Tag Archives: Dunkin’ Donuts

Donut Munching Cops And Their Ticket Quotas!

23 Sep

September 23, 2015

Before I begin, et’s enjoy some fine malt lyrics from House of Pain and their hit Jump Around.

Feelin, funky, amps in the trunk and I got more rhymes
than there’s cops at a Dunkin’ Donuts shop
Sho’ nuff, I got props
From the kids on the Hill plus my mom and my pops

Ah, pure musical genius! So why the musical interlude? (And is it really an interlude if you begin with it? But I digress.) Well, this post is about cops at a Dunkin’ Donuts shop. And of course I got mad props from the kids on the Hill, plus my mom and my pops, yo.

I rarely have run-ins with the po-po. Except for the time I was accused of dealing drugs and run out of Farmingdale I’ve never had a bad police experience. (BTW, that’s a true story. Click here to read my semi-harrowing tale of police intimidation.) But even then, ass-hats that the police were, at least they were doing their jobs. In this case, they were lazy and deliberately gave me a bad ticket to fill a quota and justify their dereliction of duty.

(But I still love you, NYPD! Don’t read this and think I am anti-police! I’m not! It’s just Mayor de Blassio I hate. #onetermmayor)

It was a Saturday a couple of weeks ago. I met Saarah for a quick breakfast at Dunkin’ Donuts. Yup, that’s me, the Big Spender. When I pulled up, there was a police car parked right in from of the store. I know, hard to believe, isn’t it? A cop car in front of a donut shop. The only thing that would have made it more perfect would have been if the cops were these guys:

I am a big Sir Stewart Wallace fan

I am a big Sir Stewart Wallace fan

They also happened be parked right next to the muni-meter. I parked right in front of them. I got out of the car and, being the total paranoid kook that I am, glanced at the cops to make sure they were not running my plates to see how many parking tickets I still hadn’t paid. (BTW, the answer is “none.” See how paranoid I am?) But they were just sitting there. One was reading a newspaper, the other was sipping coffee. I didn’t see any donuts but I guarantee the box was sitting on the seat between them and their uniforms were covered with cruller crumbs.

So I saw them, and since I saw them I know they saw me, since I saw them seeing me (I am writing this at 3am, can you tell?) and they saw me put money in the meter and walk back to my car and put the receipt on the dash. I paid for 45 minutes.

I will skip the details of my Dunkin’ Donuts snack, except to mention that I had neither coffee nor donuts.

We went back to the car and the cops were still sitting there. Saarah made a joke about cops and ticket quotas and how hard it is to fill them when you sit around parked eating donuts all day. (I will now take a dramatic pause while you say “Hey! That’s ironic!”)

We walked back to the car with almost ten minutes still left on the meter. I got in the car and almost, but not quite, turned the key when I saw something orange and evil under one of the wiper blades. It was a $35 ticket for not posting the receipt on my dashboard. With a single muttered “%$^&!” (Yes, I said it just like that) I grabbed the receipt off the dashboard, right where the officer claimed it was not, and took two steps toward the still parked police car-

-which pulled away from the curb and drove away.

They saw me. I was right directly in front of them the whole time. They saw me take the ticket off the window. They saw me grab the receipt. They saw me walk toward them. They saw me look like an idiot as I watched them drive away with, I am sure, mocking laughter.

The two officers sat in front of the donut shop for at least 45 minutes doing nothing. They had to show some activity, I guess, so instead of saying that they were sitting around goofing off, they made it look like they were giving out parking tickets. And they were smart about it too. They couldn’t give me a ticket for not paying the meter or running out of time, which the receipt would easily prove false. They gave me a ticket for not displaying it, so it really comes down to my word against theirs.

I already pled not guilty online, and if I have to, I will sit in traffic court all day and make those lazy SOBs appear so I can call them liars to their faces.

Unless I can’t make it that day.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KZaz7OqyTHQ

http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z5rRZdiu1UE

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Allan Keyes Is Angry About Commercial Stupidity

18 Nov

November 18, 2013

keyes1.jpg

One of my favorite pastimes is going outside and yelling at the clouds. I mean look at them – acting all sexy and seductive, the teases! It’s enough to make me want to take a knife and slash slash slash…..but anyway, my court-appointed therapist informed me that that sort of behavior will be frowned upon by the judge. So as a sort of substitute, I watch TV and yell about the commercials instead. Here’s one that really grinds my gears:

“A HOTDOG MAKES ME LOSE CONTROL”

At first, this one really REALLY irritated me. I mean look – it assumes that a fairly attractive (in a severe way) wife is dumb enough to believe that her husband is openly flirting with the donut girl right in front of her. And that’s an annoying proposition – I HATE HATE HATE commercials that are stupid to the point of insulting. But the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. I mean look, I can’t count how many times I’ve been out with the wife getting lunch (we like to eat) and I take one look at the sandwich artist girl (or guy) making my turkey club and just blurt out “DAMN! I LIKES ME SOME ‘O DAT ASS!” right in front of her.

fat1

I mean, yeah it takes about 20 minutes to convince her that I mean pASStrami but still, I can relate.

fat2

There is one other thing I want to mention – get a look at that “sausage” – it’s a split hotdog. If you find that kind of crap tasty, you deserve to be cursed with a wife who’ll throw down over a donut girl.

fat3
Mr. Blog Asks: Are they that cheap that they couldn’t afford a round patty? 

On a related note, this comes up on youtube as the “STUPIDEST COMMERCIAL EVER”

Hard to disagree really.