Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Celebrate by terrifying wildlife!

Florida has a weird relationship with fireworks.  Technically, any fireworks that fly and/or explode are illegal.

"That can't be" you say.  It's true my dear friends.

"Then why are there stands and even superstores that sell all kinds of awesome stuff that goes bang?" you ask.

That's where we get all Florida up in this bitch.  See, there's a loophole in the law.  In most places, if you have nuisance animals you may put out traps or a scarecrow or maybe even call an exterminator.  Not in Florida.  In Florida, you shell the bastards with artillery.  Flying and exploding fireworks are legal as long as you're using them to scare off nuisance animals or illuminating a railway.


Sources say that the loophole was put in place about 60 years ago, however, to my knowledge, widespread exploitation didn't start until the mid-1990's.  I can remember as a youth in the 80's having my firecrackers and bottle rockets confiscated by the po-po on more than one occasion.

Lets rewind to the mid 1990's and your truly notices a fireworks store on the side of the road.  Of course I stop in and start talking with the proprietor who reminds me of the one armed guy from The Simpsons (cigarette and all) but sounded like Joe Dirt.


This is when I learn about this glorious nuisance wildlife loophole.  Seriously, all you had to do to purchase these things was fill out a little form with name, address and sign saying you are going to use the fireworks to scare off nuisance wildlife.   The best part: they didn't check ID.  Of course, once I found out that no ID was required, all of my fireworks were bought by my good friends Heywood Jablomey and Dick Burns.

I was so giddy, I dropped about $100 on crap flappers, spleen splitters, honkey lighters and whistling kitty chasers.

So I make it home with the loot and start looking for nuisance wildlife and by this I mean my neighbor.  I started shelling him from my yard.  It was like the bombing of Dresden.

Those were the opening shots of a war that lasted years.  It got to the point that we had to sneak out of the house under cover of darkness just to get the mail or take out the trash if the other guy was home because the artillery is coming out.  When we weren't firing them at each other, we were blowing up fire ant beds.  When we ran out of fire ants in our yards, we blew up the ants in our other neighbors yards.

Hell hath no fury like a swarm of fire ants that was just launched into the air by an explosive device.  You learn to get out of the area quick style.

Sometime around 1999, my co-worker Jesse and I were working in Miami for a few weeks.  On the way down in our work van we decided to stop at a little tourist stand to grab a Coke.  You know the place.  Right off the interstate, sells bags of oranges and gator heads.  Like a Stuckey's, but Florida style.  Anyway, guess what they had...   FIREWORKS!  So Jesse and I buy a bunch of firecrackers and bottle rockets.  We are rolling down I95 dropping firecrackers out the window and giggling like morons.  Jesse was driving and I got the bright idea to fire a bottle rocket out the window.  

So I light the rocket and it goes off, but my aim must have been off because instead of going out the window it hit the frame and bounced right back into the van and proceeded to ricochet all over the place.  It finally ended up in the driver side foot well and blew up.  All of this is happening at 70 mph on the interstate.  We were laughing so hard at our stupidity and the sheer amount of smoke in the van that we had to pull over on the side of the road for a little bit.

Our ears were ringing and Jesse's pants were a little scorched but thankfully, thats the worst that happened during that stupid stunt.  It wasn't the first time I launched a rocket from a moving vehicle, but I don't think I'll do it again.

At least not on the interstate.

Criminal grossness may be an understatement

"I don't know where I am"
Say hello to Marisol.  She's a shoplifter.

"Big deal" you say, shoplifting is nothing special, who gives a shit?

Well kids, Marisol is something special.  I shit you not.  Very special.  You know how some survival experts say to play dead if confronted by a bear?  Well, Marisol has a very special defense against department store security guards.

When the guard confronted her about the items that she allegedly shoplifted, her fight or flight response kicked in.

Marisol shit her pants.

BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!

After shitting said pants, Marisol reached deep down into the back of her pants, grabbed a handful of brown matter and smeared it on the guards face.

HOLY SHIT!  SHE SMEARED POOP ON HIS FACE!!!


I would have completely lost my shit!


I'd like to publicly thank Tex for sending me this shit.  All you freaks go out and buy some Gerbing Heated Gear to keep your shit warm.  If you don't like it, Tex will run a vintage motorcycle race of your choice race in a sundress.   I suggest Vintage Days at Mid-Ohio for the best exposure.... and shit.  


Friday, December 19, 2014

That'll Teach Meemaw!

Meet Rachel Anne Hayes, kids.  Rachel bitch slapped her 72 year old grandmother in the face, repeatedly, for not accepting her friend request on FaceBook.   I don't know about you, but sometimes, I wish my grandmother couldn't see some of my FaceBook antics.

That's right, the old bag had it coming.



"Tampa TV station WFLA reports that alcohol was was a factor listed in Hayes’ arrest affidavit."



Well no shit.


Thursday, December 18, 2014

The Ghetto Carwash

Heres another story about the Infamous Dan and the fun we used to have working together.   Dan and I never got tired of tormenting folks.  After the Citrus County Whorehouse episode, we had to find another way to entertain ourselves.  We couldn't help it.

One of these, younger readers.
Our office was in what my grandfather affectionately referred to as "The HCA".  High Crime Area.  It was pretty bad.   The neighborhood behind the office had regular car-b-cues and it was nothing to watch crack dealers doing their thing.  No big deal, our office was secure enough.

