My Interesting Life - 7/26/2019

Yesterday, while minding my own business, I missed getting into a traffic accident by ten feet or so, then I saw some poor little kid get punched out and decked by an adult while at my local Kroger's.  Here's my rant, complete with racist, misogynist, misandrist, and politically incorrect and callous comments.

All you special little snowflakes and SJWs better plug your ears and blind yourself with number two pencils before continuing.

I'd been putting off my grocery shopping all day.  I just didn't have the ambition, and there's food and liquor in the house, so if I don't want to go, what the fuck?  I live alone, or rather Danté and I live alone, and Danté, being a cat who came in from the alley, is not particular about what kind of dry cat food he eats.  He doesn't like tuna fish because it reminds him of the time he spent looking for a little safety from dogs and ass hole zipperhead lawn boys who chased him with a weed whacker.  The local maintenance man put a stop to that and threatened them with deportation.  Damned gooks.

So around seven o'clock that evening I decided a run to the grocery was in order.  I was northbound on McNaughten Road, intending to make a left on to E Main Street, and got hung up behind a moke at the light.  The moke finally goes, then I've got to wait for some soccer mom in a mini-van who is being tailgated by a dumb-ass fat lady in a sedan.  Now I'm clear, except for one car - another mini-van - but he's about 400 feet north of me.  The green arrow changes to yellow, and I check his position to see if he's going to try and beat the light.  I estimate his speed at 35 mph (51 feet per second) and he can't possibly make it in time.  So, since I'm in the intersection, I start my turn.

Everyone reading this knows what happens next, but I'm going to say it anyway.

Instead of stopping, which he has plenty of room and time to do, the silly son-of-a-bitch speeds up.  I'm watching, and I see him put the hammer down.  He's closing fast, so I put my foot in it, and he misses me by maybe ten feet or so.

Northbound on McNaughten, South of E Main

The Intersection, Courtesy of Google Maps

The very next thing I hear are squealing tires and the distinctive crump of a nasty fender bender.  This clown nailed somebody.

I'm not terribly civic minded.  The way I see it, the ubiquitous Average Joe has enough problems of his own without me trying to help him.  But in this case, half of me argues, said ubiquitous Average Joe was being a complete ass hole and as a result, some poor schmuck has a brand new set of problems, likely starting with physical injury.  Ah, hell.  I find a place to turn around, then I head back to the scene of the crime.  The accident isn't as bad as I thought it might be.  The ass hole in question turns out to be some ugly old white guy who is loudly claiming his innocence to anyone who'll listen.  The driver of the other car, the alleged victim in this case, is a middle aged black woman, about 5'2" tall, maybe 375 pounds.  She is clearly shaken up and has that deer in the headlights look to her.  I park my heap in the City Barbecue lot, and about that time officialdom rolls in with sirens, lights, and authority.

I gave my statement to a nice looking lady cop who'd been on the job less than one year.  When she asks for ID, I pull my CCW license along with my DL and pass them over.  When she asks if I'm packing heat, I tell her 'No, as I didn't see a need for it.' and explained I showed her my CCW to add to my credibility.  It means I passed a background check and am not, generally speaking, an Average Joe.  When she asks if I'd be willing to testify in court, I tell her that I would consider it an honer and a privilege to go to court and testify.  Which is the truth.

The circus finally breaks up, and we all go our merry ways.  Or at least we leave.

Now I'm at Kroger's, and having filled my short list I decide that a frozen pizza is on the menu tonight, because I don't feel like cooking and I don't feel like eating out.  The frozen foods section is pretty much empty.  There yours truly, and about 20 feet away a family of three: Mom, Dad, Son of about 10 years old, tall, slender build.  I don't know what they're doing; I'm searching for my pizza.  They don't have my regular make and model, so I'm busy reallocating my marginal utilities.

Ever hear someone get slugged in the midsection?  I hear that, and when I look over the kid is doubled up on the deck, crying and rolling back and forth.  The father (I'm thinking boyfriend here) says something about, "You got to learn to watch out for them doors, boy."  Then the mother says, "Now he's crying.  Good job."  Mom doesn't seem all that upset, and the guy, a middle aged black packing a lot of beef around his upper body, has that satisfied look. 

The trouble is, I didn't see the punch.

Again, I'm not all that civic minded, but on my way to the check out register I get to thinking about this.  The Mom isn't doing much, so either A) she doesn't give a damn, or B) she gets slapped around at home, and maybe worse.  Then there's the kid.  When I left the aisle, he'd managed to get to his feet, but was still doubled up.  The man says that it was an accident, the kid says "You did that on purpose!"  Which, I think, he probably did.

I cash out, and find a security guard outside.  I tell him what I've seen, how the people were dressed, and he tells me that, "I'm a father, and that kind of shit doesn't fly around here."  He's carrying a few extra pounds, but he's also built pretty solid.  I guess I might have hung around to see if a witness was needed, but these are the sort of people that will start right up if questioned.

Had I actually seen the punch, I would have left my cart and gone to security immediately.  But I didn't, and that's that.

Now iTunes refuses to play my iPod, stating that something isn't loaded.  So I guess it's back to the old salt mines for me this morning.

Have a nice Friday.