Virtual Confetti

I spend a lot of time on freeways.  As such, that means I spend a lot of time parked on asphalt behind other people who are parked on freeways.

“How’s my driving?”

I see these bumper stickers all the time, but I question their effectiveness.  Actually, I question their purpose.  “How’s my driving? Call 1-800-WE’LL-LAFF-AT-U.”  According to the legend, responsible companies with fleet vehicles register themselves with third-party organizations that report employee driving habits to ensure that they are driving safely and courteously.  In theory, a rogue employee who drives his 18-wheeler recklessly through town would get a call from his boss.  “Brutus, I know you’re attending your anger management classes regularly, but someone reported to FleetFellows that you were driving your cement truck at over 200 miles an hour through an orphanage.  That’s just not allowed.  You know, policy and all.  Sorry, but you’re fired.”  And the world instantly becomes a better place.  The goal is to threaten employees to drive safely, otherwise “big brother” will hunt them down.

But seriously, does anyone call and say, “I wanted to let you know that this driver is not only safe, but courteous. And her smiling white teeth are a friendly reminder to improve my oral hygiene?”  Probably not.  They’re just toll-free gripe lines.  And if you think about it, griping to a third-party company calms you down and diffuses the situation so that you don’t contact some kind of transportation authority and file a complaint.  Clever marketing.

I did see another rather clever use of the program.  A truck had the nominal “How’s my driving?” bumper sticker on the back.  Passing it, I noticed that the same number was listed as the company’s number on the side of the truck!

*ring ring*

Me:  I just wanted to let you know your driver is a real jerk!!

Them: Oh, I’m so sorry.  But since you called, have you considered the value of having your old rusty pipes replaced by shiny new copper ones?

Clever marketing, revisited.

I’ve decided that there’s an association between creepy guys and limps. I’m not quite prepared to say that a majority of creepy guys do limp, and likewise I can’t say that guys who limp are usually creepy.  However, if you see a creepy guy, and he happens to limp, there’s something about that combination that tells you, “Yeah, I can understand that.”  In a sense, it’s almost comforting.  And that’s why creepy limping guys are more dangerous than you thought.  However, the danger can be mitigated if we all learn to avoid being victims.

The best defense against a creepy limping guy — let’s call him “Crimpy” for short — is the limp itself.  It is his Achilles Heel.  Crimpy is much easier to outrun than, let’s say, a hunchback or guy with an eye patch. (And rarely do you see a hunchback with an eye patch, as his stooped nature allows him to avoid most eye injuries.  You’re more likely to see a hunchback with a sunburn on his head, as they are most certainly bald.)  I digress.

Should Crimpy unexpectedly catch up to you, there are still some strategies you can use to protect yourself.  As with a falling-behind limping creepy guy, running is still a good option, even with Crimpy at your heels.  However, if Crimpy has indeed caught up to you, it’s subtly implied that you are unable to run away at a sufficient pace so as to avoid him.  You must therefore take advantage of a different defense:  balance.

Assuming Crimpy has had ample time to adjust to his limp, he will favor his lame appendage and instead use his sturdy leg to maintain balance.  A swift kick from behind this leg will knock him off his feet, allowing you to scurry away at even a snail’s pace, if need be.  Should you be trapped to where you cannot move at all, such as the situation where cement has been allowed sufficient time to cure around your ankles, the “knock down” approach may not be as effective as desired. Even with difficulty, Crimpy is bound to stagger back into a upright position at some point.  You can continue to knock Crimpy down using the same behind-the-leg kick, but he is bound to catch on to your tactic by the sixth or seventh time.  (It should also be mentioned that it is a futile endeavor to try to switch legs on him; since the lame leg tends to wobble and flail anyway, kicking the defective limb will only exacerbate this behavior.  Amusing, perhaps, but ineffective.)  If after several attempts you have not managed to attract the attention of a sympathetic passerby, especially one with a jackhammer, you can safely say that at this point, the creepy guy with the limp is the least of your worries.  Scream, flail, dodge, or duck.

Please keep in mind that not every limper is a creeper, and vice versa.   To pass judgment this way is rather, well, lame.