No Husband Is Not An Emergency

Look, I understand that people get lonely. I understand that you feel bad when your relationship or your marriage or whatever you had going on with someone else doesn't work out. It sucks. We all know it sucks. And the sooner that we replace that person that is missing (whether we threw the loser out or whether the loser ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction), the sooner that it stops sucking (or start sucking, which is better in a couple of instances). While I realize that it may seem like something that is extremely urgent that you want to have happen and that it may feel like an emergency, you're going to have to find that replacement mate in some other fashion other than dialing 911 five times in one hour. Wait. What now?

Correct. Let's meet Audrey Kay Scott, shall we? Behold!

According to Fox8 News Audrey "...is going through a divorce...She says the last five weeks have been rough. Last week when she moved into a new apartment, Audrey, who friends call Kay, decided to celebrate." Hmm. I'm guessing that if you're getting divorced and having to move into a new apartment, you're not really going to be celebrating quite as much as you are going to be drinking yourself into some sort of stupor.

Kay explains that "I drank too much vodka and I got lonely and sad because all my friends are with my husband now and I have no family." Yes, that would make one lonely and sad to be in that situation. I'm not saying that it would make one pick up the phone and call 911 looking for a new husband, but I am saying that the lonely and sad part is probably legit.

But legit or not, she did call 911. The call went something like this:

Husbandless Caller: "Get me that husband"

Dispatcher: "You need to get a husband?"

Drunken, Husbandless Caller: "Yes."

Dispatcher: "You're calling 911 to get a husband? Do you know you can get arrested for dialing 911?"

Unremorseful, Drunken, Husbandless Caller: "Let's do it."

Dispatcher: "You want to get arrested for dialing 911?"

About To Be Arrested, Unremorseful, Drunken Husbandless Caller: "Absolutely."

Seems to me that, drunk or not, Kay isn't exactly playing with a full deck. She seems to be a few fries short of a Happy Meal. Afterwards, she explained, "The officer said you cannot abuse the system we have serious things to respond to and this is not one of them and he said you need to learn this lesson, so I went to prison and I wouldn't trade any of it for anything in the world." Oh, how I only wish that reporting these days wasn't so completely craptastic that the reporter would have asked her why she wouldn't trade any of it for anything in the world. I can think of a whole lot of things that I'd trade three days in jail for. She can't think of a one. Hmmm.

Speaking of craptastic reporting, explain to me what in the world this little tidbit is supposed to mean: "Kay admits she was drinking and says she was looking for her husband, not a love connection." Seriously. What, exactly, does that mean? We know she was looking for a husband. That's the first thing she said. "Get me that husband." It seems fairly clear. Why would we think that she was really looking for a love connection (whatever that is supposed to mean)? Was Chuck Woolery the 911 operator?

Apparently, after appearing in court (having spent those three glorious "wouldn't trade them for anything" days in jail), "The judge ordered her to attend alcoholics anonymous meetings, which she is attending daily." That seems reasonable. Too bad that they don't have any meetings about things that are better than jail. Sounds to me like she could use some of those meetings as well.

But in the end, "Kay says she is sorry she called 911, but says her drunk dial ultimately pushed her toward the straight and narrow." What does that mean? Not the part about being sorry! I know what being sorry means! The part about the straight. And the narrow! I'm not so sure that I consider NOT calling 911 for a husband being on "the straight and narrow". I call that "explaining to a moron what is and isn't OK".

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Just A Little Help

So, Gary Coleman has been dead for almost a week now. (They're still planning his funeral. I'm assuming that once they find an appropriately sized shoe box to bury him in, things will start moving along.) I had thought about approaching this topic sooner, but given the slightly out of control way that he seemed to go through his day to day life, I figured that there would actually be something new to talk about if I just gave it a little time so that more details could start seeping out. Good thing I did. They've seeped.

I've always wondered about his marriage to the Amazon woman, Shannon Price. (She seems to be really tall. Then again, standing next to him, she might be only five feet tall. I suppose that my reference in this matter might be a bit skewed.) While she's about twenty years younger than him, give or take a couple of years (and feet, while you're at it), their maturity level seemed to be about even...if they were both 5. Neither one of them seemed to be the brightest bulb on the tree.

