Anecdotal evidence suggests that with gas again nearing the $1.20/litre benchmark in many regions, carpooling is coming back into vogue. Which is all well and good… unless any of these seven nitwits jump into the pool:
Good old Knowlton. It’s all about me-me-me, with Knowlton. Thus, when we hit gridlock on the highway, Knowlton naturally admonishes the driver given that Knowlton claimed to have known the highway was going to be a write-off (alas, Knowlton never offered to reveal such a crucial piece of information prior to the car getting on the merge ramp, mind you… )
Knowlton then goes on to pepper passengers with useless “facts” about subject matter nobody cares about.
Moe absolutely needs his music in the morning. And that music is always ghastly heavy metal on a custom-recorded digital selection from his smartphone (“it’s the soundtrack of my life, man” Moe says without a hint of jocularity.) So it is that Moe, when allowed to get his way, rocks his head back and forth to the music as if he were a passenger in Garth’s AMC Pacer from Wayne’s World. Sonic sadness.
For dear old Doris, the glass was always half-empty; clouds never have a silver lining. She finds a dark side to every situation. Examples: filling up with gas at the local Esso, Doris drones on about the dangers of benzene. Buying some snacks on the go, Doris recites the caloric and cholesterol content. And when someone tells a genuinely funny joke, Doris doesn’t laugh but picks apart the punchline by way of political correctness.
Rolling up at Tina’s place and laying on the horn, Tina invariably comes to the door clad in her bathrobe, a telltale sign she has yet to shower. A five-finger signal conveys she’ll be ready in “five minutes” (although we already know it’s going to be at least 15 given her makeup requirements alone). A slow burn ensues, knowing that Tina will profusely apologize for being late and will promise it will never happen again… even though the exact same routine awaits the next day and the day after because Tina seems incapable of figuring out how to program an alarm clock.
Too Much Info Tommy
If Tommy “scored” last night, we’d hear about it. If he bench-pressed 350 at the gym we’d hear about it. If he’s suffering from haemorrhoids we’re all informed of the nitty-gritty details. Tommy is a one-man all-news network, every item pertaining to the peaks and valleys unfolding on Planet Tommy.
The conversation always begins with his “trademark” phrase, “Hey, how ’bout those Blue Jays?” (which, of course, he ripped-off from a local TV sportscaster.) Then Spencer transforms himself into a walking, talking Elias Sports Bureau of completely useless, irrelevant and mind-numbingly boring baseball trivia dating back to the days when the Dodgers and Giants were based in New York.
Hank was proof positive there are some people in our modern day world who just don’t pay attention to all those ads promoting Old Spice, Colgate, Listerine and myriad other personal hygiene products. However, Hank is always well-versed in the merits of consuming raw garlic. Thus, with Hank in the car, it isn’t unusual to commute with the windows rolled all the way down – even if the temperature was minus 23.