The Bastard gets his motorcycle back... then goes to jail

So after sitting in the shop for almost 2 months, The Bastard finally got his bike back.  Of course, the first thing he did was go for a ride.  And when he goes for a ride, he usually ends up somewhere in Bumblefuck.

::snicker:: That sign says "Blowing Rock"

Now, I always worry about him getting a speeding ticket or get into an accident, but I never expected him to get arrested.

Apparently he was fueling up at a gas station where a Bumblefuck town cop was sitting out front.  Said cop decided to run The Bastard's plates.  Why?  No idea.  Apparently his plate came up with no valid license attached to it, probably because he thought he still had another month on it, but it had actually expired 2 weeks prior.  Oblivious to the activity in the police car he pulled out of the gas station, immediately after which the cop pulled out behind him and flipped on the lights.  The cop checked his license and registration, then almost immediately put him in handcuffs.  Instead of having the bike towed or asking if someone could pick it up, the cop left it on the side of the road!

He apparently tried to call me, but it was the one time I didn't have my phone on me (it had died and was charging).  When he got home, he was pissed off and flailing a bit.  I'd left him in jail!  To hear him tell it, you'd think he'd spent the day in a supermax facility with hardened criminals.

Don't drop the soap...

Here's what really happened.

At the station, he sat there for about a half hour before another cop apologized and said that with his clean record and the fact that he'd never been pulled over for this offense before, he shouldn't have been brought in.  They gave him a ticket for the expired license and told him he could GTFO.  That's when he called me, I didn't answer, and then he called one of his riding buddies.  So really, his afternoon looked more like this:

Seriously.  He looks badass in that jacket.

It actually turned out that it was a good thing that I didn't go get him - his buddy was able to ride the bike home, which I wouldn't have been able to do.  Eventually he calmed down and let me know what really happened.  So don't worry, he's not too traumatized from his ordeal!  (I know you were all worried)

An Apartment Story (or Why The Bastard And I Have Horrible Luck With Neighbors)

This will probably be the longest post I will ever write on this blog. Maybe I should write more so all this won't be pent up to the point were it comes shooting out in the form of keyboard diarrhea.

The Bastard and I have lived in quite a few humble abodes. When we first moved in together, we were renting a shitty little apartment that had a leaky ceiling in the bathroom because our upstairs neighbor didn't believe in shower curtains. Our neighbors across the hall had already filed bankruptcy before they'd reached the legal drinking age and the guy next to them was the worst pot dealer that ever lived. At least, he claimed to deal, but I think he just smoked his entire inventory at wholesale prices.

After that, we both moved in with our respective parents for time, only his parents were 1000 miles away in another state. I joined him out there about a year later and we rented this delightfully petite townhouse in Houston. At least, we thought it was delightfully petite at first. We soon found out that it was just fucking small and difficult to furnish. It also had a ghost that would fall down the stairs around 11:30 every night, turn off our TV randomly after that time, and scare the hell out of the cats. One time the bastard said, "Hmmm, maybe he's falling down the stairs because he can't see!" We shrugged and decided it wasn't the dumbest theory either of us had come up with. So, the Bastard turned on a lamp, whose light bulb promptly blew. We spent the night at IHOP. Shortly thereafter, I ended up talking to empty stairs every day when I got home from work just to get him to shut the hell up. If I forgot, he'd come back with a fucking vengeance that night.

Our next apartment was across the street in a better-managed complex. At least, it was until after the first time we renewed our lease. We were on the top floor of a 2-story building, so we no longer worried about neighbors above us. However, the apartment below us had to have been cursed. Every person who moved in there by themselves either moved in or got evicted within 3 months. Every couple that moved in there would scream at each other like banshees and eventually be evicted for causing the cops to come out there too many times. We also had a neighbor that came to one of our parties one time, then wouldn't leave us alone for weeks after that. I understand the guy was lonely, but knocking on our door 10 times a day is a little excessive. He also had an on-again-off-again marriage with a woman half his size that would beat the shit out of him. Guys, as much as violence against women disgusts me, if a woman is actively trying to claw your face off, as in drawing blood to the point where you may need stitches, it's ok to restrain her. Really. It is.

After this, we stayed with the Bastard's parents for awhile, who had since moved back to our home state. While this wasn't the ideal living situation, the Bastard's parents are awesome. I totally lucked out in the in-law department. But two people and two cats can only live in a 12' x 12' for so long without going batty, so as soon as we were out of the massive pile of debt we'd buried ourselves under, we got the apartment we're living in now.

At first, it seemed great. Then, after a couple weeks, we realized that our neighbors across the hall were getting a LOT of visitors. At night. And they would only stay for a few minutes. They also mostly looked like one of these variations:


Can you guess what they were selling? At least they weren't cooking it - the weather seals around the doors and windows of this building aren't good enough to keep out that kind of smell.

Apparently we weren't the only ones who caught on to their stupidity. They lasted for about 3 months until they got arrested, their car was impounded, and they were kicked out of their apartment. We got to watch the maintenance guys dump all their stuff in the parking lot. They had some great over-stuffed leather furniture. Unfortunately, according the maintenance guys, it all smelled like a combination of cigarettes, pot, and meth so it all went to the dump.

The two apartments below us were empty when we first got there. Shortly before Dumb and Dumber across the hall were evicted, some 20-something guys moved in below us. They looked like frat boys. They were nice guys and all, but slaughtering Metallica on your Rock Band game at 11:30 on a Tuesday night is so not cool. I had to have the Bastard handle that one since I'm not exactly reasonable to deal with when woken up by such defamation shortly after drifting off.

