Whether it’s dumb luck, bad luck, or lucking out to see something new, the Irish’s only export besides alcoholics has been in evidence in various forms lately:
Triple Respite – Idiocy truly knew no bounds a few weeks ago in the headquarters of every Chinese restaurant in America, also referred to as China, when three UCLA basketball bozos evidently didn’t realize they weren’t in Kansas anymore, and decided to snatch some designer shades using the classic American “five-finger discount.” Well we all know from one of Buddha’s most famous proverbs is, “We Chinese, we very sneaky. We put Clorox on our dinky.” This bizarre boast would indicate that the chinks pride themselves on treachery. And cleanliness. Regardless, shoplifters are rarely successful in such a secretive society. Not to mention a trio of nine-foot black guys tended to stick out just a tad in such a yellow sea of Chinese midgets, and about five seconds later the dunces were arrested for shoplifting and hauled away in a police rickshaw. I’ve got to say, these three might be the dumbest fucks on the planet. Didn’t these clepto assholes see what just happened to fellow college fuckface “Grand Theft” Otto Warmbier?” That kid went to Korea acting like a clown and came home a carrot. Chinks aren’t exactly known for their sense of humor when it comes to criminal prosecution. And new posterboy for “dumb luck” LiAngelo Ball’s bigmouth dad, LaVar, is especially lucky. Had he lost one of his three sons, he would only have two Balls left. And that would be a tragedy.
God of Gore – The polls to decide the annual award for the “Luckiest Man of the Year” can officially close now, after the news that 52 year-old Roy “Why Me?” McClellan has been killed. I mean holy shit the luck on this guy. He was one of the lottery winners who survived the horrific Las Vegas massacre a few months ago, and while for most people that might be enough brushes with death for their taste—but not for ol’ Roy boy. Because here he was a short time later hitchhiking on the highway—reportedly to a find the nearest bridge to jump off—when he was plowed into by a passing vehicle and reduced to road pizza. I mean jesus, this nigga’s like “Final Destination.” Death was on his ass. But it does beg the question that was wailed by one of his mourners, something along the lines of, “Why did god let him survive the shooting just to take him a month later?” The answer is simple. God clearly hates him.
Truck Be A Statey Tonight – I just had to literally re-read one of my own masterpieces about statey SUVs entitled “Car Alarm”—which is the equivalent of Scorsese re-watching “Raging Bull”—in order to adequately register my disgust over the new champion of police abuse of funds: a fuckin pick-up truck statey. That’s right. They finally did it. The stupidest cop vehicle this side of a police ice cream truck has been unleashed on the unsuspecting public for absolutely no reason. Luckily, I just happened to drive past the first one I’ve ever seen the other night and could barely resist the urge to T-Bone it. I’d like to hear the pig patrol explain what the fuck they even need that retarded shit for. Are they hauling lumber to crime scenes? Or suspects bound by the honor system? You can’t even fit a suspect into the fuckin cab of the stupid thing while an officer’s driving. And pick-up trucks sure as shit aren’t an improvement on speed or maneuverability over a regular fuckin state patrol car. Who the fuck are you running down in that thing? This ain’t the Dukes of Hazard. I thought statey SUVs were absurdly unnecessary, but the ludicrousness of a statey pick-up truck almost defies belief. All they’re missing is a big pair of police-issue truck nuts. Talk about blue balls.