According to Ms. Price, the diminutive Mr. Coleman was prone to throwing fits when he didn't get his way. In the past, some of his fits included throwing a printer, throwing a fax machine, beating his head against a wall, and screaming in a high pitched state of rage that sounded an awful lot like what a 2-year old does when things aren't going just quite right. To say that he was short tempered would be accurate in a variety of ways (not to mention it would make for an awesome pun).

And maybe that's why, whenever I saw the two of them interviewed together (most notably on Divorce Court, where it was revealed that their brief, odd little marriage was never consummated, perhaps because Mr. Coleman did not have access to a ladder), I always found her to come across as rather detached. Don't get me wrong. I don't think that one should be buddying up to someone else who is prone to hurling large computer peripherals during fits of dissatisfaction. I'm just saying that she didn't seem like she was all that into him. That's all.

And judging from the 911 call that she made, it's really difficult to tell that she even liked the guy very much. She was rather...what's the word I want? Hmm...upset? Eh. Maybe, but that's not where I'm headed with this. Umm....panicked? Kind of, but not for reasons that one would think. Indifferent and annoyed with the whole thing after he fell down at some point and hit his head and was bleeding everywhere? Yeah! That's it! That's the term I was looking for. She seemed very inconvenienced by the whole ordeal.

The gossipy folks over yonder at TMZ have been kind enough to provide us with the audio of the 911 call that Shannon Price made from their dollhouse home in Santaquin, Utah. (Of course, they're not going to let me embed the audio here, but the wonderful, newsy folks over there at the New York Daily News will let me embed the audio, which you will find at the bottom of this post.) Now, look, I've been to Santaquin. Many a time. There isn't much there. It's fairly empty and in the middle of nowhere. I would imagine that it would take medical personnel a while to respond to an emergency call. Thus, it's going to be pertinent upon the person making the call to be a little bit more helpful than Ms. Price was!

Ms. Price calls 911 (at least she could figure that much out) and when the operator asks what the problem is, her response is, "Um....um....I just found...I had my husband go make me some food downstairs. I heard this big bang. I went downstairs. Blood everywhere. I don't know if he's okay. I'm not down there right now because I have seizures if I get stressed out. I'm gonna seize." What now?

She has seizures if she gets stressed out? Is that something new? Regardless as to the novelty of it all, she wasn't down there with him? She goes down, sees her husband on the floor and bleeding profusely, runs upstairs to get the phone and leaves him down there without much of any intent of returning to his side? How comforting for the man. He was a lucky little dude. Or not.

Now, the 911 operator seems to get that it would be important for her to go down there to be with him. If nothing else, at least to try and stop the bleeding. I mean, if the guy is unconscious, is she really not going to even try to go and help stop the bleeding?! For reals? Ma'am, you are a real piece of work, that's for sure.

She continues talking to the operator by telling her, "His head is bloody. There's blood all over the floor. I don't know what happened. I really don't know what happened. I just heard this bang and I just went down there and he's on the floor. Send someone quick because I don't even know if he's going to be alive. There's a lot of blood on the floor." The 911 operator responds with, "Is there any way that you can go down there at all?" And I'll give that woman props for saying it as calmly and as kindly as she did. I don't know that those would have been my choice of words in this situation. (Mine might have been more like, "Lady, you're going to have to toughen up and get your ass down there and help your freaking husband so that he doesn't die. I don't care if you're a little squeamish. If you have a seizure, don't worry! Medical personnel are on the way!") To which Ms. Price responded, "I don't know. I'll try. I mean...I don't know." In the immortal words of Bugs Bunny, what a maroon.

The conversation doesn't get much better than that, but it does follow a similar theme. See if you notice it in the dialogue that they shared.

911 operator: How old is your husband?...I'm going to stay on the line with you, OK

Shannon "More About Me" Price: Cool. I've just been like...I've been sick and I really don't want to be traumatized right now. (Yeah, that'd be awful. No sense in you being traumatized whilst your husband is suffering from a massive head wound downstairs. You just stay put, little lady.)