There was a car wash across the street from the office.  Lots of unsavory characters hung out around the pay phone at that car wash.   Remember kids, this was still the days of pagers.  Most folks didn't have a cell phone.

We formed a plan.   I brought in binoculars and Dan risked his life to get the number for that pay phone.   The plan was simple.  We had a spotter and a caller.  We took turns calling the hookers and crackheads at the car wash.   We would also get the occasional random passerby to answer.  

We were friends with a few guys in an office on the same floor as us.  One day they decided it would be a good idea to walk to lunch.  Dan and I  call this super surly hooker that we had previously harassed at the pay phone and tell her that we were walking over and wanted an appointment.  It was perfect because one of the guys walking did have a cell phone and was using it.  

Due to our prior harassment, she was naturally skeptical.

"Look across the street.  See the (insert description of what he was wearing that day) guy...   That's me.  My name is Brian (it really was).  Me and the guys want to party."  
RuPaul is actually prettier.

Picture Rupaul with a giant blonde beehive wig on.  That's what this hooker looked like and she was mean as hell.

We hung up, sat back and waited.  She walked out to the sidewalk to meet Brian and co.  The look of bewilderment on his face was beautiful, but not nearly as great as the looks of "so how does this person know you?" from his coworkers.  

Words were exchanged, wild head and hand gestures were plentiful.  In the end, Brian got away physically unscathed but who knows what psychological damage he still carries with him to this day.  


He is probably less damaged than the crackheads.

We would call the crack enthusiasts on the pay phone and in our best Top 40 DJ voice tell them we are watching from a van and if they start dancing for the cars going by, the guy with the best moves would win $100.   It's a game of numbers.   Most of the time, they babbled incoherently, but once in a while, magic happened...






Yeah, we're going to hell.

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

I want to sit on this jury

Honestly, she scares me a little.
Yesterday, Heidi Creamer (no, it's not a stage name) was arrested or domestic battery for beating the shit out of her twin sister, Holly.

Why did she beat the shit out of her twin you ask?

Well, according to reports, the twins got into a brawl over a boyfriend and a vibrator.  Yes kids, you read that right.  A boyfriend and a vibrator.  Take a look at that picture kids.  She will mess you up.

I bet that vibrator runs off a 30cc 2-stroke chainsaw motor and comes with a crash helmet.

Here's how my warped little deficient brain pictures it:  Theres some sort of weird twin shit going on here and they share everything, including boyfriends and erotic massage equipment.  Suddenly it was Heidi's turn with the boyfriend and/or buzzing accompaniment and Holly didn't like it.  Twin cat fight ensues, the strongest and meanest of the twins wins and gets hauled off to the hoosegow.


That's the ticket!



Friday, November 14, 2014

Reader Roundup 11-14-2014

It's Friday kids, you know what that means.  Reader Roundup!  Woohoo!

Those women put the "ug" in fugly.
First up, we have these meatheads Swingin' for Jesus, sent in by Adam.  That's right folks.  Body building Christian swingers.  Let that sink in for a second.  I think those women may have a bigger one than me.  Woof!









WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER!!!   One of our new fans, Sarae, sent in this one about the old $3 and a chicken dinner in exchange for some booty.  If you think about it, there is a fine line, in this case, about $3, between prostitution and dating.  






Ribbed for her pleasure


Last, but certainly not least, Pat sent in this gem.  This MOTY candidate got caught on camera hiding a bottle of brandy up her not-so-private parts.


Wednesday, November 12, 2014

I hope the mayor of Ft Lauderdale gets herpes

The Ft Lauderdale police have arrested Arnold Abbott for feeding the homeless again. I hope the Mayor gets a venereal disease and the cops that actually arrested him should be flogged in the town square. Shame on them for carrying out such a ridiculous arrest. Ft Lauderdale has a real crime problem and they are going after a 90 year old man for feeding the homeless. Lets all take a moment to thank Mr Abbott for being a great human being and unleash a social media outrage towards the Ft Lauderdale authorities.

Friday, November 7, 2014

Reader Roundup 11/7/2014

It's Friday and that means we've got our semi-partially-regular Reader Roundup post!

First, this one sent in by the lovely and talented Diane.  This dude buys a foreclosed home and bought  WAY more than he bargained for...

A bunch of ya'll sent this one in.   Basically, a quadruple amputee is on the lam, armed and dangerous.  Something about that makes me laugh.

Next, we have drugs and lady parts.  Specifically, Jennifer Renee Crosby and the big ass bag of crack she hid in her vagina.  Thanks Greg!


Finally, Tex sent in the story about a woman who set her boyfriend on fire.  While drinking.  With nail polish remover.  I bet that's the most excitement the trailer park has seen since Bubba's meth lab blowed up.




Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Cleanup on aisle 12

So my good friend Tex pointed out that somehow, I forgot to post this up here last week. Thanks Tex! Now errybody get out there and buy some Gerbing Heated Gear from him. He's some kind of honcho over there, a fellow racer and all around good guy. Gerbing Heated Gear

So my good friend Tex pointed out that somehow, I forgot to post this up here last week.  Thanks Tex!  Now errybody get out there and buy some Gerbing Heated Gear from him.  He's some kind of honcho over there, a fellow racer and all around good guy.








Post by Dammit Florida.

Miller Time!

Hold on, gotta send a Snapchat

She will straight up shoot a bitch
It's a story as old as time.  Bored rich chick finds boy toy.  Everybody in town knows about the affair except the husband, blah blah blah.

