As usual, Georgia is making the news with more of the insanity we Georgians like to call a “shindig hootenanny”, or “more exciting than the time granny got her tit caught in the wringer”, or something. Anyway, in the sleepy suburban town of Peachtree City, where the peace is seldom broken, and the vast herds of golf carts wander the rolling plains; some asshole decided one night to rob the Hampton Inn. He held up the night clerk, I think he robbed the place, but he didn’t stop there. He decided to rape her, too. Still not convinced this dude needs to be skinned alive? He also set her on fire before he left.

Yeah. On fire. Flames.

She lived, but was severely burned, and he was hiding out for a few days before someone saw him at a gas station. He then jumped in a stolen car and took off “at a high rate of speed”. Then in a few seconds that proved that there might in fact be a god, he lost control and went flinging out of the car as it rolled over, and died at the scene. The reason I say “might” be a god is that if God really knew how to kick ass, the guy would have burned to death over the course of the next three hours.

The next fun Georgia thingy was that some 14-year-old girl was suspended indefinitely from her high school for writing a story about someone having a dream that they shot their teacher, and then being killed by security guards. Let’s put that into context before passing judgment- If the story had been written for a class assignment, and the student being written about was herself, and the teacher was a teacher at that school, and she had turned it in, I’d say “okay, suspend her for poor judgment”, but in fact the girl had written it in a private diary and had not mentioned any names. How did anyone read it if it was private? That, my friends is where my eyebrows get all raised with suspicion. One of her teachers confiscated it, probably because she was writing in it rather than listening to the teacher drone on about the worthless crap they tend to drone on about, and then said teacher took it home and read it. That’s the one I would think should be getting the questions. I had a similar situation when I was in high school- I have several sketchbooks that no one has seen except me, and I used to carry them at school. I drew whatever was on my mind, and one day my raging whore of a 10th grade French teacher took it from me. She looked through it and found stuff she didn’t like (which she tore up and threw in the garbage in front of the class, then kicking me out of class, at which time I dumped the garbage out on her floor and took the pieces of my drawing), so we ended up having a big conference with me and my parents and the principal about how I don’t respect authority.

That was the first time I said, “I respect authority when authority acts respectable”.

I never had a real good relationship with that teacher, but the principal thought I was cool.

As it turns out, there was a huge outpouring of support for this girl, and the school board finally let her come back to school. Go supporters. We rule. Of course, if it turns out that she ends up mowing down a dozen people at her school, I’ll feel dumb.

So, here’s my good deed for the week- On Friday before I left, I saw a black bag (like something you would carry on an airplane) outside the building in the area where people wait for the bus. I kept an eye on it for a while, and then I decided that if someone left it there, they’ll probably want it back. Ignoring the TERROR THREAT: YELLOW guidelines, I picked it up on the way to my car and took it home, hoping to find its owner.

Not until I was on the highway did I start to wonder what had made the bag so heavy. I momentarily panicked thinking that it may be an explosive of some sort, and I was going to be vaporized like so many bus-riding Israelis, but since my bomb-disarming knowledge is pretty limited, I figured “hey, that’s what you get for not heeding TERROR THREAT: YELLOW, dumbass.” Then I started wondering if it had a human head in it, and later tonight it would start stinking, and I’d find the terrible secret within. So maybe it has 20 pounds of heroin in it and there is a GPS tracking device that will lead the bad guys to my house, where I will be executed execution style for stealing their smack.

Better yet, what if it is full of $100 bills to pay for said heroin? Holy crap. I’d probably still end up dead, but at least I’d die rich, which is what I plan on anyway, and this would be a lot less work.

Man, I really wanted to know what was in that bag. It was a nice bag. Eddie Bauer, black, lots of zippers and compartments probably holding untold riches or trigger devices for the bomb…

When I got home, I set the bag on my recliner and looked at it. Not in it, but at it. Regardless of what was in it, I know I wouldn’t want some bald headed online diary writer rifling through my shit with his grubby hands, so I pulled out a piece of paper that was in one of the side pockets, and to my delight it didn’t say “you have fifteen seconds to live” to my dismay, it also didn’t say “If found, dial this number and go to your nearest airport. A jet will come pick you up and you will then receive further instructions. This letter will self destruct.” Thus launching me into an exciting life of espionage…

It turned out I had grabbed a phone bill, which kept me from having to dig any further and get essploded or pricked with an infected needle or touching a gross disembodied head. I called the number (still hoping for the whole “A hovercraft will come pick you up and you will then receive further instructions…”) thing, but some guy answered, and thanked me profusely for finding his bag which had been stolen out of his car a couple of days earlier. He’s coming by today to pick it up.

And hopefully give me a utility belt, an electric scooter with machine guns and further instructions.

I want to be a spy.

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