911 operator: Is he conscious?

Shannon "I Need Some Binoculars" Price: Um, no…He's was like bubbling at the mouth. I'll see. Gary! (Mind you, she's yelling down the stairs at him because she won't go down there.)

911 operator: Is he breathing?

Shannon "From The Watchtower" Price: Yeah, I can hear him moving around. Gary? Are you OK?

911 operator: Can you tell him to put pressure on the wound?

Shannon "I'm Missing The Point" Price: Well, it's on the back of his head. So I don't know if he can. (Oh, my GOD. The man is severely injured. Of course he can't put pressure on his own head. He might not even know where his head is at this point! Get your Amazon ass down there and help the man! What is wrong with you?!)

911 operator: He has to put pressure on that wound

Shannon "I'll Do This From A Distance" Price, yelling from the top of the stairs: Gary, you've gotta put pressure on your wound. No, Gary. Don't! Roxy!...(Roxy seems to be their dog. Good to know that she's making sure that the animals are all present and accounted for during this time.) He's lethargic. I can't really help him. I just need help quick. (Oh, but you CAN help him, you nitwit! You're just NOT going to! You clearly are capable of having about as much compassion as does a dining room table.) I just can't be here with the blood. I'm sorry. I just can't do it. I can't. I have my dog. Come on! Gary, what is wrong?! (You have to ask what's wrong? He's massively bleeding from his dome. He's alone in the downstairs of his house. He hears your annoying voice coming from somewhere and yelling at him. I think that there's plenty wrong.)

This sad tale continues along the same lines for a little while longer.

Shannon "But I Have Seizures" Price: There's blood going all over and I can't do anything. He's sitting up now. He's sitting up, but his head is all bloody in the back. And I can't drive. Because, you know, like I said, I have seizures and I've been sick and you know, I can't do anything right now, you know. OH, my God. I don't know what happened. I just asked him if he could go make me some food and he was like "OK" and then I don't know. But his head is all bloody and gross, you know.

911 operator (who deserves a medal or a raise or something for not screaming at that woman by now): He's conscious now?

Shannon "I State The Obvious" Price: He's conscious, but he's not, like, with it. And I don't know if he had a seizure. (No. You're the one who has seizures, sweetie. Try and keep up.) I don't know if he just hit his head and fell. Cause he was like, I mean, he wasn't in like convulsions or anything, you know what I mean? (long silence) I mean, I can't get around right now as it is, you know what I mean? (Actually, no. I don't know. But I certainly don't want you explaining it to me NOW.)

Saintly 911 operator: Shannon, can you help him put pressure on the back of his head?

Shannon "Completely Useless" Price: No. I can't. It's like all bloody. And he's like, not with it. I asked him and he's....

911 operator who is getting tired of this crap: He's going to need to put pressure on that. Is there any way that you can give him a towel?

Shannon "No Help At All" Price: Yeah. I can try...(inaudible)...I just don't want him to freaking die, you know? I'm freaking out." (You can hear her taking her time an ambling down the stairs.) Gary, don't move. Don't move! You have to try and put this on your head. (I'm assuming this is where she throws the towel at him and hopes that he's lucid enough to figure out which way is up so he can help save himself.) Put pressure on it! (Good idea. Yell at the man. That should do it.) There is like blood all fricking over....I don't even know why you're standing. (Good. That's it! Keep berating the man as he bleeds in front of you. Perfect. You should be a doctor.) Here!

This is just making me sad. Very sad. I don't know what killed the guy, but surely her pansiness and her unwillingness to help her own husband played some sort of a part in it. How much blood did he lose because she was not willing to put pressure on his wound? I realize she's seizure-ific or whatever, but it's the man's life! Here's the end of the 911 call (it follows the same vein of patheticness as the dialogue which preceded it):

911 operator: Tell him to sit down.

Shannon "I'm Getting Annoyed" Price: You need to sit down! Gary, sit down! Sit down! (Um, that woman said "tell" not "yell".)

(Seems to be yelling from far away)

(Gary says something)

Shannon "My Floor!" Price: Look at the floor! Sit down! Sit down!
911 operator who is praying the paramedics are there: Check and see if they've arrived.

