Disclaimer? I hardly Know 'er

The latest edition of Consumer Reports has a small collection of really, really absurd warnings/disclaimers in their “Selling It” section. Here’s a sampling of the insanity:

SpongeBobSquarePants Iron-on Do not iron while wearing shirt.

Shaver, hair dryer, curling iron Never use while sleeping.

Cheese pizza Product becomes hot when cooked.

Cutting board Opening with sharp object may damage the product.

Hamburger press Do not operate when you are tired.

Lamp Never use this lamp around living children.

Car sunshade Vehicle should not be driven with sunshade in the window.

Travel pillow Warning: do not use for sleeping. For decorative purposes only.

These, and all those other warnings and disclaimers are a sad testament to our society.

++++++++++

Memory Du Jour:
Arizona, 1970-something

Once upon a time, my late best friend Mike and I were doing one of the many things we did best – Driving around aimlessly enjoying “nature” (i.e. herb). This particular day we thought it’d be a great idea to stop by the local 7-11 store to pick up a pint of Bacardi 151 and a couple of large cola Slurpees. We pulled into the store and made our purchase. I’m pretty sure we probably played a couple of games of Asteroids or Berzerk

Anyway...once back in the car, I emptied about two inches of Slurpee from my cup, replacing it with Bacardi. When I was done, I put the lid back on my cup, handed the bottle to Mike, and started the car. I started backing out of the parking spot just after Mike had poured out his two inches of Slurpee.

I pulled to the parking lot exit and waited for traffic to clear. Mike poured the 151 into the Slurpee cup – Right to the brim. After a couple of minutes, traffic was clear and I could pull out.

Before Mike had a chance to put the lid back on the cup, I punched the accelerator and bolted out of the parking lot into the southbound lane of 51st Avenue. At that very instant, the Bacardi 151 that had been pooled, unmixed, at the top of Mikes cup emptied right onto his crotch.

He uttered a few expletives directed at me. I laughed like a best friend is supposed to, and continued driving down the road. Mike’s look of incredulity turned shortly to one of discomfort, followed by outright pain. He cussed, bitched, called me names, and cussed some more as the 151 proof (75.5% alcohol) Rum did bad things to his “package.”

He tossed the Slurpee cup out the window. Then, he pulled his pants/underwear down and fanned his crotch with his hands in a vain attempt to stop the excruciating pain that had befallen his bidness. Laugh? I thought I’d fucking die!!!

But wait...There's more. Next thing you know, he’s squirming and contorting his body in such a way that his pelvis was square in the middle of the open passenger window, and his frank and motherfucking beans were hanging out the window in the 50+ mph breeze.

I was in tears. Try to picture a 1973 Opel GT speeding down the road with a hysterical driver, and a bitching/moaning passenger hanging his wet manbusiness out the window.

I wonder now how many people witnessed that. How many psyches were scarred beyond repair? How many serial killers were borne of that sight? Frightening. I’m so sorry now. So very, very sorry – NOT!

Mike, you fucker, it’s still hilarious after all these years!

Quote of the Day:
“I don't think I'm alone when I say I'd like to see more and more planets fall under the ruthless domination of our solar system.” –Jack Handy

Graphic Du Jour:
States I've lived in or have visited. Give it a try here.