Tuesday, April 3, 2012


In some neighborhoods, distraught people have to suffer speeders, barking dogs, Jehovah’s Witnesses, or noisy neighbors. I only wish those were my problems!

A few years ago, I was watching a movie late one night when I heard some yakkin’ out in the street. So I went to the living room window and looked out. There was the teenage daughter who lived across the street from us, leaning up against her boyfriend’s car. They were smooching, or . . . whatever. So I went back to my movie.

About 15 minutes later it sounds like an airplane is landing on my front lawn. I rush to get my keys so I can get out the security door and see what’s going on, but by the time I can get out of my house and into the front yard . . .  “There’s nuttin’ left to see here, folks; move along.”

But the next day I discover tire tracks across my front lawn. Tracing them it was easy to figure out what had happened. Idiot boyfriend of idiot teenage girl had been too lazy to make a three-point turn in order to head his car in the opposite direction down the street, so he just swung a 
U-turn right across my lawn.

So Brother Nappy and I go across to the teenage girl’s house and speak with her and her mother. Without actually accusing anyone of anything, Nappy and I ask if they heard the commotion last night. We describe to them what “some driver” did to our lawn, and we let our neighbors know that we’re going to be looking for the suspect. And if they ever have any information they think we’d be interested in, we invite them to share it with us.

Nappy and I make it clear that 1) it had better NEVER happen again, and 2) we have contacts to the police department (true), and 3) we probably wouldn’t even bother going to the police, because if it happens again, we will leave no stone unturned in locating the culprit and dealing with him in our own way.

Needless to say, the message got delivered and it never happened again.

But what is it about our front lawn that seems to make it a magnet for automobiles?

Below are some pictures of my house. Notice in the first photo the large shrub that protrudes into the lawn area. Next is a photo taken the other day, showing that where the shrub once grew, we now have a couple of potted plants.

At about 2 AM (“Last call for alcohol!”) on March 29th, our next-door neighbor was awakened by the screeching of tires on our street. The screeching went on for awhile, but having recently suffered a heart attack, he was too tired to get up and check on it. Nappy apparently slept through it, and I was at work suffering through a “graveyard” shift.

As he normally does, Nappy got up at 3 AM and at about 
4 AM he opened the front door to leave for the gym. (Nappy works out like a professional athlete, and he’s got the huge biceps and muscled torso to prove it.)

But upon opening the front door, Nappy sees this:
Someone’s car, with a door ajar and the interior light on, was parked on our front porch, its headlights only inches from the front door and the wall that separates our living room from the outside world!
Having no idea what was going on, or if there were criminals in the area, Nappy grabs his handgun and goes out the back door to circle around to the front yard. He looks in and under the car but finds nobody and no body.
So he calls the authorities (a.k.a. “the useless police department”) to report a car on our porch. Just then he hears some people speaking Spanish right down the street, in the dark.
A man then comes running up all excited, stating in broken English that the car belongs to him and that he had reported it stolen two hours ago. The man then retrieves the keys to the car from where they’re lying on the floorboard. (Yes, you read that right.)
Now the police arrive (Dunken Donuts having closed for the night). They confirm that the car had indeed been reported stolen at about 2 AM. And because the car’s “owner” does not appear to be impaired, the cops do what they usually do: paperwork and nothing else. No investigation, no arrest, nuttin’!
Never mind that the keys were in the car (the car was stolen at 2 AM because it was sitting in front of the owner’s house with the keys in it?) and never mind that the whole scenario begs the immediate question: “If you live a couple blocks away, how did you know where to locate your car, in the dark, a couple hours after discovering it missing from your own driveway? A car stolen in Phoenix could be in Mexico in two hours!”

It’s obvious what happened: Someone who lives with this man (a son, a brother, a cousin?) was hot-rodding around the neighborhood while intoxicated. He lost complete control of his car in front of our house and it slid sideways across our front lawn (four tire marks in the grass prove this point), it then hit the large shrub, which turned the car forward and slowed it down a bit.

And then – get this! – the car skidded right in between the brick arches that form the front of our house and – MIRACULOUSLY! – came to a stop on our front porch, only a couple inches from the front door and wall. The car was wedged into that spot and the “owner” had a hell of a time backing it out while the police officers stood by and watched.

A couple days later, when my next-door neighbor saw the pictures Nappy had taken that morning, he immediately said the very same thing that I had said to Nappy on the day of the incredible episode:

“It’s as if an angel of God guided that car between the pillars of the archway and then held out his hand in front of the door and the wall and said, ‘This far and no further’.

What are the odds that a car sliding sideways will hit a shrub, straighten itself out so that it can slide front-forward into an archway and come to a stop only a few inches before plowing right through a wall and into a living room? Do you think a drunken man could duplicate that feat in four million attempts?

[Four tire skid marks across our front lawn.]
[Skid marks across our porch, a few feet from the front door.]
[Dark green paint from the side of the car can be seen on the bricks that form the archway over our front porch.]
[Front door valet service. "You can't beat that!"]
[The messy aftermath. The car not only took out a large shrub, but it also smashed in to pieces a large rock planter we had on the porch. Thankfully, "Kelly's Rock" - something with great sentimental value to me - which was in the planter, was (again, "miraculously") not damaged and Nappy thought to find and save it.]
[It's an "Airheadzona" cultural thang; you wouldn't understand!]
The car’s “owner” was obviously covering-up for someone in his family. (How convenient that he thought to report the car stolen after learning that it was wedged into a very tight space a couple blocks away. To me, that seems like “experience” thinking.)