Shannon "I Can't Answer The Door" Price: Tell them to come in. I'm gagging. I've got blood on myself. I can't deal. (I think I might actually have a hatred for this chick.)

This is where the 911 operator tells her to go to the front door and open it because if she's gagging, she wants her to go and open the door and get away from what is making her gag. That's all that Mr. Coleman would have needed to hear. His beloved bride, gagging at his inconvenient gash in his cranial unit which is causing her all sorts of internal discomfort. But I noticed that it seemed like not less than 3 second after the 911 operator tells her this that she is opening the door.

Shannon "This Is All About Me" Price: I just can't stand very long, you know? And I'm like, panic stricken. The call ends about 10 seconds after this last round of her whining about what her problems are. Whatever.

The entire time that she was on the phone with the 911 operator, her voice was constantly as calm as if she was just ordering a pizza. The only time when her voice was not calm was when she was screaming at her injured husband. I find this odd. I find this sad. And I find this incredibly disturbing. She spent more time telling the 911 operator about herself and what was wrong with her and what grossed her out and what might happen to her than she did talking about Gary. I don't usually (directly) call names, but she has definitely earned the title of "bitch".

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You're Not Being Kidnapped; You're Drunk

You know, there's being drunk and then there's being drunk. But apparently, you can get so drunk that you're completely unaware of what is going on around you. On top of that, you're also so obliterated that you're completely unable to process anything going on around you. That's when you call 911 and tell them that you're being kidnapped. That's right. Kidnapped. By those nice police officers giving you a ride home. Wait. What?

Correct. According to the fine folks over yonder at NJ.com, this intoxicated individual, whose name was not released (and for which this individual is probably thanking God for repeatedly) had been found by law enforcement officers when they were investigating a different call. At some point and for some reason, they decided to transport the man home. Now, to do so, they had to put him in the back seat of the police cruiser. Seems reasonable.

I don't know about you, but I've been in a police car before. (I'm not saying whether it was the front or the back, either.) And I can tell you that it looks nothing like a regular car. In fact, it looks pretty different from most cars except cars that are police cars. It wouldn't be all that hard to discern that one was in a police car even if one was completely obliterated. I mean, even if you couldn't figure that out from the interior of the vehicle, you'd think that the uniformed chaps driving the thing might be a clue. Nope. Not for our hero here.

Nope. As he was "...being driven to his southern New Jersey home by troopers" the man "...called 911 and claimed they were kidnapping him." Now, can someone explain to me why every single recording of someone calling 911 because the McDonald's was out of McNuggets is available for public consumption, but something as highly entertaining as this has not yet been released?! Why is that?! I need to hear how THAT went down!

The article states that "After making the fake 911 call, he continued to be disorderly despite repeated warnings." What's more disorderly than calling 911 and saying that you're being kidnapped when a couple of state troopers are giving you a ride home because you're completely plowed? I can't imagine and the article doesn't say. It's quite unfortunate if you're asking me.

I'm sure that you can guess how this whole thing worked itself out, right? You got it. "When the troopers pulled over and tried to arrest him, he resisted but was eventually restrained and taken back to the barracks. He was charged with disorderly conduct, resisting arrest and obstruction." That man is a genius. Pure genius, I'm telling you. Oh, but how I wish they had done a breathalyzer test on him. I'd like to know exactly what one's blood alcohol content has to be in order to not recognize that some policemen are giving you a ride home and you are not being kidnapped (in what must have seemed like a technologically well-outfitted gang of kidnappers).

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She Am Them

No one is in favor of DUI. Pretty much, I think it's safe to say everyone thinks it's a bad idea. That being said, I have some awesome DUI stories here. It takes a certain sort of numb nut to pull stuff like this off. Thank goodness neither of these morons hurt anyone in the midst of their drunken stupor in which they felt the need to drive. Idiots.

First, we'll go to Salem, Oregon and meet a one Calvin Hoover. According to KGW News Channel 8 over there in Portland, our friend Calvin there had called authorities to report a theft from his truck outside of the Free Loader Tavern (catchy), but by the time that a deputy showed up, Calvin and his truck were gone. But that wouldn't be the last that the authorities heard from him.

