One of the most brutal donkey punches to a person's life, alongside such
tragedies such as: birthing a retarded baby, gangrene, and bankruptcy is the
dreadful DUI. It's so tragic that they should make sympathy greeting cards
for it. *Especially* if you live in California, a DUI is simply a horrid,
unforgiving, punishment, that seems to go on forever. It almost makes you
wish you had driven into a tree and burst into flames.
Sure you *should* have taken a cab home last night, but that would be
costly, you'd have to wait for it to arrive, *and* suffer through wafts of
BO cascading out of the driver's pits. Then, what if you end up on *Taxi Cab
Confessions* talking about your g-warts? You'd never get laid again! Then
the next day you would have to get a ride back to your car. Eff that! You're
not *that* drunk. Ugh! Just hop behind the wheel, what's the worst that
Then suddenly those wrenched lights appear in your rear view mirror. Maybe
it’s Animal Control and you merely have a raccoon clinging to your bumper? He
will simply ask you to pull over so the little bastard can run into the
woods. Nope, it's the fuzz, and you're off to spend a night in the clink.
Although I don't have a DUI myself, I can feel your pain, and I deserve
many. I kneel on my little rug each morning, thank Allah for not giving me
one, and promise to carry out his wishes in return.
(Note to policemen reading this: if you pull me over drunk, I'll do
ANYTHING to get out of a DUI: back door, front door, Cleveland steamer,
dirty Sanchez, mow the lawn, do your taxes, wash the squad
cars in a gorilla suit, change the litter box, murder your in-laws.)
Many of my friends have received a DUI, and they all say the same things!
The feelings intensify with each subsequent DUI. Here, to ease you through
the awful transition are the 5 stages of grief – normally helpful when
coping with the death of a loved one – applied to your DUI.
No big deal, I'll get out of this. Their Breathalyzer was broken. That
policeman was inept/unfair/not wearing his corrective lenses. Johnny
Cochran himself will crawl out of the grave to defend me. Everything will be
fine, I will keep my drivers license. This is a small matter that I will
squash in a short matter of days.
How dare they convict me!! I paid for a lawyer and everything! I only had 4
glasses of Boone's Farm! I could still drive just fine! I knew I shouldn't
have gone to visit Uncle Cleatus, that rat bastard, this is his fault. Why
didn't I take the frontage road, why??
Please, if I could just get it down to a wet and reckless, it would be ok.
My life is over, I have no driver’s license, I'm drowning in a sea of fines,
there is no coming back from this, this is the worst thing that could
possibly happen to me. Wail!
I'll do my time, and pay the fines. I have no choice. I will eventually
emerge from this hell of my own making, poorer, but wiser. After all,
everybody makes mistakes, even Mel Gibson has a DUI and he's Jesus' BFF.
I know things look bleak now, but stay strong and get yourself a bus pass or
a horse. And for eff's sake don't get another one! If you somehow get a
fourth one, pull over, jump out of the car, and sprint to the nearest semi
to be run over. The fourth is time to end your life.###