Free Gas or Gun?

A car dealership in Missouri is offering a free 250 dollar gas card or a GUN if you buy a car.  I guess it’s either, drive somewhere or rob a convenience store for gas money?  Or maybe the gun is for shooting other drivers that hamper your journey to your destination?  Then you can ciphon the gas out of their tanks and carry onward…seems very logical. 

The owner of the Missouri car dealership said that they cling to their bibles and guns in the midwest…really?  Is jesus advocating gun violence now?  You know how everyone twists shit around…the bible is a 20,000 century game of telephone…you tell the secret in the circle and by the time you get to the end; it’s warped.  Duh, I learned that shit in Kindergarten…and that was with 40 kids…now imagine a trillion zillion people? 

If you have to cling to something; I think guns and bibles are about the worst option out there…how about doing what the static does and cling to laundry?  Or the clingons?  Do what they do?  Or here is a really ludicrious suggestion?  How about thinking for yourself instead of having some peice of paper handed down from a zillion years ago think for you?  Wow, what a concept.  How about instead of a gun?  A homemade shank made out of soap?  Or maybe a homemade pipe bomb?  Let’s use the resources we have at home and not be wasteful…

What do people use guns for? ** In LA, gangs use them to shoot each other and to sell…I really don’t know what else someone does with a gun…it’s super rare to get shot randomly (knock on wood) or even someone who tries to forcefully kidnap you with a gun is so rare*…if you run; you have a very small chance of getting shot…getting shot is harder to do than getting struck by lightening…granted you live in somewhere relatively safe.  (devoid of my neighborhood whereupon, you can get shot at anytime..pretty much…but look at me; I’m still alive!  and I encounter at least a few gang shootings a week or at least somewhere in the vicinity of my locale…)  I hear the shots…I mean I barely hear them now cuz I’ve lived in hoodrat neighborhoods since forever…it’s like how some people hear the birds…I hear gunshots… 

I digress…over 30 people have bought cars and they all choose GUNS…except a Canadian dude and a really old dude (quoted by the car dealership owner)…Super, now there is a few dozen more meth heads in Kansas City roaming the streets with handguns, handguns that fit easily into a purse or pocket…The owner of this above-mentioned car dealership is advising people to get the little gun so they can conceal it?  huh?

Maybe he is secretly hoping they will put it in their pockets and accidentally shoot themselves…just doing a little population control.  What is up with people not having the safety on with their silly guns and shooting themselves?  If you owned a gun; wouldn’t you always have the safety on?  You know to ensure your SAFETY…you take that fucker off when a burgular enters your shitty house that probably has nothing good in it to rob anyway..in that case, just tell him that he’s wasting his time and give him a good address to someone’s house who has good shit so the damn burgular doesn’t waste his time or yours.    

I’m concerned about just giving guns away to random people…do they do criminal checks on these people?  Or are the people of KC just smart cookies…get the handgun and you can get 250 dollars on your own from goddamn 711 and a few of those rotten hot dogs too!  Win/win…

* These are actually statistics given to me by a police officer, not some random crap I pulled out of my keister. 

** Don’t try and tell me guns are for protection either…I’m not buying that you are so self important that people will waste their time and risk going to jail to shoot YOU.  Puhleez, no one likes you enough to sacrifice their freedom or life just for the gleeful pleasure of shooting YOU.  You self-important fuck.

     

CSI NYC

They film CSI NYC on my street…I generally do not care.  I guess these fools think this is the closest thing to NYC in LA…whatever.  The only thing that really does indeed annoy the living crap out of me is; when idiots from Idaho walk up to me and ask; “Is this where they film CSI?”  “Where do I park?  I shouldn’t have to pay 25 dollars to park?”  I’m an ACTOR (using the term loosely…in the loosest sense of the term)…

I reply with; “everyone has to pay it”…(except me cuz I bring the parking guys food and livations…ha, that’s how I roll)…but I didn’t tell em my secret.  I really wanted to add; “if you are an extra on a tv show; that does not constitute an acting career” but I held my tongue, mostly cuz I was in a rush to get to work.

Then my parking attendent buddy Horacio tells me the elevator is broken so I have to walk up the stairs…no worries I tell him in broken spanglish…I end with “buenos dias mi amigito, gracias”.  He smiles and nods.

I hike the 5 or more flights of stairs…huffing and puffing cuz I’m wearing heels and I don’t take stairs as a rule and I have a lung hanging out of my ass which makes stair walking a triffle difficult.  I digress, I reach the top and do a little victory dance and I hear someone screaming about being “stranded”.

Lo and behold; it’s some of those CSI freaks…a woman who is 50-ish and a plastic surgery nightmare…blonde hair, (Miss Clairol #32, white trash blonde…) kind of gangly looking, eyebrows up to her hairline, hallowed out cheeks, tightened skin like she’d been permanatly on a roller coaster ride and plump donald duck lips.  She is screaming that she is stranded…screaming at the tippy top of her blackened lungs.  There is a crew of youngish dudes behind her (about my age) and they looked embarressed and I assumed them to be her lackys or bitches for lack of a better term.

It appeared to this lady that I just formulated out of thin air…she was so concerned how and where i came from…I inform her I’m the omni present and I’m everywhere and only special people can see me.  Then I proceed to inform her the elevator is broken.

She is gripped with fright and paralyzed with fear.  She says to me; “Oh my god, I’m stranded…I don’t know what to do!!”  She starts yelling and freaking the fuck out. (I am thinking to myself; if a broken elevator is the worse thing that has happened to you; you are sitting pretty however, I would hate to see her handle the unsavory foot traffic of the homeless heroin addicts once she gets down to the street level…if a simple broken elevator constitutes this type of reaction…)  How does she react if she breaks a nail, trips and falls, someone beats her with a lead pipe?  This broad needs some serious survival skills. oy vey!

I decide to be a doll and do a little problem solving (aha, recalling an earlier blog…a clever comedy/writing ploy used by those who can remember that far back…usually in the rare absence of drugs…we’re in a recession; who can afford that shit anymore?  And if you have their number, could you forward it to me?)…I tell the woman; “you know those things that got you to the elevator door from your Lincoln Navigator drug dealing mobile?”  I believe they are called legs?  “Hmmm, yeah…they also work pretty well for the stairs.”  You’re welcome for the tip.

The dudes behind her were snickering and smirking and trying not to laugh.  She stares at me like i’m an alien talking about something completely and totally foreign…jibberish if you will.  You would’ve thought I asked her to dismember the pope the way she was staring me down with ice cold frozen eyes (frozen cuz of the botox mostly)…

She then grabs her cell phone and proceeds to call someone screaming; “I’m stranded..the elevator is broken and I can’t get out of this parking garage…I’m going to die in here”…(talk about mellow dramatic…shis…)

I went to my gig, was gone for 3-4 hours, came back and was expecting to see her half eaten carcass laying in the middle of the parking garage…But I didn’t…instead I did see the carcass’ of some of those extras from Idaho laying haphazardly out of the dumpster.  I thought to myself; I’m so glad that lady didn’t DIE in the parking garage and she used her vast cinematic knowledge for good use and decided to follow suit of that airplane movie. 

No one likes extras anyways…that’s why they are called “extras”…they are extra food in case the Kraft services table runs out of food or people end up trapped in parking garages in downtown LA due to broken elevators and they are just too damn lazy to take the stairs.