A 19-year-old mother in Phoenix accidentally left her five-week-old son on the roof of her car and drove off. The baby was fortunately in his child safety seat and suffered no injuries. According to the report, she admitted to smoking marijuana, which may have contributed to her forgetfulness. Her coffee, however, was securely placed in a cupholder and is fine despite being from Starbucks.
On a positive note, neither the pot nor the roof-top baby incident should bar her entry into the 2028 presidential campaign.
For those of you reading this on your mobile device while walking and listening to music, turn off that music right now. According to researchers from the University of Maryland, “serious injuries to pedestrians listening to headphones have more than tripled in six years,” and that number will only go up as we get older and/or the music playing through those headphones gets louder.
70 percent of headphone-wearing pedestrians in their study of 116 cases ended in death. (No one reported whether the iPod or Zune was OK.) And this was despite over half of the accidents involving trains, which, c’mon, kind of give away where they’re coming from with tracks.
At least a third of the 116 accidents involving cars and trains tried to alert pedestrians with their horns, but this blended in seamlessly with listeners’ techno and dubstep mixes. The study did not account for people of superior musical taste who aimed for the pedestrians and then sounded their horn in a victorious yawp.
Bonus: The article in the link comes from an online section of the USA Today titled, “DriveOn.”
We suppose that if we’ve run one of Boston’s biggest newspapers since 1872 — spanning from the booze-soaked aftermath of the Civil War through the rise of the Kennedys — we’d probably be surprised, too, if the state’s current lieutenant governor managed to flip his car over while stone sober.
A woman charged with domestic violence and assault reportedly resisted arrest by spraying arresting police officers with breast milk. To specify: she hadn’t previously pumped it out, but whipped out an actual tittie (the right one, according to the Sheriff) and forcibly lactated on multiple deputies.
The plan backfired when the human breast milk–which is the best for growing police officers–gave the deputies stronger bones and muscles and delayed the onset of their osteoporosis, enabling them to remove her from her car.
Controversial Pastor Terry Jones, who torched a Koran in his church’s backyard to goad his Middle Eastern equivalents to riot in Afghanistan, has courageously traveled to Dearborn, Mich.
He heard there are a lot of Muslims he could protest there, but not the scary ones that kill antagonistic white Christian bigots.
In fact, Terry’s so mantastically badass that he accidentally fired a gun, which he believed he would still need for protection, in his car.
Don’t worry, though: our Christian warrior missed his what-must-be-tremendous balls.
Waaaaaay back in October 2008, when the pressing concern was how to vote, I wrote about the hidden messages behind bumper stickers. While you may think your memorial bumper sticker tells everyone that you are a passionate person in pain, to everyone else it signals that you might have a death wish to join your lost loved one and to steer clear.
At the time, I thought that was the only way to judge our fellow drivers … until I saw a P.T. Cruiser.
It was at that point that I realized that, while not every car has bumper stickers, every driver chooses a car to express themselves/pick up chicks. (Or, in the case of the minivan, to prevent your spouse from ever picking up chicks again.)
And yeah, I just called your van a car. So’s your truck and SUV. If you’re driving it to work and back, never using it to off-road, it’s a goddamn car. Continue reading Take it from Snee: Your car and you
I currently reside in a magical town in Virginia. It’s not as super upbeat as where the Bryans live, and it’s not as economically stimulating as where Rick lives, but it does the job. Of course, just 10 minutes down the road from me is the neighboring town of Salem. Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is a truly magical town. No, not because of some kooky witch-based pun, but because in that town, anything can happen.
The sky is green, left is right, orange is taupe and cars crash into the back of offices, rather than the front.
Well, at least one of those things is true.
It’s a big day for RAM members in Virginia, as the House of Delegates has passed a slew of laws to ease gun enforcement in the Commonwealth. Among the best ones which passed the Senate and await signing:
- Repealing the one-gun-a-month sales limit. Now you can buy all of your relatives guns for Christmas at the last minute.
- Allowing “gun owners without a concealed carry permit to lock handguns in a vehicle or boat.” Because hiding a gun in your car or boat until it’s time to spring it on someone isn’t the same thing as concealing it.
- Allowing “those with a concealed carry permit to take hidden guns into restaurants that sell alcohol as long as they don’t drink.” Thank God. There is nobody scarier than the drunk Happy Hourers in TGIFridays. It’s well-documented that bikers drinking Mojo-jitos at the Olive Garden are twice as likely to wedgie you than bikers at home.
But the greatest one of all, which must still pass through the Senate:
- Banning “localities from being able to prohibit hunting within a half-mile of a subdivision, but allow them to prohibit hunting within a subdivision.” The deer have been allowed to use human shields for too long. Sorry, subdivision-dwellers, but you’re gonna have to put up with some friendly fire. We’re at war, and those who would sacrifice a little safety for liberty deserve neither.
As part of our ongoing coverage of “Summer is here” — which will continue until mid-October — there’s an element we’ve forgotten: driving around.
For our high school and college readers, this is the time that you and your peers are bored and will drive around, pretending that going nowhere is “something.” For the adults, this means you’re going to a lot of stores with wedding and baby registries.
Without fail on any of these excursions, an argument will arise about the rules to calling Shotgun and Rock-Paper-Scissors (or Roshambo to non-South Park viewers). We’d normally use this as an excuse to write a How To, but someone has beaten us to it and done so throughly.
We suggest sending this link to that friend that calls Shotgun during the planning stages of your Warped Tour trip in August.
“The history of calling ‘Shotgun’ goes back to the days of covered wagons and the Wild West. On a trip across the plains, the driver of a wagon would hold the reins of his horse team and concentrate on driving. This left him and the occupants of his wagon susceptible to sneak attacks from bandits and thieves. To avoid this atrocious circumstance it became necessary for one person to sit next to the driver with a shotgun and fend off the enemy.”