Calvin called back about an hour later and explained that he had left because he got tired of waiting (he thought that it was taking them too long). He was obviously driving when he made the second 911 call and was also obviously intoxicated. The dispatcher did have a bit of a problem trying to understand Calvin, as he had to keep pulling over. That's right. To throw up. Aim high, Cal! Aim. High.

Now, because the media is crap, the article doesn't tell us exactly how it came to be that they located ol' Calvin, but they did. He was walking, obviously plastered, down a street not too far from where he had parked his truck (probably after the last round of vomiting). He explained to the officer that approached him that he was looking for the people who had stolen from him earlier. He told them that "he was looking for the people who took his "weed.” Um...wait. What now? Your...weed?

Correct. His weed. His marijuana. Stolen. It would seem that the items that had been taken from his truck earlier included "...$400 in cash, a Carhartt jacket and 3/4 ounces of pot valued at $180". All stolen out of his truck. All reported to the police (in between hurling the contents of his stomach in reverse order out onto the pavement) as stolen. Where the hell do I begin?

What is wrong with you people who are on drugs?! I mean, aside from being on drugs! Obviously THAT is an issue. I know that drugs don't exactly enhance your cerebral functioning (no matter what Timothy Leary or Hunter S. Thompson might want you to believe), but do they make you so incredibly stupid that you think you can go to the cops when your stash gets stolen? Do you really think that the cops are going to overlook your illegal dealings because you ended up on the wrong end of the bong? I don't think they are! Honestly, how much do you have to drink to believe that your crimes no longer matter if you're somehow wronged in some way? How much? A gallon? Two? It has to be a lot because that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.

Calvin was arrested and charged with DUI. The geniuses over there at KGW felt the need to include that the police "...warned him he would face possession charges if he had had marijuana with him, since he didn’t have a medical marijuana card. " Were you folks not paying attention? Hello! McFly! Anybody home? His marijuana was STOLEN! That's why he called the cops! Your news media, hard at work, ladies and gentlemen. What else is there?

Well, there's this lovely lady who hails from Wisconsin that we could take a look at. From a blog which calls itself "What's Wrong With Wisconsin" (a simply awesome name) we learn about a woman, a one Mary Strey, who was driving home on what appears to have been Halloween night when she called 911 to report a drunk driver. There you go! A good citizen! Helping out her fellow Wisconsinites by alerting the authorities to the presence of an irresponsible drunk driver on the roadways. Good for you lady! Right? Not so fast.

See, the drunk driver that Mary Strey was calling to report was herself! That's right. She was the drunk driver. When the dispatcher asked her if she was behind them, she replied, "I am them." (To which the awesome dispatcher, just to clarify, asked, "You am them?" How great is that? Of course she replied, "I am them." All rightee then. Carry on!)

The dispatcher coaxed her into pulling over and putting on her flashers. She had a pretty good idea as to where she was, but didn't seem aware as to what direction she was traveling in, a point that I'm not going to fault her for. (Hey, I'm rarely aware of which direction I'm traveling in when I'm not drunk. Do I look like I'm carrying a compass around with me all the time?) She stopped, turned off her car, turned on her flashers, took off her seatbelt and waited for the cops to get there so that they could follow procedure, give her a field sobriety test and let her fail miserably. Later, it would be determined that she had a BAC of 0.17, over 2 times the legal limit of 0.08. (Both of those numbers are figures that mean absolutely nothing to anyone unless you've been stopped for DUI. No one knows how much that really is, only that it's illegal. Personally, I'd be OK if they went to a system that instead of giving us a number, they just gave us a name for the condition that the intoxicated individuals are in. Plowed, Really Plowed, Completely Smashed, Obliterated and Can't Believe He's Alive. Or something like those. I'm flexible on the actual terminology.)

