Brain Farts Brain Fart brain farts brain fart brain-fart brain-farts brainfart brainfarts LEO Louisville Eccentric Observer parody lampoon satire Louisville Kentucky Kevin Gibson kgramone@aol.com kgramone humor
Brain Farts was a weekly humor column that ran in the Louisville Eccentric Observer (LEO) from mid-2000 until the summer of 2002. It was, well, eccentric. And occasionally satirical. And sardonic. Some liked it, some hated it; some just didn't get it, and that's OK. There were times when I didn't get it either. I've compiled here some of the archives from Brain Farts for the enjoyment of friends, family and anyone else who happens by. I also have written some new Brain Farts, and added some links and other trivialities that you shouldn't be too concerned with.
Unless you're as bored as I am.
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Brain Farts: Bye-bye, Birdie |
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By Kevin Gibson |
I’m
sure the guy in the Oldsmobile didn’t mean to cut off the guy in the GEO
Tracker. He just didn’t see him.
The guy in the Tracker slammed his brakes, nearly wrecked. It became like slow
motion — driver raises hand, unfurls the dreaded middle finger like a flag in
the wind.
The man in the first car never knew what hit him. As soon as the finger stood
erect, the rear left tire of the Oldsmobile blew with a loud bang. The driver
negotiated his hobbled car to the side of the road.
The guy in the blue Explorer behind them both was tired of going so slowly in
the fast lane, so he took aim at the Tracker. The deadly finger cocked and —
BAM! — the back end of the Tracker lifted off the ground and the car caromed
across the right lane, just in front of a Jeep Cherokee — whose driver
immediately unholstered his middle finger at the guy in the Explorer.
CRACK! The Explorer’s right rear window burst into a million pieces. The
Cherokee driver took aim again. POW! The passenger side door crunched into a
twisted mess, and the force of the blow sent the Explorer reeling into the
median.
As I realized I was lucky to have escaped this fray, I heard the honking horn
behind me. I glanced down at my speedometer to find I had dipped below 55 mph.
Oh no.
I didn’t see the gesture, but the force of the blow popped all the plastic
windows in my Jeep Wrangler; the air whipped around me and the roar of the
freeway engulfed my ears. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw the driver of
the Monte Carlo winding up for another shot. I swerved into the left lane.
Another horn honked, and now the guy in the Grand Am was ticked off at me, too.
BAM! He let one fly, and the back door of my Jeep buckled and pushed me forward.
Nothing was in front of me or I would have crashed for sure. SMASH! The Monte
Carlo driver hadn’t given up, and suddenly I was knocked sideways.
The Jeep shot down into the median and came to a stop on its own. I was just
glad to be upright and alive. Dazed, I sat there for a few minutes just looking
around. Then I heard a voice.
“Hey, you OK?” It was a guy in a Jetta who had witnessed the incident and pulled
over. I nodded, and suddenly a cop pulled in behind him. Through his PA, the cop
said, “Sir, you can’t stop here.”
The Jetta guy whirled around and let one fly, and the cop car exploded in a
fiery ball. Parts rained down all around. The guy cursed and sped away. I
started the Jeep and got back onto the highway, being very, very careful to use
my turn signal.
Contact the writer at kgramone@aol.com.
Soon.