Some of us, without plausible explanation or particular enterprise, are just born lucky!  Look at Lauren and Eric, from Broken Hallelujah: notes from a marriage, who were given the ultimate reprieve of a pot-smoking potty-mouthed prosecutor slated to handle their about-to-be-aired-in-public-court marital woes; I mean, can you say SCORE on that one…So, today, when I was stopped for (apparently) “speeding, ” I felt the gods, in the name of luck, good fortune, and a fortuitous knowledge of the inescapable link between Lauren and me would, similarly, divinely intervene:

Officer No Name  (at this point) waving his hefty (read: oddly, ummm, fat for one who is supposed to serve and protect) arms, so I will pull my Suburban onto the gravelly side of the road and get in line with the other three potential perpetrators.  Forgive me for being an optimist, but at first I thought I had won me a toaster…

“Hi, Ma’am, my name is Officer B****t…”

“Officer what???  I didn’t catch that.  Officer Borat, like before The Dictator?  In the movie?  OMG–are you Sasha Baron Cohen???”

“No, Ma’am, my name is Officer Boass, and…”

“Your name is Bigass?…Now that is just cruel…I mean you are what one would call on the upper end of the normal weight continuum, but isn’t it only in literature–like in the case of Atticus Finch in Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird (and you, sir, are certainly no Atticus Finch–no offense)–when one’s name actually reflects a character trait, foible, or flaw…”

“Ma’am, it doesn’t matter what my name is, the reason here…”

“Of COURSE, it MATTERS, what your name is, Dear–I am so sorry, if you thought I was suggesting otherwise…now, what is its origin–Polish? Italian? Jewish?  Is it Jewish?  I bet it is..see, boys (speaking now to children sitting quietly, rather patiently, a bit amusedly, perhaps, in the back of the Suburban), this defender of freedom, this–dare I say it–this Mensch, has offered his undivided attention to us.  Go ahead, Officer Bigass (now, boys, stop giggling), and let us know how we can be of service to YOU?”

“Ma’am, I registered your speed here (holds up electronic toy that looks not unlike something in my nine-year-old’s Spy Gear collection) as going 49 mph in this here 35 mph speed zone.  Now that is, ummm….”

Boys, in unison, somewhat impatiently, from the back of the Suburban:  “14 miles too fast!”

“Ma’am, that’s right.  Thank you, boys. Now I will need to see your license and registration.”

“Are you sure you are Jewish?  I mean, no offense, but you seem, I don’t know. a bit, how shall I put it, unkosher. I mean far be it for me to assume, or accuse even, but–Officer Bigass–I can’t help but feel that this is some sort of a set-up…tell me the truth, was I targeted because I am not wearing underwear…because I am pretty sure that that’s illegal (not the not wearing underwear part, but the targeting part).”

“Ma’am, this is all about speeding…just trying to keep the pedestrians safe…”

“But this is a four lane road with no sidewalks; I think you are the only pedestrian within five miles of here!  Do you think you got picked for this assignment because the other officers felt that your, ummmm, girth would perhaps keep you from helping them out if, say, a criminal were running (walking even, I mean no offense, but you really are, ummmm, big) and needed to be chased?  Come on, you can tell me…I mean I shared with you that I am not wearing underwear.”

“Ma’am, license and registration, please.”

“Ok, but seeing as how much you are perspiring in this heat, not to mention how absolutely uncomfortable you seem in that uniform, is it fair to say that if you don’t return from your vehicle–the one conveniently hidden behind the overgrown brush and dense foliage, in say, ten minutes or so, I should just assume the heat was too much for you and be on my way?”

Well, some of us, it seems, were born humorless and unhappy…

And so here is the ticket that Officer Feckless handed me as he heaved and wheezed and sweated (and smelled rather stinky, as I imagined) in the late summer heat:


And here is the likeness that I want you, dear reader, to store in your memory, so you may be wary should you ever cross paths with this disingenuous subverter of the law (who we can only hope, nay pray, IS in fact wearing underwear):


And here is the image I hold dear to remind me that, while contradictions and incongruities do exist, we–as creatures inhabiting this great planet of ours–are all in some ways one (except you, Officer Bigass;  you are not invited to the oneness party!)

IMG_20130829_205419_648And this photo, Officer Bigass,, is in no way a commentary on you…this pig is, of course, both more fit and more “kosher”…

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