Well, except this was in Florida and it was weird enough to make it here.

So, Andrew is banging Mishay, the wife of a pro golfer.  I know what you're thinking.  What's so weird about that?  Trophy wives do this shit all the time.  Well, Andrew is a bartender at a local gay bar which kind of leads me to believe he's not really all that into the ladies unless they're rich as hell.

Here's where it gets really Florida.

Andrew shows up at Mishay's house, "unannounced" and lets himself in.  Mishay shoots him in the chest with a 9mm.  She then concocts a bullshit stalker story for the police.

Like this, but with more blood.

The best part, as he's laying there bleeding waiting for the ambulance, Andrew took a selfie.

I wonder what his Instagram handle is.

Monday, October 20, 2014

Bitches be crazy, yo.

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Stay Classy Green Cove Springs

Monday, October 6, 2014

News from our favorite swinging senior community...

Friday, October 3, 2014

Some good news and some bad news

First, the good news.  Waldo PD is no more!  WOOHOO!  No more ticket quotas, no more speed traps!

Now for the bad news.  The mouth breathing inbreeders that comprise the Waldo population are now terrified that crime is going to go through the roof.  Motorists are going to careen willy-nilly through the town, mowing down children and pets with reckless abandon.

Seriously, read the article.

What the hell is he doing with his phone?
Cleetus here thinks that he has to carry a gun on his hip in Mayberry now that Barney is unemployed.

I guess that's just life on the mean streets of Waldo.

This is the absolute worst line in the article:

"I hate to lose the police department, just for general safety levels," Harold Coday, 80, said outside Waldo's post office. "And the officers were good guys, they were just doing their job writing tickets. They had good intentions."

No Harold, they didn't have good intentions.  I understand you're 80 and still think police are public servants, but how about I let you in on a little secret:  Police departments with good intentions don't write thousands of tickets a year PER OFFICER strictly for revenue.  In all honesty, I don't see anyone with ethics or a sense of morality taking a job in a department like Waldo PD.  



Anyway, good riddance.  



Monday, September 22, 2014

What the actual F...?

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Nobody told him it was hot yoga

Oh yeah.   Downward dog for me baby.
Let's give Joseph Jordan a big hand.  Joe is the latest hometown hero for the folks here at Dammit Florida.  Joe decided to try some yoga.  I'm sure he's been told of all the health benefits.  Maybe he was just trying to limber himself up for some self pleasure.  Who knows.  What we do know is that he got into the class and it was too much for him.  Joe decided that it was a great idea to polish the one eyed gopher, right there in the yoga class.

Quite possibly mankind's greatest creation.
Now, I know what you're thinking.

Yoga pants.

It's a well documented fact that we are HUGE fans of yoga pants, but come on dude, that's what the internet is for.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Today's honorary Floridian

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Honest officer, I was just buffing the seat.

A big thanks to Harold for this one.

Karen Marie Dilworth just wanted to feel the power between her legs.  She went to the garage, opened up the door and straddled her motorcycle.

Sounds normal, right?

Here's where it gets all Florida on us.

Karen was naked.  Instead of riding the bike in the way the manufacturer intended, she rode it differently.  She proceeded to rub herself all over the bike in full view of the neighbors, including a 13 year old boy.  She was later arrested for lewd behavior.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Honeymooners, Florida Style

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Everybody loves Waldo.

Florida: Home to the Taco Bell Butt Groper

Folks, I've seen asses and Taco Bells all over this great land of ours.  There are asses worth going to jail over.  Mrs Dammit Florida possesses one of those asses.  From my vast personal experience with Taco Bell, there is one thing I can say for certain.  Drunk or not, it's a rare, bordering on nigh impossible thing to find an ass worthy of jail working behind the counter at Taco Bell.  I'm going to go out on a limb here and say a 40 year old woman working at Taco Bell probably doesn't possess said ass.

Fast food ass grabber
Our boy, Phil on the left there got really liquored up, made a run for the border at 2 am and then proceeded to reach through the drive through window and get himself a handful.  Phil looks like a fun guy.  Maybe he was just being friendly.  He looks like a friendly guy.  Maybe that Bradenton Taco Bell has an ass worth going to jail for attached to a 40 year old woman that works the drive through at 2 am.  Who knows?

How did poo get on the ceiling?

She looks so happy too.  
We have a new candidate for mother of the year.   Betsy Velasquez.   Her family was living in such squalor, when the investigators started looking around, there was dog shit on the floor, walls, and ceiling.  

Wait....  How in the world did it get on the ceiling?  

That's what I want to know.  

CPS was tipped off by how bad her 10 year old son stunk up the school. Every class has the stinky kid.  How bad did this kid stink that the authorities had to be alerted?

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Working at a tourist attraction (Part 1?)

My very first job after high school was at Marineland of Florida.   Not the new and improved Marineland they've built where tourists can have a "Dolphin Experience", but the old Marineland that was built in 1938 as a movie studio.  Old movies like Tarzan and Creature from the Black Lagoon were filmed there.  I haven't been back since they bulldozed the original Marineland and honestly, I don't think I want to.  I believe a real piece of old Florida history and culture is gone and replaced by a smooth, sanitized, padded edges kind of thing and it's very sad.   According to one travel site, it's not the same.  This guy definitely doesn't sugar coat it.

Ok, enough of that maudlin bullshit.

