sweatin the small stuff

From the “you know when god hates you” department in conjunction with the “and this is Paul Harvey saying this is some fucked up shit” department…………….

comes the story of a seventy-six year-old woman that was killed in a Queens, New York cemetery the other day. It was noticed that shit was out of place by a passing transit cop who was on his way home after work when he saw this Lincoln Continental sitting off in the grass in the middle of the graveyard. Upon closer inspection fueled by the fact that a New York cop is never off duty, he noticed a pair of legs sticking out from underneath the still running Lincoln.

The legs happened to belong to this old lady who was visiting the grave of her dead husband, which is oddly worded because when you think about it, if she’s visiting her husband’s grave he’d have to be dead wouldn’t he? So saying that she was visiting the grave of her “dead” husband is just a bunch of redundant bullshit isn’t it? Anyway, back to the story.

According to my many inside sources, it seems that the old chick was run over by her own car whilst she was visiting the grave of her dead husband……goddammit did it again. Either way you look at it, it’s some sad sack shit. Here’s this old woman visiting her husband’s grave and as she struggled to her feet after leaving flowers and a presumably sappy note she turns around to walk up the hill to her car.

When wham, bam, thank you ma’am, her fuckin big assed Lincoln jumps out of park by it’s own damn self hits her, dragging her screaming old ass underneath it. Which to me sounds like some old school whoo, whoo, twilight zone shit. According to my many inside sources, after reaching Saint Peter’s Gate, she was met by Saint Peter who handed her a note from her dead husband that said; “how you like me now bitch? I told your stinkin ass I’d get the last word in”.


"and the monkey flipped the switch"