I don't really know what to think about this one. Do I want people to be SO stupid that not only will they drink and drive, but they'll call 911 on themselves when they do so? I...I...I don't know that I do. Do I? Oooh!! This is a tough one! I don't know! I don't know! It almost seems as if this would be the only instance in which advocating for idiocy would come in handy, but those idiots won't be drunk and driving all the time, would they? They'd still be idiots even when they weren't drunk, right? Yeah, I'm sorry, I just can't make that trade. I'm going to have to go with wanting people to be smart enough to not drink and drive - period. The audio of Ms. Strey's 911 call is below. It is, in a word, hilarious. Enjoy.

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Lost & Hungry Dumbass Calls 911

For hell's sake, Florida! Get moving on that public awareness campaign explaining the appropriate uses for the 911 emergency system. Are there really THAT many dumbasses that think that 911 is for the everyday head scratchers that pop up from time to time? I mean, I realize that we're talking about Florida here, so I'm willing to cut them a little bit of slack on that merit alone, but I think folks have greatly underestimated the number of morons who live in Florida! If they don't get moving on some sort of way to spell out what sort of situation constitutes an emergency, they're going to continue to get calls from folks who are hungry.

Wait. Hungry? What now?

Correct. Hungry. Meet Benjamin Dewer. Behold!

Is he wearing mascara? You know what? Never mind. I don't want to know. According to the Sun-Sentinel, it would seem that Mr. Dewer, who hails from Delray Beach, Florida, called 911 around 1am on Wednesday because, as he said to the 911 operator who asked if he had an emergency, "I'm lost." He then elaborated a little bit with, "I don't know where the hell I'm at. I'm trying to figure out how to get back to Delray. I'm lost. I'm homeless. I haven't eaten in like...2 weeks. I, um, I just got pulled over by a cop before by a park. But I don't know what park it is. I don't know where the hell I'm at." (Considering that tattoo on the front of his neck says "NYC" it's no wonder he doesn't know where the hell he's at.)

Wow, 2 weeks! But wait a minute. If he's homeless, then technically he isn't really lost. He's home! I don't see the problem here. If you don't have a home to go to, it doesn't matter if you know where you are because that's your home! See, these things don't need to be so complicated! They're quite simple and can be solved without the help of the 911 system. But if you live in Florida, you're apparently under the impression that 911 is there to help you through life when it gets a little tricky. Like trying to find a SIGN which will tell you where you ARE. Dumbass.

The 911 operator (who was, like most of the 911 operators who take these calls, was a saint) asked him to look for a sign, to which he told her than when he looked to his left all he saw were "like trees and everything" and when he looked to his right it was a bunch of "houses....and stuff." Hard to pinpoint his location with only "trees" and "houses" and "stuff" as things that stand out to the lost one. (What did he think was going to happen? Was he expecting the 911 operator to reply, "Did you say 'stuff'? Trees and STUFF? I know EX-actly where that is! Sure. The trees and stuff. In Florida! I'll send someone right on over to the trees and stuff. Make sure the 'stuff' is visible!") But he needed someone to help him find his way soon because he told the operator "And I can't walk no more and I haven't eaten in like three days." Three? What happened to two weeks? I see what's going on here. He's nothing more than a lost liar is what he is!

He then went on to say that he was trying to walk up the block and he was "just tired". Why he was walking is beyond me, considering that he said earlier that he was pulled over by a cop. Pulled over to the side of the road...by his...collar? I don't think that happened. I AM starting to think that those 4 words which explain these situations may be in play here. (Alcohol may be involved.)

Did I mention he called twice? He did. Twice. Called 911.

The second time he started off the conversation with, "Yeah, I need to be transferred to Internal Affairs. Or something." Hoo-boy, here it comes.

"Internal Affairs or the sergeant or someone who is on duty right NOW, but not in the streets because I called you before and I asked for some help and I just got harassed by the cop so I need to be either transferred to Internal Affairs or....." It takes him a couple of seconds, but he finally narrows it down to who he needs to be transferred to! "....like....IFA or FBI maybe! Maybe you can transfer me to somebody because there's like six cops down the block and I asked for you to help me and the cops......they were just laughing at me and making jokes and I need to make a complaint! And I need to be transferred to Internal Affairs or somebody. Yes! Internal Affairs, Miss."