Like I said, my first job after high school was at Marineland.  I started calling around to unusual places looking for jobs that sounded fun.  The nice lady on the phone told me they had two diver spots open.  I had just finished my open water dive certification.  I remember saying "I'll take it.  When do I start?" and she told me that I needed to come down to see them first.  "It was worth a try, right?"  She laughed and set up an appointment for me to meet the operations manager and chief diver.

It takes a special kind of stupid to work a job like that.  You have to love animals, which I do.  You have to love the ocean, ok, got that covered.  You have to be able to tolerate some fairly extreme conditions at times, check.  You have to be able to do physically grueling labor, underwater, at least a few hours a day.  Wait, what?

Yours truly, circa 1991.
Hauling around the fish food.
Here's what they don't tell you.  You are not only going to do shows for the tourists, as a diver you are also going to do any and all maintenance that requires somebody in the water.  Let me tell you what folks, a 50 year old million+ gallon salt water aquarium built on the beach requires a lot of maintenance.  You are also going to be chewed on by everything that lives in the ocean.  EVERYTHING.  Dolphins are going to bounce you around like a beach ball.  In the winter, the tanks aren't heated so you're diving in 48 degree water.  Oh yeah, you're going to be paid minimum wage.

I loved it.  It was the best job I ever had.  I was in the best shape of my life.  Swimming with dolphins for a living is kryptonite to the ladies, but that's a story for another day.

One of the shows I did four times a day was to feed the fish in the big tank for the tourists.  I have been bitten, gnawed, chewed, spindled, folded and mutilated by pretty much every species that lives in that region of the Atlantic Ocean.  I have been bitten by sharks.  I almost lost a finger tip to a big snapper.  A large tarpon clamped down my hand and forearm halfway to the elbow and started shaking me back and forth.  A moray eel tried to eat my face. (thankfully he only got a mouthful of mask, regulator and fist)  I got pinned to the bottom and holes poked in my bicep by a very large, overly enthusiastic sawfish named Seymour.  We were always so scraped up and bruised that once, a cashier at a grocery store asked me and another diver if we had been in a car accident.

The hands-down, no competition kings of biting in that tank were the turtles.  We had four in the tank.  Three greens and a hawksbill.  The greens were all large, about 5-6 feet in length.  Big enough to ride around.  The hawksbill was smaller, maybe 2 feet from head to tail.  We affectionately named him Little Shit.  The turtles' problem isn't that they're malicious like a wasp or spider.  Their problem is that they're stupid.  Very very stupid.  Sea turtles are the retards of the ocean and Little Shit was their king.  These animals are so dumb, they had to evolve retractable eyeballs because they like to get high eating the stinging parts of jellyfish.

One day, I'm doing my thing, feeding the fish and waving at the kids watching through the glass.  It's the first show of the day.  I head back down to the bottom at the center of the tank to get more fish food (smaller, deader fish) and all of the sudden it felt like somebody shot me in the side of the head.
I'm coming for your delicious fleshy bits.
Searing pain and a loud CRUNCH!!

Little Shit had bitten my ear.

Not only did he bite it, he bit off a piece.  He took a notch out of the cartilage at the top of my ear.

The thing about head injuries is that they bleed.  A lot.  I'm swimming to the ladder, leaving a trail of blood behind me.  All I can hear is small fish CLICK CLICK CLACK CLICK as they are snapping at my bloody ear.  All I can think about it that I need to get out of here quick before something bigger takes interest.

I managed to haul myself and my gear up the ladder and over the wall one handed while I tried to stop the bleeding with the other.  At this point I'm bleeding everywhere.  Blood is running down my arm, my face, my neck.  It's dripping off my elbow and chin.   I look like a horror movie.  No big deal.  I just need to get to first aid and get patched up.

There's one small problem.  There are about a dozen kids with their parents that want their picture taken with the moron that feeds sharks every day.  I've still got to get out of my gear before heading down to first aid.  I'm doing my best to keep that side of my head hidden and my hand pressed down hard on my ear.

That's when one of them sees the blood.

"MOMMY! THAT MAN IS BLEEDING!" the kid shrieked.

Oh shit.  Here we go.  About half of them recoiled in horror and the other half became very concerned for my well being.  A couple wanted to know what got me.

I assured them I was fine, we get bit all the time, it looks worse than it really is, blah blah blah.  I promise that I will take pictures with them all after my next show but I need to get this thing patched up.

Meanwhile, in my head I'm wondering how the hell I am still conscious given all the blood everywhere.

So I get my gear put away and head downstairs to the first aid station.

The chief diver asked me why I wasn't in the tank doing some maintenance that needed to be done.  I just kind of looked at him like "do I normally walk around inside in a soaked wetsuit?  You think maybe something is amiss?"  I just turned my head and moved my hand.  He got really pale and told me to get my ass to the aid station.

Keep in mind, I still haven't seen the damage, only the blood.

Thankfully, the lovely and talented Danielle was working in the announcers booth and came over to patch me up.  I would have needed stitches, except that damn turtle ate the piece necessary to stitch it up.   Dani bandaged me up several times that day.  Before and after every show, she would glop on antibacterial medicine re-bandage me and send me out into the world to try not to get a staph infection right next door to from my brain.

My ear healed.  Pretty quickly really.  That's the advantage to having so much blood flow in the area.  It heals fast.  There's a scar and if you feel the top of my right ear, you can feel the notch in the cartilage.
I miss these bumper stickers



Wednesday, August 27, 2014

You know what day it is...

