die later!"

The Olive and Water Diet

To all of our new customers and some of our old ones ,


I'm sure that after all the lawsuits have been dismissed, we will be able to sit down and have a good laugh about our altered diet. Since the buck stops with me, it was not my fault. There was a glitch in our system. We state very clearly that we are not responsible for typos and clearly this was a typo.

Besides, who in their right mind would drink eight gallons of water a day? Come on! You should have known we meant eight cups of water, not eight gallons of water!
When we realized that a mistake had been made, we had already sold over two million copies of our new diet. It would not have been good economics to pull the rest of the copies off the shelves.

Did you see all the reviews before the little mistake was discovered? Okay some of the reviews were not so nice. And one reviewer even had the balls to claim I had made this diet up! All of my diets have been looked at by several well known doctors who were at the bottom of their class.

We put an apology in the local issue of our paper as soon as our lawyer returned from his three month vacation. Perhaps you missed the apology. We spared no expense to make sure the apology was the smallest and hardest to find in the four page weekly newspaper.



The original diet has been a huge success for us. Eight cups of olives and eight quarts of water a day. What could be easier?

Countless millions have lost tons of weight.

Of course, my stock in four olive companies has tripled.



If this diet did not help you lose all that weight, I have a great news for you.

Next month, I'm introducing a brand new diet which will trim that extra weight right off.

But if you want to prepay for this beautifully bound four page book with gold trim and a personal letter signed by me, just send a check made out to "Cash" for $45.95 which includes shipping and handling to the address below.

The Only Solution to Losing weight

Gather round boys and girls.
Have you bought every quick weight loss book you could find in the grocery store check out line? Ever wonder why these tantalizing little expensive books sell for so much? Did you ever read some of the pages of each book and wonder why they all sound the same? Well, that's a very good question/s.

I'm not going to bore you with a lot of technical explanation about losing weight or why you need to keep your waist line down. You know all the answers because you have bought each and every one of those stupid little weight loss books. You have tried all the diets and have stuck with them for a week or less. And sure, you have lost the weight. But then you have gained it all back. And back to the grocery store to get a pint or two of your favorite low fat or more fat ice cream. And you have sat in front of the computer or the TV and slowly finished your treat. Because you have earned the right to eat this treat because you have been a really good girl or guy and you made it through the week and you lost a couple of pounds. And you deserve the reward, don't you. And you tell yourself, that as soon as you finish the ice cream, you will go back to the diet. But your reward is really not that bad, is it?
Because if you were really depressed, you would have opened the box of candy you were saving for a really depressing day. The box of candy with the drop dead, cream filled something which would really make you feel a lot better right now. And what is a little extra reward anyway? You deserve it.

But wait.
Don't reach for that box of pretty stale candy. If candy is stale, does that mean there are less calories in it? Does that mean I can eat more of the stale candy and not get anymore calories?

I need you to focus for a minute.
Push that box of opened candy away. Further away, please.
Let's go into the bathroom together.
Now you get on the scale.
My ears, my ears!!
I should have told you to close the windows.
Now the cops are going to come and you will have a lot of explaining to do. And when the cops see the open containers of eaten, thawed ice cream and the opened box of really stale candy, they will understand. But they won't smile or snicker. Isn't there a treat called snicker? And the cops will ask you to close the windows the next time you step on the scale. And the cops might want to know why there are two people in the bathroom, with one on the scale and one watching. I mean, is watching really wrong?

The scale must be wrong will be your answer. So we will move the scale over and I will put my hands over my ears while you look down and respond the same way.
I will lead you back to the kitchen, holding the box of still opened slightly stale candy. And we will sit down.
And I will ask you if you are ready to lose weight once and for all. And you will say that you will do anything to lose weight. And I will ask you to get out your check book. And I will tell you the answer to your problem will cost you $29.95. And you will gladly write the check.

And I will reach into my diamond studded leather bound, steel mesh, man bag, remove a neatly printed embossed 14 point type 4x6 inch card and place the card, face down.
I will ask you not to turn the card over until I am at the door.
I will grab my man-bag and walk briskly to the door. As I reach for the door knob, you will turn over the 4x6 inch card with 14 point embossed letters.

"EAT LESS"