During his soliloquy, the 911 operator tried to get him to pipe down, but to no avail. She checked with him after it seemed like he was done and asked, "Are you ready for me to talk now?" And he replied with an assured, "Yep!" I'm sure he was just waiting for that speedy transfer to the people in Internal Affairs so that he could lodge his complaint, maybe get something to eat and hopefully have someone tell him where in the hell he was. Yeah, it didn't work out quite like that.

When asked why he had called 911 before, he didn't really have an answer for her. It's too bad that he didn't have that blank brain cramp before he had called 911 the first time, as it might have caused him to NOT call. In the meantime, while he was straining what functioning gray matter he could access, he said that there were cops that were coming over to talk to him. Whew! 911 operator tell him to go and talk to them and he responds with a very polite, "Bye-bye." What a maroon.

Apparently, after the first time that he called 911, the cops did "find" him and talk to him. It was at that point that he requested a ride and something to eat. That would probably explain the "laughing" the cops were doing that he was telling the 2nd 911 operator about. So....what? They laughed at his ridiculous request and then just left him there? The police report states that he was drunk (Ah-HA! Alcohol WAS involved!), so I'm not sure why they left him there the first time and didn't arrest him right then. But I guess the bottom line is that he DID get arrested. He appeared in court the next day and pled guilty to misusing 911 and will spend the next 10 days in jail where I'm sure he will be fed and won't have to worry about being hungry or lost. Man, talk about your speedy trial.

What I would have preferred is that he plead guilty to being a dumbass. Doesn't Flori-duh need some sort of a dumbass statute? If you're found guilty under the dumbass statute for using 911 for something that is so NOT an emergency then you can't get out of jail until you're able to explain how the system works and WHY it works that way. Granted, most of the folks that would be found guilty under the dumbass statute are going to have to learn to read and write before they can complete their 'Get Out Of Jail' assignment, but I'm OK with that. They're off the streets, away from phones, not lost and not hungry. Sounds like an all around win in this particular situation.

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Flori-duhs It Again

Sadly, there's still a need in Florida for some sort of PSA on the appropriate reasons to call 911. Honest to

God, I did not think that it was that difficult for folks to comprehend and understand what the definition of an emergency is. And I understand that there's a wide range of things which DO constitute an emergency, but not being able to find your car keys isn't one of them. Jackass.

According to an article over there at UPI, a one Lin Xu (pronounce that however you'd like to), age old-enough-to-know-better-by-27, "...called 911 several times early Saturday from a pay phone outside of a Walgreens store in Boynton Beach."The article doesn't state what it was that he told the 911 operator, but whatever it was, it was enough for officers to actually show up!He told them that "... he called the emergency line because he lost his house key." To which, I'm assuming, the officers response was, "And....?" I'm thinking that there might have been alcohol involved due to Mr. Unpronounceable giving the officers an address in Texas. And that is where the UPI report of this account goes a bit astray when they include "... it was not clear whether he recently moved to Florida or was visiting at the time of the incident." What now?

It wasn't clear if he lived there or was visiting? Did he have ID? How do they not know that? What part exactly wasn't clear? Are those the only two choices? Florida and Texas? Perhaps the gentleman was from a, um...a...foreign land and was, um.....visiting! Yeah, that's it! Visiting our fine nation, perhaps unannounced and unexpected (with no intent of ever leaving)!

If so, then it would have made perfect sense to a one Monte Hilton to call 911 for a ride home, as that's what he did on August 25 in Tampa. The guy needed a ride, so he went to a pay phone and called 911. (What is it with folks in Florida who are unclear on the concept of 911?! Are they also unclear on the concept of cell phones?! I didn't even know that there were pay phones around anymore! Then again, I don't live in Flori-duh.) "Hinton hung up when a dispatcher answered, but deputies were already responding and found Hinton near the phone." I find it difficult to believe that there wasn't some other pressing issue for the officers to tend to other than a pay phone using, 911 calling, rideless guy, but at least they're doing their job! Can't complain about that.

Meanwhile, since Florida is such a completely sane and stable area of the country, we have a woman over in Niceville who was not being very nice. Again, according to the UPI account of this incident, a woman was arrested "...for attacking a smoker with air freshener sprayed from a can." Of course she was. What now?