Friday, August 22, 2014

Honorary Floron 8-22-14

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Meanwhile, outside (I'm not making this up) Beef O'Brady's...

Such a cute couple.
April Newcomb and Brandon Tinyes were getting their freak on up against a pickup truck (of course) in the parking lot.  Witnesses saw April, um, kneeling in front of Brandon, who is 22 years her junior BTW, Way to go April!  By the time deputies got there, they were half naked, she had her legs wrapped around him and he was just plowing her up against the truck.

Her response to the deputy?  "We're just friends having sex."

Well that makes it all better.

They were booked for lewd and lascivious behavior and exposure of sexual organs.

As a foot note, April has a run-in with the law.  Back in 2010 she was arrested for child abuse.  Her then 16 year old daughter got in a fight with another girl and there's April on the youtube video, cheering her daughter on.  Such a classy family.

The only thing missing is a trailer park.

Check out my sweet ninja moves!
Of course, apartment complexes right outside of Navy bases are the next best thing.   This unnamed ninja in training was running around an apartment complex outside of Mayport, butt-ass naked with a samurai sword.  A heroic bystander talked him into putting the sword down before tackling him and restraining him until the police arrived.

I don't know about you, but tackling a naked guy is very high on my icky list.

Monday, August 18, 2014

What do you mean there was meth involved?

Meth or chicken pox?  You decide.
Just take a look at that mugshot.  I'm shocked, shocked I tell you that this fine, upstanding citizen would mug her own grandmother.  Does that look like the face of a meth addict to you?  Granny should have just ponied up for the motel room and shit wouldn't have gotten weird.

I still don't get why they had to rip meemaw's bra off.  Was she hiding the cash in there?

The good news is that the cops caught this shining example of a citizen and her husband before they could go on a 12 state crime spree.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

This guy is going to LOVE prison

People pay him for what?
Everybody, meet Diamond AKA Rico Antwan Jones.  Rico was out for a drive a few days ago when the po-po decided to pull him over for suspected DUI.  Rico driving down the wrong side of the street kind of tipped them off.  

I know what you're thinking, what's so special about that?  This sort of thing happens every day, all over the world.  

Did I mention that Rico has a long history of prostitution offenses?  Yes kids, Rico is a man-whore.  

Rico hit the panic button as soon as the lights went on in his rear view.  He jumped a median in what I'd like to imagine as a flurry of tire smoke, dirt and grass and tried to haul ass.  

And haul ass he did, right into the side of a retirement home.  

When the 5-0 caught up to him, they noticed something unusual.  The only thing Rico was wearing was a bra, panties and high heel shoes.  

According to the Tampa Bay Times, ( I am not making this up) "He climbed out of the wreckage and tried to run before he was subdued by arriving officers."  

Hell yeah, I'd try to run too.  

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Just let them run their course

We'll eventually get bored and leave.
It'll be ok.  That's what this couple's landlord keeps telling them about the snakes infesting their South Florida home.  Really, "run their course"?  That's going to take care of the snake problem.  I guess they'll just get bored and leave.

Folks, last time I checked, if you have snakes, it's because you have snake food.  Mice, rats, voles, shrews, etc.  Whatever cut rate exterminator the landlord hired obviously didn't fix the problem.

""We are doing everything we can about the snakes, but we have no further comment at this time," Bill Jones, the owner of Barnes and Phillips Real Estate, said in a statement."  

Well thanks a ton Bill, meanwhile our toddler has started naming all the snakes that stay warm at night by sleeping in bed with him.


Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Are you gonna use those socks?

Well hello ladies...
A wise man once told me "Everybody's got their kink" and I suppose he was talking about this kind of twisted shit.

Robert Van Wagner has a fetish.  Old Bob there has a thing for feet, or more specifically, dirty socks.  No big deal, right.  Keep your weird shit to yourself and everybody stays happy.  The problem is that Bob seems to have a very specific type of dirty sock in mine.  Underage cheerleaders socks.  He is so into them, he's not too proud to beg.  Maybe the begging is part of the routine or something.  Anyway, they arrested this twisted son of a bitch for "robbery by sudden snatching".  He allegedly begged a girl leaving cheer practice to give him the dirty socks she was carrying.  When she refused, he resorted to the old snatch and run (walk?) trick.

Police already knew who this guy is because a couple of years ago, he gave some underage girls socks and asked them to run around in them.

Monday, August 4, 2014

This week's candidate for Mom of the Year

Sonia Siro.  First, she gets arrested on Friday for DUI with her 8 year old son in the car.  This isn't one of those barely registers 0.08 BAC DUIs that ruin peoples lives unnecessarily.  This was "run the stop sign and drive the wrong way in traffic" type of DUI that truly is a public safety issue.

Next, she gets arrested on Sunday for leaving the scene of a crash, resisting and aggravated assault.  She bonded out and CPS is now taking care of her son.

This woman is a role model for girls all over the trailer park.


Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Stranger danger!!

Bad cop!  No donut!
Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do....  Todays Tard of the Week award goes to the Port St Lucie Police Department.

Port St Lucie cops arrested a mom for letting her 7 year old play at the neighborhood playground without a security detail.   I hope this mom has the funds and time to stick it to the man.  The list of bullshit reasons to call this child endangerment is completely retarded.

"Oh my, there might be bad people lurking in the shadows".  WTF people.  Seriously.  Why even let the kids go outside at this point.  Your special little snowflake needs to be protected at all costs.

