About 25 years ago I got caught speeding on my way to work. (Five miles over the limit didn't seem like a big deal to me, but to the police officer that pulled me over, I was a hardened criminal.)
Read about it below.
One young man, who looked like he was recently released from prison, was about 30 seconds late. This made Mr. Comedy furious, and rather than continue the class 30 seconds behind schedule, he tore into the young man, saying, “Well now you’ve ruined it for everybody. I told you to be back on time, and you ignored my instruction. Now the whole class has to suffer because of you, and there won’t be any comedy tonight. I repeat, I have canceled the comedy — for everyone. I hope you’re happy.”Well, the young man was not happy and went on a cursing tirade to let Mr. Comedy know that he didn’t appreciate the yelling. Mr. Comedy was even stupider than anyone imagined, because he shouted back, “You can’t talk to me like that. Get out of my class. I’m keeping your tuition for the class, and you will not get credit for the class.”
The tardy student did not take this well, and he stood up and yelled at the top of his lungs, “You fat, stupid ‘bleeping bleep.’ I’m going home and get my ‘bleeping’ gun and come back and blow your ‘bleeping’ bald head off.” Next, he flipped over his desk and stormed out of the classroom. We’re all thinking, is this the comedy?
Mr. Comedy urgently called his boss and explained the situation to him. He asked his boss if he could skip the second half of the class and leave early. His boss said, “No, this is your problem, not mine,” so Mr. Comedy reluctantly continued.
Our teacher then said, “All those willing to form a human shield around me when I leave; please raise your hand.” There were no takers, probably because, at this point, no one liked Mr. Comedy, and no one wanted to get shot. He could have called the police, but he didn’t. Instead, he shouted even louder, “Can you please raise those hands higher?” There were still no takers; however, unintentionally, he actually was providing the comedy that he promised us.
The class continued, with Mr. Comedy talking faster than an auctioneer at a cattle auction. We finished a half-hour early, and we all stood on the balcony and watched as, without incident, Mr. Comedy sprinted to his car and sped away. As he was racing to his car, he looked like Charlie Chaplin in one of the silent films, swaying from side to side as he ran.
In the end, indeed it was an evening of comedy.
My Observation: The only thing worse than an idiot is two of them.
Comedy Traffic School — It’s No Joke
One morning, on my way to work, I encountered unexpected traffic and was running a little late for my early morning meeting. The city where I worked, had a reputation for overzealous traffic cops, who often hid in bushes or behind parked trucks, waiting to pounce on their next victim. The first time I noticed the hidden police officer was when he pulled up behind me and turned on his lights and siren.
Yeah, I was going a little over the speed limit, but not by that much. Officer McGreedy had a giant smile on his face, as he handed me a ticket for going five mph over the speed limit. It was not a friendly or pleasant smile, but a creepy one, reminding me of Chucky, the doll from the “Child’s Play” movies. This is my only traffic ticket in the last 40 years. Of course, I got a few during my sports car years — doesn’t everyone?
I had two choices: I could pay the fine and pay higher insurance rates, or I could attend traffic school and have the ticket erased from my motor vehicle record. I went to traffic school. I chose one close by, which was billed as a “comedy traffic school,” taught by a licensed comedian. I have no idea where a comedian goes to get licensed. This school sounded good to me because I do enjoy a good laugh.
The classroom was in a mini-mall above a liquor store. There were about 20 students in the class, and we spent the first hour going around the room, with each of us telling the class how we got our ticket. Our teacher, Mr. Comedy, then asked if any of us successfully talked a cop out of writing a ticket. Surprisingly, there were five, and not surprisingly, they were all women, and the forgiving cops were all male. One attractive fellow student talked her way out of a ticket by telling the officer she was late to her grandmother’s funeral. She produced tears on demand to seal the deal. She was in traffic school because, this cop also listened to her funeral story, complete with the tears on demand, and then commented on funeral attire, (shorts and flip-flops), as he handed her the citation.
An hour and a half into the class, we were still waiting for the comedy to begin. The instructor announced that it was time to take a ten-minute break. He emphasized, “The break is for ten minutes, and please don’t be late.” This was not a problem for 19 of the students since there was nothing to do nearby.