But when the “owner” heard Nappy mention the word “insurance”, he went into a panic, and vowed to return later to clean up the considerable mess on our porch and to bring us potted plants to replace the shrub that had been completely sheared off level with the ground.

Because the man followed through on his promises, Nappy and I did not press the issue further. Besides, it was clear that the police department had no intention of starting a drunken driving inquiry.

Now had this been Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s jurisdiction instead of Phoenix P.D., I’ll bet some questions would have been asked, such as:

“Why were the keys in this supposedly stolen car? How did you know where to find your stolen car two hours later? Who was driving this car? Where is he now? And is he in this country legally?”

Just another day in “Airheadzona”.

[Our next-door neighbor's "unique" tree-trimming style. It's the street's biggest eyesore. Only in Airheadzona . . . and maybe in Arkansas.]

~ Stephen T. McCarthy

YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.


  1. I think that your next landscaping project should be adding a series of 3' round granite rocks across the front of your yard. Obviously, this issue will come up again unless you manage to extricate yourself from Airheadzona and move to somewhere nicer, like Tobago.

    We used to live in a house on a curve that people drove fast around, so we bought three HUGE planters About three feet tall and three feet wide, and filled them with dirt and trees. We felt safer, knowing that they would protect us while we slept in beds just 15 feet away from the road.

    Well, you make a valid point there, my friend.

    But on the other hand, it seems to me the angel watching over our house is doing quite a nice job as it is and probably doesn't really need an assist.

    Plus, the money I save by not buying huge barricade planters I can apply toward something else, Like the $800. dollar timing belt change that it seems my truck is overdue for. OUCH!

    Maybe it's time I bought a lottery ticket and sacrificed lambs and oxen to it.

    ~ D-FensDogg
    'Loyal American Underground'

  3. Obviously the driver was confused when he saw the arches and went for the Happy Meal and #1 combo.

    Reminds me of last February during a snowstorm when a kid in his Bronco side-swiped a tree, panicked when his airbag went off in his face and gassed it, jumped a snowbank and crashed into the corner of my house. Luckily the place is built like a Sherman tank; constructed in 1940 which would be about right.

    Arpaio is a real character. We need more like him. The sheriff over here must have read the same 'playbook' when it comes to running the local prison. Unfortunately, he's always in someones crosshairs for violating the rights of prisoners (they have rights?) Once in a while he gets in over his head like when he was making the prisoners wash the guards' uniforms, or when he appeared in a rap video that was shot in the jailhouse. Other than that, the prisoners don't like him which is a good thing.

    Would AZ be a better place to live if it could swap positions with Nevada or Utah and distance itself a little from the Mexican border?

  4. Your angel is indeed protecting your house well, but the lawn... not so much. Your lawn must be devil grass.

  5. SigToo
    >>...Obviously the driver was confused when he saw the arches and went for the Happy Meal and #1 combo.

    Ha!-Ha! Yeah, that might be it! What he got instead was the Happy Meal and #457-F combo. (If memory serves me after all these years, that was the code for driving while intoxicated.)

    Sounds like you have a car-magnet house too, eh? Lucky us!

    I’ll tell ya the truth, Brother: I have never liked Arpaio and have never once voted for him. In fact, I have rather enthusiastically voted against him a couple times. I think he’s a real media hound and I know of some serious allegations against him and his gang (jailhouse deaths, unethical/illegal activities against whistleblowers, etc.).

    However, I have to say that he’s gained some respect from me recently because of his persistent efforts to address this state’s out-of-control illegal alien problem – in defiance of the corrupt “New World Order” Feds.

    Also, of course, I love the noise he’s making about Obama’s forged birth certificate and selective service form. I recognize that as being mostly “political payback”, but I applaud it anyway. (At least someone somewhere in some form of authority is willing to stick his neck out there in regards to what is a blatant criminal act and massive cover-up.)

    The next time he comes up for election, despite the fact that I still don’t like him, I’m pretty sure I will be voting for Joe Arpaio. (I can’t hardly even believe I just wrote those words.)

    >>...Would AZ be a better place to live if it could swap positions with Nevada or Utah and distance itself a little from the Mexican border?

    Yeah, I believe that would be a slight improvement. I think the further you are from the border the better. But, I also think this illegal alien problem is massive, far worse than the worst estimates.

    I don’t know if you recall me writing about my trip to Senator McCarthy’s hometown and gravesite a couple years ago. But while on that trip I saw plenty of what I strongly suspected to be illegal immigrants in tiny Appleton, Wisconsin (when motel housekeepers and restaurant busboys, etc., can’t speak English, it’s usually a pretty good beginning clue). In this country, you can’t get too much further from the Mexican border than tiny, White-as-a-snowflake, Appleton, Wisconsin.

    While I was there, I even saw one Wisconsin driver with a bumper sticker on his car praising Arizona’s SB-1070 legislation. Another clue that even in Appleton, they perceive a problem with illegal immigration.

    Just a hunch, but I’ll bet if you took the LARGEST number of suspected illegal immigrants in the USA that’s been floated in the media by any anti-illegal immigration group, and doubled it, that’s probably more likely closer to the truth.

    By the way, in a couple hours I expect to be posting that 9/11 stock market blog bit I spoke of. It’s been completed for days, sitting in a Word file, but I figured I’d let this ‘Drunken Donuts’ one have the spotlight for a day or two. Time’s up!

    "Devil grass"? I'm not sure, but I think Phoenix summers are too hot for devil anything.

    That reminds me of a joke I made up years ago:

    Q: How does a Phoenix man know he's died and gone to hell?

    A: A demon approaches him and says, "Hand over the sunglasses, bub!"

    ~ D-FensDogg
    ‘Loyal American Underground’


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