My parents would be buried under the jail if I were a kid now.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Reader Roundup 7-24-2014

Big thanks to Ron, Jason, and Harold for these.  Ready?  Here we go.

First, we have this guy.   This fine upstanding citizen gets caught blowing another dude by his wife.  Instead of talking it out, he goes all Florida on her, knocking her off the jet ski they were riding and leaves her stranded on a sand bar.  In the middle of a large body of water.  She eventually died a few days later in the hospital.  Police are now looking for the knob polishee for questioning.

Next up, we have this octogenarian that went all apeshit in traffic and shot another car for cutting him off.  Folks, if you learn nothing else from me, remember this:  Don't F with old guys.  They will ruin your day.  They don't give a shit, they're going to die soon anyway.

I bet the next time Michael Glitniak tries to pay a hooker with food stamps, he'll check to make sure she's WIC approved first.

Last, we have these guys.  They obviously really really wanted a burger.  They wanted burgers so bad, they broke into the burger joint and stole a shitload of them.   Oh yeah, in true Florida fashion, they were naked.

Hurricanes, Tornados and Sharks (oh my)

I'm so proud of my home state right now.  Florida topped the list of scariest states.  Not because of clowns or spiders but because of hurricanes, tornados and sharks.  America's Wang ranked first in each of those categories.

So, if you're out and about today, hug a shark.  They are a big help in keeping us weird.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Fly the really friendly skies

John Manwaring of Maitland was arrested in Boston during a layover for going out to score a fix.

Oh yeah, and he's a JetBlue pilot.

I don't know about you, but I have serious reservations about an airline pilot who is also a heroin enthusiast.  I'd be worried he'd nod off during a flight and we'd turn into a crater, but that's just me.


Thursday, July 17, 2014

No ID required

Beer......
I feel bad or the kids of today.  Underage drinking these days seems to be something that can get the kid, their family and every convenience store clerk in a 20 mile radius locked up for 16 consecutive life sentences.  Back in the late 80s/early 90s, it wasn't that way.  As long as you weren't a complete amateur about it, you could get away with it.  

One of the ways to get away with it back then was to go to really shitty bars.  There were a few we went to whose policy seemed to be that if you had the balls to walk in and order a beer in this place, you're old enough to be there.  This is a story about one such place.  

There was a bar in Jacksonville Beach that Jonathan (yes, the same guy from this story) and I would go to pretty frequently.  It was a little locals only dive.  It was a complete dump, but they had cheap pitchers and good live music, mostly blues and southern rock.  The clientele was always interesting as well.    

We got there one Saturday night and it was a little crowded, no big deal.  One thing caught my eye as we walked in.  There is a guy sitting over in a corner table, so hammered that he's having a heated conversation with a potted tree.  I don't know about you, but I have never been so smashed that I got into an argument with a ficus.  This guy is debating the meaning of life or something with the shrubbery.  


The band is rocking, playing a lot of Skynyrd of course. There are a couple of open tables.  Jonathan grabs a table and I head to the bar to get a pitcher.  I get to the table, pour myself a beer and settle in to listen to the music and relax.  Halfway through the pitcher, somebody falls over onto me.  It's tree-boy.  I put a hand on his back and stand him back up.  No harm, no foul.  Didn't even spill my beer.  What I didn't notice is that when I stood him back up, it was right back into the face of the guy that punched him, knocking him into me in the first place.  So dude clocks tree-boy again, this time knocking him over another table, sending a pitcher and mugs flying.  

This is not good.
At this point, the whole place erupts into a brawl.  When I say brawl, I want you to picture an old western movie.  That's what it looked like.  Everybody trying to punch somebody, tables getting turned over, chairs flying and the band never missed a beat.   

Jonathan and I want no part of this.  We're drinking in a bar underage and accidentally started a huge bar fight.  Not good.  We need an exit strategy.  Jonathan bolts for the door and gets out.  I can't get around the table and through the door before it gets blocked.  Shit, now what?  Not really wanting to fight my way out, I take the only option left.  

I jump up on the stage with the band.  

It's about this time that I realize I didn't completely think this through.  Jonathan thinks it's hilarious as he's pointing and laughing at me through the windows.  

Where do I go now?  I'm further away from the door than I was.  I can't just stand here looking like a deer in the headlights while the rest of the place is reenacting the pie fight scene from Blazing Saddles without the pies.  

Stuck on stage with no way out, I did what any good North Florida boy would have done.  

I grabbed a mic...  "...be a simple kind of maaaaaaaaannnn......."

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

I feel so much safer.

Papers please.
What happens when the world's most inept government agency hires fast food workers to run it's operations?

This.

I have no words.

I can tell you from experience that the TSA in Orlando is staffed with lower than average forms of life, even for the TSA.

We were coming home from Disney World sometime around 2007.  We were coming home, running late and trying to get to our flight.  My seven year old son was the last of us to come through.  He had put a half used sample size of toothpaste in his backpack.  Well, the TSA screener who left a lucrative job at Burger King to decide who gets on a plane and who gets beat with rubber hoses in an 8x8 concrete room under the airport decided she was going to detain my son for his contraband Colgate.

This did not sit well with me.

My lovely wife saw my face and proceeded to get herself and my daughter the hell out of dodge.  She didn't want to get locked up just for being part of the family.  They headed for the gate, quickstyle.

I nicely told her that we can just throw the toothpaste away and be on our way.  That wasn't good enough.  She then put her hands on my son.