They left less than a year later. Their replacement, a middle-aged guy, and the new tenants in the apartment below them got along a little too well. They would stand outside the bottom-floor apartment with some other neighbors letting small children run wild and laughing their asses off at each other at all times of night. Again, I let the Bastard deal with them as we really don't have the money to bail my ass out of jail, let alone multiple times.

Both of them have moved out recently. Hopefully, these new tenants (who were hanging pictures this morning... loudly...) will be better. But I'm not getting my hopes up. The Bastard's schooling that he starts this fall better pay off because I really need a house!

Apparently, stupidity leads to people bursting into flames...

In our second people-catching-fire scenario of the week, we can definitely spot the problem person. See that guy over to the left? Yeah. That guy right there. Please try to contain yourselves, as I know this is a shocking revelation.

This is Daniel Wood, 31, of Ohio. Mr. Wood has a problem with making good decisions. In this particular instance, he made three very bad decision. The first one was huffing flammable vapors (some reports say it was gasoline, others say it was aerosol from a can of compressed air). The second was yelling threats at K-Mart patrons while darting into traffic. And thirdly, when confronted by police officers, he resisted arrest and assaulted them.

The officers, after Mr. Wood kicked and tried to bite them, realized that he wasn't going down without a fight. So they tased him. Unfortunately, whatever he'd been huffing (see bad decision #1) interacted quite badly with the electricity from the taser and his shirt ignited. The cops were on the ball, though; they turned off the taser and put him out right away, so he actually fared much better than Mr. Feltham from Wednesday's post.

By the way, the crazy doesn't stop with Mr. Wood. If the comments on CBS's coverage of this story are to be believed (and they shouldn't be), one would think that cops are going around setting suspects on fire with tasers all the damn time for their own amusement. Of course, it doesn't help that CBS also left everything leading up to the altercation completely out of their article. Thanks, CBS, for your diligent reporting!

He says, she says: Greek style

Malia, on the island of Crete, has apparently become quite the tourist hotspot for Brits on holiday. Unfortunately for one Brit, it got a little too hot. According to Marina Fanouraki, a 26-year-old Greek student, a very drunk Brit tourist whipped out his junk and tried to grope her, so she dumped her Sambuka on him. Understandable, right? Well, she claims that after this happened he tried to light a cigarette and, as most of us are well aware, alcohol and fire don't play well together.

On the other hand, Stuart Feltham, the 20-year-old tourist in question, claims he never even spoke to the girl. In fact, the friend that was with him claims that all Stuart did was bump into her, causing her to go nutzoid and set him ablaze with her lighter.

Either way you look at this, someone went crazy that night. But which one? Unfortunately for those of us following the story, it looks like the assault case against Miss Fanouraki will be postponed until May while he recuperates, his lawyer finds witnesses, and she decides whether or not to sue for sexual harassment. Never fear, faithful crazy readers, we shall be keeping up with this story so that you can be well informed on just which one of these two is actually crazy!

America's litigious nature personified...

Meet Jonathan Lee Riches© (seriously, he puts the copyright symbol after his name). Mr. Riches is currently in federal prison after pleading guilty to wire fraud charges. Mr. Riches is also either incredibly bored or completely nuts, as he has filed hundreds (some think even thousands) of lawsuits against various people, corporate entities, laws, and even phone numbers. Some of his defendants include politicians (i.e. George W. Bush, Barack Obama, and Hillary Clinton), actors (i.e. Reese Witherspoon, Ben Affleck, and Tom Cruise), music artists (i.e. Timbaland, Beyonce Knowles, and Paul McCartney), governments no longer in existence (i.e. Adolf Hitler's National Socialist Party and Ming Dynasty), and phone numbers (202-456-1414 and 843-387-9400 - please note that the second phone number is listed as a contact for Mr. Riches on the lawsuit against the first phone number).

When the Guinness Book of World Records wanted to name him as the World's Most Litigious Person, he sued them, too.

All of these lawsuits are handwritten and, as far as we have found, have either been dismissed by a judge or tossed altogether because he didn't pay the proper filing fees. One judge is apparently so fed up with his lawsuits that in his dismissal, he stated, "Plaintiff's complaint is hereby DISMISSED without prejudice. IT IS FURTHER ORDERED that Plaintiff is henceforth PERMANENTLY ENJOINED from filing any further complaints in this Court except as set forth in this Order. Plaintiff is henceforth PERMANENTLY ENJOINED from filing or attempting to file any new lawsuit in this Court without first obtaining leave of the Court to do so." He has not since filed a lawsuit in the Georgia Northern District Court. He has, however, filed four more lawsuits in other courts.

And just to get it out of the way, Don't Poke the Crazy has no comment on any future lawsuit against them by Jonathan Lee Riches© for being included on this blog.

The Tale of a Horse's Ass

I think you've gotta be a little crazy to think that having sex with a horse is a good idea. You've gotta be even crazier to sneak onto someone's ranch, rearrange the horse's stall, and have sex - on multiple occasions - with someone else's horse. But if you do all of the above, get caught, put on the sex offender list, sentenced to probation, and then go back to the same ranch to have sex with the same horse two years later, you're off-the-deep-end crazy!


Besides, would you really wanna mess with this woman? (Photo from AP)

Rodell Vereen was undeterred by any such logic or reasoning when he broke into Barbara Kenley's stable and violated her horse, Sugar, even after he'd already been apprehended for the same offense, with the same horse. Ms. Kenley, naturally suspecting the Mr. Vereen (even though the authorities didn't think he'd be that stupid), set up surveillance cameras, capturing the assault on poor Sugar, and then held the guy at gunpoint until the police arrived.

Ms. Kenley, you get approximately eleventy billion awesome points (that includes bonus points for showing admirable restraint by not actually shooting the guy).

And all Mr. Vereen gets is jail time, where, presumably, he'll learn to empathize with Sugar.