Some people are just too stoopid.
They are breathing my air. And I don’t like it. Not one bit. Dammit.
There’s really not much we can do about this epidemic of stoopididity. I mean we can’t just go around looking for the Terminally Stoopid and lock them up and throw away the key, can we? If we did that, there would be 60-something million fewer Democrat voters (hope and change!), but that would be wrong. And illegal. But mostly illegal. There is a solution to this dilemma, however. Ninety-nine per cent of the Terminally Stoopid are pro-choice, right? In that case, I choose to spay and/or neuter every damn last one of ’em! It will take a generation or so before they all keel over, but in the meantime they will be unable to reproduce, therefore virtually eliminating stoopididty.
I am willing to do this for the betterment of my Country and the future of my children and grand children.
That’s just the kind of guy I am. And you can thank me later.
Nine. One. One.
We’ve done a few stories about Dumbasses and the emergency call number 9-1-1. One guy we wrote about called 9-1-1 to order a beer delivery! Another shit for brains went one further and dialed up the emergency call center and threatened to kick the cops’ asses! Quick note: Mrs. Fearless Leader DVRed “American Idol” and is watching it as I type this. I may call 9-1-1 myself before I can finish this post! I hate that damn show!
Now back to your regularly scheduled Dumbassery…
Our story today is about a Hungry Dumbass. A really hungry Dumbass. This idjit got so hungry he did what any mentally deficient moron would do when they get a ad case of the munchies. He called 9-1-1 to order a cheeseburger!
Nine times! If at first you don’t succeed….
52 year old Gregory Jackson, Sr. of New Castle, Indiana is the Dumbass In Question.
From WISH-TV comes this transcript:
Dispatcher: Do you have an emergency sir, because you dialed 911.
Jackson: I dialed 911.
Dispatcher: Yeah you dialed 911. …
Dispatcher: OK, so why did you call 911 for, what do you need.
Dispatcher: Do you have an emergency?
Jackson: A cheeseburger.
Dispatcher: Have a good day.
Jackson then called back into the emergency phone line.
Dispatcher: 911, Your emergency.
Jackson: Yes, I just spoke with you. You hung up on me.
Dispatcher: Well I asked if you had an emergency. You said no, you needed a cheeseburger. So we don’t take cheeseburger orders.
And still, Jackson calls back demanding a cheeseburger from the dispatcher.
Dispatcher: You know if you give me some information maybe we can try and help you out.
And finally, the dispatcher was on the phone with Jackson when the authorities arrived on the scene.
Dispatcher: You hear them knocking?
The cops did not come bearing cheeseburgers.
And Gregory is in a shit load of trouble.
At least where he’s going he’ll get three squares a day, though I am not sure if cheeseburgers are on the menu.
Wooooohooooo! Another Dumbass on a Bulldozer story!
Just in case you missed the first Dumbass on a Bulldozer story, it was a humdinger! It’s the tale of a Dumbass driving a bulldozer while drunk!
Now that you have been regaled with that story, let’s move on to today’s Dumbass News.
|The Choice of Dumbasses Everywhere|
The Relationship Between Dumbasses & Bulldozers
Why is it that Dumbasses have forged such a bond with bulldozers? Is there something about earth-moving equipment that calls to Dumbasses in a paranormal kind of way? “Come to me! You belong with me. Let’s commit felonies together!”, the bulldozer plaintively calls.
Is that it? Why the attraction?
It’s because we are dealing with the shallow end of the gene pool here, i.e., Dumbasses! What the hell did you think it was, Dumbass? I ain’t Dr. Phil here, trying to dig deep into the psyche of Dumbasses. I know Dumbasses! I am one of them! Their Fearless Leader. Without the bulldozer fetish.
But, I digress.
Picking Up His Car
Donald Smith II of Bear, Delaware had taken his pick up truck to a auto repair shop in New Castle to have some shit done to it and had planned to pick it up when the work was completed. Problem is that Donald did not have the cash flow to pay the repairman for services rendered. Therefore, and rightly so, the mechanic held on the Don’s truck until the bill was paid.
Donald couldn’t wait that long.
So he somehow commandeered a front end loader and went straight to the repair shop to get his truck. Without permission. Late at night. On the bulldozer.
Donald then hoisted his truck up in the air with the bucket of the front end loader! It may be just me, but the sight of a pick up truck in the bucket of a front end loader is not a normal thing. Even in Bear, Delaware.
Anyway, the shop owner saw all this going on and he called the cops, whom Donald Smith II led on a half-hour low speed chase down a highway then through a neighborhood and a cornfield. The Fuzz apprehended Donald when he drove the bulldozer, truck and all, into a retaining pond.
Donald was arrested and charged with all kinds of good stuff that should lead to at least a short stay in a Delaware Prison.
All of this unnecessary trouble when simply paying the repair bill or even working out a payment arrangement with the shop owner would have been the easiest way to take care of bidness.
But, the hypnotic call of the bulldozer was too much for Donald Smith II.