Oh hells no.  Wrong answer, this isn't happening.  I'm pretty sure this was the first time my kids heard me drop the F bomb.  I dropped it, I dropped it loud and I dropped it good.  I explained to her that in no uncertain terms was she to touch my kid again or we're going to have a problem.  She is welcome to keep the toothpaste, but we are getting on the plane.   She still didn't want the toothpaste so I threw a fastball right past her into the trash can in her little screening station.  She grabbed my wrist.   I asked her to show me her ID.  She refused.  I knew she would because she made a big effort to hide it when I first walked over to see what the problem was.  She kept it hidden during the whole encounter.  I told her this interaction was done and walked away.

Thankfully, she didn't call security and have me locked up.

Monday, July 14, 2014

Wouldn't that make them documented?


Seriously folks.  Illegals or as it it PC to say Undocumented aliens are undocumented for a reason.  They don't want to be documented.  If they are documented, it makes it easier to find and deport them.  This is one of the dumbest things I have heard today, and I was amusing myself reading a site about chemtrails this morning.

I bet our good buddy Rick Scott finds a way to pander to them.  

Road Yoga

She looks so happy.
It must be the yoga. 
Sounds like fun, right.  Michele Cernak thought so too.  She got super high on some combination of heroin, crack, Vicodin and Xanax.   Then she proceeded to park her truck in the median, strip naked and start doing yoga right there.  I guess it seemed like the thing to do at the time.

Folks, I've spent some time in Ocala which is where this happened.  Aside from the occasional case of horse buggery, there really isn't a whole lot going on there.

Still, I can't imagine ever being this bored.

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Three morons in a tiny boat

Years ago, around the time Bill Clinton was having his presidential knob polished by a chubby intern, the company my dad worked for got a special deal from the Jacksonville Suns.  For a flat fee, you got box seats and all the hotdogs and beer you wanted at an afternoon game.  Several of us took advantage of the offer and saw the beer/hotdog thing as a personal challenge.  We tried valiantly to eat every hotdog and drink every beer in the stadium that day, but it was a game of numbers.  They were too many and we were too few.

Todd, Paul and I were unceremoniously dumped out of a car onto my front yard around 8 pm.

So what are we going to do now?

I know, let's go fishing!

One problem popped up immediately.  We were out of beer and none of us is in any condition to drive.  No problem, I got this covered.  I walked next door and got the 15 year old neighbor kid who had his learners permit to drive us up to Publix in my truck for more beer.

Upon returning home with beer, ice and bait, we proceeded to load up my little jon boat, trolling motor, battery and gear into the back of the truck.  We get the neighbor kid to drive us down to the creek.  He walked home (it's only a few minutes away on foot) and left us there to put the boat in.

We quickly found out that a 10 foot jon boat is not nearly large enough for 3 grown men who had been drinking all afternoon.  We were floating just a few inches above the water line with all the weight in the boat.  Fishing is out of the question.  Instead of going home, we decide to take a scenic nighttime tour of Julington Creek.  When I say scenic, all we could see was darkness except for our flashlights and lantern, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

We're watching you Todd.  
Did I mention that Todd is from Kentucky and not completely down with the idea of gators?  Well, this is great fun for me as I start shining the light around so he can see all their beady little eyes glowing back at us.  Always there, always watching.

So we keep puttering along under power from the trolling motor.  For the uninitiated, an electric trolling motor is a small motor that sounds like George Jetson's car used to maneuver a boat around slowly.   Power is measured in lbs of thrust.  This particular model was an ancient 14 lb thrust model that only 2 of the 3 speeds worked.  For comparison, 14lbs of thrust equates to about 0.000001 horsepower.  You can walk faster than this thing.  A lot faster.  I think the smallest they make now is about 30 lbs of thrust.  Don't laugh, it was free.

One of the rocket scientists in the boat says "Hey, lets go up to Clarks!"  Clarks is a fish camp/seafood joint about 3 miles up the creek from where we put in.  It's the point where the creek goes from being really narrow to full river.

Sure, why not.  It's super dark, we're drinking and in a tiny boat.  What's the worst that could happen?

A few hours, several beers and hundreds of gators later, we're standing on the dock at Clarks, proud to join the ranks of explorers like Magellan, Lewis and Clark and James T. Kirk.

From the looks of it, we missed last call.  Dammit.  I bet Magellan didn't miss last call when he made it to the Philippines.

Oh well, it's after 2 am.  Time to go home.  We climb back aboard the boat and start the long and treacherous journey home.  About 300 yards from the dock, the unthinkable happens.  The battery dies.  No more juice.

"Uh, well shit.  This sucks."

"Now what?"

"I guess we're paddling."

I wouldn't really call it a paddle, more like an extra large spatula.  Oh yeah, there's only one of them.  Three miles doesn't sound like much until you try to propel an overloaded boat full of drunks with a kitchen utensil.

The rest of the trip we took turns paddling and drinking.

Suddenly, the peace and tranquility is broken by a scream so horrifying that it immediately flips that switch in the primitive part of our brains from inactive to fight or flight.  Every hair on my body stood on end.  It took a second to realize that it was Todd screaming.  He sounded a lot like Chris Tucker in the Fifth Element.  Todd thought something was about to eat him.  What really happened was that a mullet got spooked by the boat and when it jumped in the pitch dark, it jumped towards the boat and hit Todd in the leg and then started flopping around by his feet.  I'm pretty sure Todd not only dropped a few stink nuggets in his drawers, he also lost at least 3 or 4 years off the end of his life.
Jumping out of the water and into your nightmares

We got back to the put in spot right about sunrise.  All in all it was a good night.  We saw wildlife, we drank beer, we laughed,  one of us cried, we even caught a fish without trying.


