Funny about Money

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. ―Edmund Burke

Walloped!

So, as you’ll recall, according to my Universal Theory of Phoenix Transportation, at any given time one in 10 people on the roads is a certifiable moron. Tonight I qualified as number 10!

Headed homeward with Ruby the Corgi, my back hurt, so I was in a hurry to reach the Funny Farm. At Feeder Street NS, some cars were headed in our direction. We could get across if we rushed. It was dark. But there was a speed bump between us and the oncoming vehicles, which, even if they were traveling faster than I thought, would slow them down enough for us to make the other side before they reached us.

So we’re flying across the street and we leap for the sidewalk and trip…kerWHACK!

Goddammit. I fell flat on my face.

MAN, did that hurt.

But amazingly, nothing seems to have broken, not even the now picturesquely scraped nose. I’m sure that by tomorrow morning I’ll look like I was in a boxing match. A lump has already raised up on my chin, plus another on a knee. And my glasses are hopelessly scratched: that’ll be a $300 fix. I met several nice neighbors…

And…here’s the weird thing: the kink in the back disappeared!

Sidewalk as chiropractor…

This may complicate life a bit. Tomorrow I have to drive from pillar to post: first to pick up the vacuum and then down to the credit union to argue about whether they can accept a wire transfer via their routing number, contrary to what their manager seems to have told me. Then back here to index another slab of a client’s book. Then of course I imagined I would clean out another closet…that idea probably no doubt will be going by the wayside. Tuesday (oh shit, there’s another gunshot…down at Main Drag South. Ahhh, the lovely sounds of the city… 😀 ) it’s off to Costco with my old croneys. Wednesday, meet with a new client halfway across the city. Thursday…don’t recall. Friday: SDXB. Saturday: SDXB thinks we’re driving to Castle Hot Springs. By then, with all that gallivanting, I won’t have had a chance of getting far in indexing project #1. And #2 will still be waiting.

{sigh} One thing you had to say about San Francisco along about 19-and-aught-59: they didn’t have damn cop helicopters roaring overhead every time some perp hiccupped.

Nor did the perps do a lot of hiccuping. Not everybody and his little brother was addicted to drugs. It was actually relatively safe: I used to ride the bus, transfer to the streetcar, and walk to school, every day, at the nubile age of 12 or 13. And I was allowed to roam all over the place with my best friend, two little tomboys fishing in Lake Merced and sneaking into the Olympic Club’s golf course and climbing onto the roofs of the local apartment houses. Today “helicopter parents” won’t let their kids out of their sight…for good reason, as we’ve seen here in the ’hood.

Think of that. From Utopia to Dystopia in just 60 years.

Author: funny

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4 Comments

  1. Oh, no! Please try to be careful. I took a hell of a fall crossing the street last year and I wasn’t even running. I’m not sure what happened, I just know that when I got up and looked back, there was a hole in the street near the curb. I wasn’t looking down like I usually do, and must have stepped in it. Thank God, I wasn’t going any faster! A couple of passersby helped me stand because I couldn’t get up by myself. Painful and embarrassing, but also didn’t break anything, just missed work that day.

    • Wow! Thank goodness you weren’t seriously hurt. Had it been moi, the mayor’s office would have heard about that pothole first thing in the morning.

  2. Take care of yourself, Funny. What would we do without your wondrous tales from Arizona?