Imagine the terror that Mr. Patrick Kennedy must have felt, having gone to bed after ingesting a handful of ambien, as he came to in his automobile, fully dressed, barreling along, the radio on psywarop, feeling slightly giddy, having no idea where he was going, wondering why his automobile lights were off, as the impact clock quickly ticked down, looking up and spying a parked Capitol police car heaving into view through his dirty windshield.
Remembering to move his foot toward the break pedal, he continued pumping it madly, feeling no immediate effect, swerving to avoid the marked car, then finally, almost too late, the car slows and, in extremely slow motion, finally slamming into that gradually appearing mirage of a wall materializing from the mist that was clogging his tunnel vision.
Whoa, the slightly addled Representative said to himself after enduring the sudden deceleration, as he staggered from the steaming vehicle as the police officers approached him.
Wait, there's got to be a reason for driving around the Capitol in the middle of the night with my lights off and wrecking my new car.
Think, dammit, think what you're doing here. Pull yourself together.
Oh, yes, I'm here to vote, for chrissakes. That's the magic word, too. Vote. Tell the cops you're here to vote and they've got to let you go--like magic words--that's it!
What, the voting ended three hours ago? I don't believe it.
One of the first lessons they teach you when you learn to drive is to flick on the lights at night. Flying blind will get you into nothing but trouble, let alone when you toss some ambien into the painfully volatile mix.
Of course, the second thing they--the driving instructors and the local gendarmes--bang on about is the need for reasonable speed and for making the proper decisions.
She, being a hostess at the Hawk and Dove, a notorious Washington watering hole where Marines drink beer from dog bowls from the floor and where G-Men routinely lie prone on the bar performing stunt drinking while preparing for the Bob Bondurant School, says he had a couple of toddies, just before taking another wrong fork in the road of life.
In any case, Patches, as Mr. Howie Carr, of the Boston Herald, appends the all too hapless spalpeen of the senior Massachusetts senator, had a bit of a rough ride the other night and is still reeling from his highly publicized run in with the errant hammer head and his less relatively well known recent driving fracas three weeks ago in Rhode Island.
But, showing their best enabling capabilities, riding to the poor pol's rescue comes the divining rod of truth, CNN, carrying the lad's water, with their endless line of medical experts going in the box for the boyo with terror stories of madcap behavior attached to ambien's soporific effects, describing the horror of mixing chocolate cake with the sleepy time pills and how Pat's just another victim of big pharmacology gone mad.
another spot on predictor, they delved into, of growing trouble is the increasing sense that many people you don't know are inhabiting your bathroom, whose presence becomes noticeable after you've washed down additional ambiens, especially when the later--a sure contraindication-- compulsion to drive to Congress for participation in a fictitious vote overcomes the unwary.
at least Patrick was able to avoid the dreaded lines below a perp walk to jail photo which might have read…
The obsessive and careless behavior evinced by Representative Kennedy from Rhode Island, in his latest bout of beastliness behind the wheel, convinced the jury that the junior member was a careless sociopath capable of wantonly destroying the lives of both the police officers who apprehended him and the public at large, given half the chance, and that he deserved a guilty verdict, delivered in a swift and fair fashion to send the community proper message.
Of course, according to Rush, at DrunkBastards.com, Phenergan, Mr. Kennedy's other drug of choice on his highway to hell, is trumpeted as an excellent hangover medication.
Maybe Patches is on to something.
Luckily, for everybody on the road, he's entering rehab.
Go Speed Racer, Go!
Pursuant to Title 17 U.S.C. 107, other copyrighted work is provided for educational purposes, research, critical comment, or debate without profit or payment. If you wish to use copyrighted material from this site for your own purposes beyond the 'fair use' exception, you must obtain permission from the copyright owner. Views are those of authors and not necessarily those of Canada Free Press. Content is Copyright 1997-2024 the individual authors. Site Copyright 1997-2024 Canada Free Press.Com Privacy Statement