Uncle John's Presents Book of the Dumb 2 (6 page)

Now did he go back and ask to be let out? Of course not. Instead, he reasoned that his bulky clothes kept him from sliding under the gate. And so, off came the clothes, and back under the gate Sven went, only to get stuck. So now, we have a rejected drunk, naked Swede pinned under a gate. And there he stayed for several hours in the cold Norwegian night, contemplating love, the universe, and the night breezes on his naked skin.

Eventually, passersby discovered Sven and called the police to extricate him. In the meantime, a team of ace reporters had gathered at the scene to document the event as it unfolded; Sven, crafty as he was, begged the gathered newsmen to say that he had gotten trapped while trying to save a kitten, a story that would have been compromised—nay, deeply
perverted
—by his undressed state. Sven later asked the reporters to note that the woman he'd come to visit was “a real stunner.” It was indeed duly noted.

If this had happened in the United States, Sven probably would have been hauled into jail for public nudity, public drunkenness, and general gross stupidity. In Norway, they just told him to go home, take a shower, and sleep it off. So, if you're ever planning to get stuck naked under a gate, you know where to go.

Source: Associated Press

 

T
he Water Works employees of Erie, Pennsylvania,
first believed something was up after they chased away a mysterious trespasser from the grounds of Sigsbee Reservoir, which contained 33 million gallons of water destined for the use of the good people of Erie. What on Earth would
anyone
be doing near a reservoir so early in the morning?

That's when they saw it: a black bag on the walkway that went around the reservoir. In this day and age, mysterious trespassers and even more mysterious black bags left at reservoirs are not to be trifled with. Fearing sabotage of the city water supply, the Water Works employees called the police. The police ordered a lockdown of the reservoir and of the surrounding neighborhood. Four hours later, members of the local bomb squad discovered that what was inside the black bag was definitely biological, and if not lethal, at least stinky: a pair of, shall we say,
aggressively used, soiled
underwear.

So how did it get there? Well, we're glad you asked. It seems that the night before, one “Terrance,” an 18-year-old, partied a waaayyyy too hard—so hard, in fact, that he passed through the many stages of drunkeness. First there's drunk, then there's falling-down drunk, which can quickly turn into falling-down-and-puking-your-guts-out drunk. Then it starts to get even uglier when you progress to falling-down-and-puking-your-guts-out-with-no-bladder-control drunk, and finally there's one messy step beyond
that.

Terrance went the extra mile to take that one step beyond, and as a result experienced a major party foul in his underwear. A sympathetic friend (who hopefully had a cold at the
time) dragged him home, took him out of his violated attire, stuffed the dirty togs into the infamous black bag, and then hurled the bag over the fence onto the reservoir walkway. End of story.

Until the next morning, when Terrance remembered that the keys to his car were in his pants pocket. Whoops. Off Terrance went to retrieve the keys, only to be shooed away by the Water Works employee, who then found the bag and reported it. The local police and fire departments, the county emergency management team, the bomb squad, and the FBI were not at all thrilled to spend four hours of their life obsessing over what turned out to be a truly craptacular case.

Confronted by the police, Terrance admitted it was his underwear and eventually pled guilty to “defiant trespass,” a misdemeanor. His punishment? A fine of $500 a month for ten months to pay for the cost of the emergency services. That should cut into his discretionary income for drinking. Terrence's remaining underwear is no doubt rejoicing at that bit of news.

Source: Associated Press, Erie
Times-News,
wjettv.com

 

A
sk yourself this question:
if you were a man of the cloth, at what point in the following scenario would you plead for leniency from the police because of your special relationship with the Big Guy?

          
1.
  
Sometime after you crashed your car but before police could evaluate you for intoxication;

          
2.
  
After the cops began evaluating you for intoxication but before you punched one officer in the head when he wasn't looking;

          
3.
  
After slugging one cop but before the other officer dropped you to the ground;

          
4.
  
After hitting the ground but before the paramedics had to strap you to a gurney because you kept cursing and spitting at the police;

          
5.
  
It really doesn't matter because after driving drunk, assaulting an officer, and resisting arrest, you could be Saint Paul and the cops would still be hauling your pious posterior into the pokey.

In the case of “Rod” it turns out that
5
was the correct answer. Early one June 2004 morning, Las Vegas police found Rod at the wheel of a car that had plowed into another vehicle; once the officers got Rod out of his car and started asking him questions, Rod decided it was in his best interest to punch one of the cops, because nothing says “I am sober” like blind-siding a member of the law enforcement community. After
this came the takedown, the cursing, the screaming, and the restraint by the EMTs.

Somewhere along the way, Rod mentioned his calling. “He was saying, ‘I'm a Catholic priest! I'm a Catholic priest!'” said one officer who was at the scene, and indeed, Rod's license showed him dressed in a priest's collar. That's
Father
Drunken Verbally Abusive Cop-Hitter to
you,
pal. But just because you're a man of the cloth doesn't mean that the Big Guy and the cops are going to let you off the hook. Rod's blood alcohol count was 0.34, more than three times the limit.

“We're calling it the case of the holy spirits,” said one police officer. Hey, now. You take down the drunks, pal. We'll handle the jokes.

Source: Las Vegas
Review-Journal

 

L
ike most countries that don't actively promote alcoholism as a way of life,
Sweden has strict laws about underage drinking. And like most countries where teenagers aren't chained to their parents 24–7, Swedish teens will find a way to get a buzz when they want to. Just how far they'd go, however, wasn't entirely clear until 2004's Baltic Sea Music Festival in Karlshamn.

The first signal promoters got that something was amiss was when a 14-year-old girl at the festival was briefly hospitalized with stomach pains. It turns out the teenager had taken liquid soap from the portable toilets at the festival and put it in her soda. Now while one readily admits that teenagers can do any range of stupid things for dubious reasons, this particular action seemed stranger than most. It was then someone remembered a relevant fact about that certain kind of soap—namely, that it was 62 percent alcohol.

This prompted officials from Bajamaja, the company from which the portable toilets had been rented, to check their latrines. “I suspected something was wrong because the soap went like hot cakes,” said Anders Persson, of Bajamaja. Sure enough, the soap was gone—and by the end of the festival, many of the soap dispensers had been smashed. Those crazy kids. Who'd a thought you had to tell them not to drink soap?

Source: Associated Press

 

Y
ou want to be a state trooper in Washington State?
Here's your first tip—apply only when sober.

“Paul” came into the State Patrol headquarters in Clark County, glassy-eyed and slurry-spoken, and asked for a job application. One of the troopers there suggested that asking for a job application from the police while intoxicated might not be such a great way to make a first impression.

Well, of course, Paul was indignant and denied this scandalous drinking rumor. Whereupon another trooper on the scene offered to give Paul a Breathalyzer test. Paul submitted and got a score of .095, comfortably above the .08 limit for legal intoxication. Oh, well, Paul said (or something like it), there was that Long Island Ice Tea he'd had; he quickly explained the fact that he hadn't eaten in more than a day might have been why the drink was hitting him so hard.

This was the part where the troopers asked Paul how he'd gotten to the headquarters. He claimed that someone drove him. “Uh-huh,” they said, “Just remember not to drive home.” Ten minutes later, troopers saw Paul get into a car and drive off. Let's just say the chase was not a particularly long one. He was given more tests, declared legally drunk, and ticketed. His sister had to come and get him.

“I guarantee he's not going to get a job with us,” said Trooper Gavin March. “We've arrested drunks in unexpected ways and places before, but this one just blew me away.” No doubt the citizens of Washington rest easier knowing Trooper Paul will not be on the case.

Source: Seattle
Times