a few weeks ago, i drove by a house where a police cruiser was parked out front. a cop with a moustache and pink nose was talking to a skinny woman with spindly blond hair and a denim sun dress. the house wasn't really a house, more like a shack built around the husk of a trailer. the front yard was unkempt with car parts strewn about.

you know, white trash.

so in that moment as we drive by, i make a voice and say something like,

"he didn't mean to hit me officer. he's a good man. don't take him away. i fell asleep in the driveway and he run over my head with the truck."

after the laughter, i was asked, "do you always have to say something? can't you not make a comment every time?"

yes. i always have to say something. no. i can't drive by a scene like that and not say something. that's me, that's the thing i do.