http://porktornado.diaryland.com/Will somebody pick this guy off already?
Local news- some raging sweetheartloaf killed his girlfriend in Florida and is now perched mightily atop a construction crane in Atlanta. I can see him from my office. Oh sorry, ALLEGEDLY killed his girlfriend. Who knows? He might be an ordinary wheelchair mechanic who wanted to clear his head and decided that halting construction on a highrise, blocking four lanes of traffic and shutting down a dozen businesses on Peachtree Road was the best way to do it.
I found out about it on my ill-fated drive to work Thursday morning.
I stopped off for my morning Red Bull on the way to work. I promptly spilled it and drove the rest of the way to work trying not to let my bellybutton touch the seat. The situation was greatly exacerbated by two things- my back having spasms like mad, and my bad decision to cut over to Peachtree road so I could stop and get some vittles, which I forgot to do when I saw the traffic. Peachtree road is blocked in both directions because of Admiral Craneypants's tomfoolery of late.
My phone rang four times on the way to work with my witty friends calling to talk me down from the crane. Good to know I am the first person they think of when someone does something stupid.
I finally made my way to a parking lot on Buckhead Avenue to stretch my back out and dry the seat of my car and my pants. I noticed that I was in front of a gun shop and told the guy that if they'd let me borrow something high powered in a scope, I could have Peachtree Road reopened in 11 seconds.
Apparently that joke was as original as the one where people call me to talk me down from the crane. Then my phone rang again. A friend told me that it wasn't so bad and I should just come down from the crane.
ha.
The news is calling this guy a "suspect" as if there's no way to be sure that he is actually sitting up on a crane in front of god and everybody. He's right there, just like the "suspect" who is weaving through traffic, evading police, and spraying gunfire out his window in a car chase. I'm no Sonny Crockett, but I'd say he's your guy.
If I was in charge, we'd see how far (and accurately) we could fling him by turning the crane around as fast as it would go. In fact, that might be how we deal with all "suspects". Trebuchet style.
I brought that up at lunch, mentioning that if this was happening in China they would have already sent a chimpanzee out there for a death match and no one would care as ears and armpits rained down on passersby too disinterested to bother looking up. It rains body parts almost every day in China. We were having lunch about a half block from the scene, so the ideas started to flow…
I decided they should give him a hang glider and a 10 second head start, and say "Here's your last chance at awesomedom. Don't blow it." Dave then reminded me of how easily he could get away by gliding to the next crane, then to a cellular relay tower, a radio antenna, and so on until he was out of the state. Dave is smart- he went to Georgia Tech.
Let's assume the guy is just after attention. It would have been just as easy to barricade himself in his bathroom, but no. He has to climb up 250 feet to get all of the eyeballs on him. The best way to get him down is obvious in this case. Find a taller, possibly more engulfed in flames crane and have someone climb to the top of it. Maybe with a hostage or a baby penguin or something. Suddenly the focus shifts, and the negotiators at crane number one start saying things like "Yeah…uh…sit tight. There's a more dramatic situation in Midtown." Then they'd all leave but before they could even get to their cars, the guy would be running up behind them, all "Hey guys? You mind if I come along? Don't leave." Situation resolved, *****es.
Dave then said that if the crane was mobile, they could just drive it to jail and let him live on it if he wanted to.
It isn't mobile, so I suggested they halt construction on the highrise condo building (since there are only about forty trillion of those built in Atlanta every hour) and just build a prison around him with the crane of irony. Buckhead is mostly criminals anyway. They could use a prison. If he doesn't come down by this weekend, surely he'll be hit by a stray bullet.
We then started to wonder if after 20 hours atop a crane this guy is dehydrated to the point of delirium. If so, Dave conjectured, a thermos full of cold water would be mighty tempting…until he opened it. Because Dave's thermos would be full of bees. They'd be angry, too, because they've been in a thermos all day and that'll piss a bee off. That's probably the best solution if you want good television, because from the ground you wouldn't be able to see the bees. Just a guy flailing around until he fell off.
If you think I am insensitive, you are right and wrong. I just happen to be sensitive to the needs of law-abiding, productive citizens who are trying to go about their day and protect their livelihood. Not so much the wackjob on the crane. Call me nuts.
Anyway, at the office we have a "coming down one way or the other" pool going. You put your money on a time of day, and no matter how he comes down, winner takes all. If I happen to go buy a rifle at, say…2:10 pm today, it is clearly unrelated so shut up.
The moral of this story has nothing to do with the story itself, which is why it is so great-
Any time someone asks you a lead-in question, it's best to outdo them with your answer.
"Guess what I got"
"A pet chupacabra?"
"No…a puppy."
"Not as cool as a chupacabra."
And another-
"Hey, know what I did last night?"
"Killed a transsexual with your bare hands just so you could see it naked without feeling gay? 'Cause that's what I did."
"…no…I went to the fair and got my picture taken with a smurf."
"Oh. Well…that's cool, but you're only six years old. Now go mix uncle Dusty a G&T before I destroy your faith in humanity."