It would seem that said fresh scent wielding woman was "...waving the can of Glade Potpourri Air Freshener around the other woman's head while dispensing its contents at a Niceville apartment complex." Again, not very nice. And surprisingly, that had no effect upon Smokey Smokerson, who kept right on a-puffin'. That's when the woman (allegedly) "... pointed the can at the back of the other woman's head and sprayed it for nearly a full minute."

Now, a minute is a long time if you're spraying a fresh summer's breeze at someone's head. But I'd think it would be even longer for the person who was the target of said refreshing aerosol based scent. If someone is spraying air freshener at me in that fashion, I'm certainly not going to just sit there for an entire minute as they do so! Why didn't this person get up and deck this lady? (Oh. Wait. Flori-duh. Maybe the Rascal scooter that they use to get around had malfunctioned in some manner. Or perhaps the oxygen tubing got tangled up somewhere. You can't swing a dead cat in Flori-duh without hitting someone on oxygen.)

According to the police, the crazy spraying woman told them, "I will do it again, and take it to the Supreme Court because I have the right to breathe fresh air." Um, yeah. That's about your typical Florida argument right there. Quoting things that don't exist. That and/or pretending to know what's in the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. See, while I agree that breathing fresh air is desirable, I'm not really recalling it being in the Bill of Rights OR the Constitution. Let's see...freedom of speech...right to arm bears...a warrant would be nice...speedway trials....unusual crullers....huh. Nope. Nothing about fresh air in there.

And to complete the Flori-duh trifecta, we saunter on over to Tallahassee where the AP informs us of a one Richard Irby who is a "...55-year-old man known for biking around Tallahassee wearing nothing but a thong". Well, this can't end well.

Said Mr. Irby "...is facing a misdemeanor charge of disorderly conduct for exposing himself." What did I tell ya? Not ending well. Any sort of grundle exposure is not a well ending.

Mr. Irby is 6-foot-3 and weighs 220 pounds. And he was wearing a thong. JUST a thong. Well, yes, I'd say that he WAS exposing himself at SOME point, as I don't think that a thong is designed to contain 220 pounds of a 6 foot, 3-inch cyclist! It's barely designed to contain anything, let alone...THAT!But let's just think about this for half a second. :::shudder:::: Yes, yes! I know it's not pleasant. Half a second, that's all!

This guy is known as the Bicycling Bikini Man. This is what he does. People know that. I'm not sure if it's OK with people that he does this, or if they're just used to it (as much as you can get used to seeing a 220 pound guy with a thong go a-pedalin' past you), but there has to be something else going on here. If he was just out to bike around in as little as possible, you can still get that same effect by wearing something other than a thong. Those really short NBA shorts from the late 70s and early 80s, for example. Those are short, yet they would contain ones nether regions a hell of a lot better than your basic plum smuggler would! But yet he chooses the thong. That leaves us with two choices. He's either a pedophile or he's not quite right in the head. Possibly both, definitely not neither.

TampaBay.com reports that "...Irby suffered a traumatic brain injury while in high school." Ah-ha! And another piece of the puzzle falls into place. "Almost four decades later, he still walks and speaks with difficulty. Problems with concentration and a tendency to behave oddly keep him from working." Really? "A tendency to behave oddly"? Really? A guy busting around town on a bike wearing a banana hammock is behaving oddly? Thanks for that, Captain Obvious.

OK, look, this one has a pretty simple solution. It seems pretty clear that the guy wasn't trying to expose himself. I also don't think that he's trying to hurt anyone or offend anyone. That being said however, I don't think that he has the ability to exercise discretion in certain situations...like those requiring pants. If there's any sort of rational thinking going on at the DA's office there in Tallahassee, they'll make a deal with this guy. They'll tell him he has to at least wear a pair of shorts when he rides his bike. If they don't have any complaints about him riding with just a thong for the next...6 months? Is that fair? 6 months with no "Oh, my God!" complaints and the charges get dropped? Seems reasonable to me.

Then again, pants seem reasonable to me. Someone get that guy some trousers and let's hope that sanity prevails for this one.

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