Wednesday, July 9, 2014

This is why I'm a dog person

Mr Dinkles is not happy.  
It's a story as old as time.  Woman steps on cats tail, cat tries to murder the whole family.

Teresa and James Gregory of Deland will probably turn into dog people soon too.  Their cat, Kush decided to go all batshit crazy on them and tried to kill them in their home recently.  I know what you're thinking, anyone that names a cat "Kush" probably has other issues too, but I digress.  Kush allegedly went so nuts, they had to call 911 on the cat.  Personally, I'd have just kicked the cat or grabbed him by the scruff and tossed his ass outside, but that's just me.

What is this world coming to?  What kind of panty waist calls 911 because Mr Dinkles is going crazy in the house.  I don't get it.  I worked at a vet's office when I was a teen.  These bites and scratches would have been just another day at work.


Monday, July 7, 2014

Polar bear plunge, Florida style


So, how does one organize a polar bear plunge for charity in a State where the water never freezes?  

Simple, you get one of those oversized kiddie pools from Wal-mart and 1500 lbs of ice.  These heroic cops are raising money in Clearwater to help a woman with cancer.  It's nice to see them take a break from kicking down the wrong door looking for contraband to do something that benefits the community.  

Thursday, July 3, 2014

In hindsight, that was probably a bad idea

My friends and I, like all red blooded American boys LOVED fire and fireworks.  We even made our own on occasion.

We used to do a lot of night fishing in a little branch off of Julington Creek growing up.  There was a cleared lot with a bulkhead just a few minutes walk from the house.  I fished in that spot from the time I was in elementary school until I moved out of state in my late 20s.  We would sit down there and make a campfire because the smoke helped keep bugs away and fire provided entertainment while waiting on a fish to bite.  It started off with melting stuff.  That fire pit probably has a six inch thick blob of melted aluminum, lead and glass at the bottom of it to this day.

Friends would come by and see if anything was biting or just to hang out and shoot the shit for a while.  It started becoming routine for somebody to drop a firecracker in the fire and laugh themselves stupid when somebody almost shit their pants from the surprise or started doing the funky chicken dance from embers flying around all over the place.  One friend liked to toss something in the fire and yell "BULLET!" and run like hell just to watch everybody scatter.  This was before we found out that a bullet won't shoot out of a fire and kill you, but that's a story for another time.

One night when I was about 14, my buddy Jonathan and I were fishing.  It wasn't a particularly fruitful expedition and we were about to pack it up.  I stood up to do the traditional pee out the campfire routine when he stopped me.

This is going to be cool as shit!
"Hang on a second, this is gonna be cool as shit."

"What'd ya bring?" I asked, assuming that it was going to be the usual homemade fireworks or something.

"Check it out."

He then pulls the biggest aerosol can of WD-40 I have ever seen out of his bag.  This thing was huge.  Like Sam's Club bucket of mayo huge.

This is going to be awesome.  See, we had blown up cans of hair spray before.  It makes a decent sized pop, usually putting out the fire, no muss, no fuss.  Kind of like a dry ice bomb, but with the added excitement of shrapnel.

So we decide that the plan is to drop the can in the fire and hide behind a big oak tree to watch.  After the pop, we'll haul ass before anybody came to investigate the noise.  What's the worst that can happen, right?

He drops the can and we run.  We're giggling like morons waiting for the thing to pop.  The seconds tick by in slow motion.  What happened next, well, lets just say it was no can of hair spray.

BOOM!!!   The can blew up.  It shook the ground and sent a giant fireball 40 feet into the air.  Seriously, you could see this event from space.
It looked just like this.  

We look at each other "COOL!!"

Our revelry was short lived when it started raining hellfire down all around us.

We spent the next several minutes running around in a panic trying to stomp out the 4000 little fires that started in a 40 foot radius around the fire.  We got them out and luckily made a clean getaway.

That was the first and last time we blew up a can of WD-40.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

It had to be a joke, right?

Sports fan or not, anyone who hasn't been living under a rock for the past couple of years has heard of Aaron Hernandez.  In case you don't know, he was an NFL player that murdered a few people.   He was a thug when we played at UF as well, but as it goes all over the NCAA and NFL, if you're a good player, you can get away with a lot *cough* (Ray Lewis) *cough*.

Aaron isn't a Floridian, but he did play football at UF and that's why we're talking about it now.  The Gators put out a calendar every year.  Guess who Mr July is.  Just take a wild assed guess.  

Yep, you guessed it.  Hernandez is Mr July.  

UF's excuse?  "These things are approved months or years in advance."   Wow.  They couldn't be bothered to get a new July page to the printers since June of 2013.  

Um..... yeah.

Everyone knows it's 2014, right?  Now that we've established that we are living in modern times, do people really fall for this sideshow nonsense?

Well, it is Florida.

Some yahoo in Seminole Heights caught a glimpse of the wily and elusive two-headed gator.  You read that right kids, a two-headed gator.  They even got a picture.  Now, I'm no expert, but that picture looks pretty suspect to me.  I know two headed animals exist, but for a gator to live long enough in the wild to reach the size in the picture, well, lets just say I have my doubts.

Honestly, I hope I'm wrong.  I'd love to add this reptile to the list of weird things from my beloved home state.