Laugh Lines

Peachtree

City. If you are not familiar with us, we are just a

humble little community. We are truly a throwback to

simpler times. Where the rest of the city of Atlanta is

caught in traffic driving at a snail's pace, 15 miles per

hour, we in Peachtree City won't put up with such

metropolitan rubbish; we are traveling along the

beautiful scenery in our golf carts, at... uh... 15 miles

per hour. We have, like, 15,000 golf carts in Peachtree

City and, like, 200 golfers.

In Peachtree City, we also

hold ourselves to very high and strict standards. As a

matter of fact, like the Victorian age, you might even

see poor lost souls about, carrying the scarlet letter

branded across their clothes for all to see. Such a

shame. These are the people you would see with the letter

"K," who have been caught buying their clothes

at Kmart!!

In the same right, we have

to be the SUV capital of the world! The sports utility

vehicle. Pathfinders, Cherokees, Explorers, Expeditions.

Everywhere you go, this is all you see. We just have to

be so trendy and so superior. Leather bucket seats, CD

player, rack and pinion steering. Oops, I'm back to

talking about golf carts again.

But, I bet we have more

SUVs than golf carts. Women are especially crazy when

they drive these things. They think they are mountain men

or something. These petite, tennis-dress-clad ladies are

running me off the road, becoming the WCW equivalent of

drivers. I think the initials SUV really stand for

"Surrender U Vermin."

To change the subject, I

got the hot fries today. You've had these, I know. This

is why you are waiting so long at the drive-thru at

McDonald's.

They are making up the

French fries. They are always behind with the fries. Hmm,

like what percentage of people order fries with their

meals? Could it be like 100 percent? But no, they have

the guy over there with the paper hat, and polyester

outfit just waiting. He has the 10-pound bag of frozen

potatoes and the converted hamster cage, wire basket,

whatever; just waiting first for the order to be taken.

"Hey, we need fries!" Now, like, 30 people are

waiting in line and he puts enough fries in the basket

for, like, four orders! Everybody is gonna want fries!

So now, I get the hot

french fries. If there was ever a culinary object lesson

for the fires of hell, this is it. You can't even get

them from the drive-thru window to your front seat

without burning yourself. The person in the window is

handing them over wearing oven mitts, fire alarms are

going off, you're having to wear sunscreen. These things

will make asbestos cry. NASA could learn a thing or two

from McDonald's.

"What? You can build a

space ship to travel to the moon and reenter the

atmosphere without burning up?" "We can turn

hard-frozen potatoes into sizzling cholesterol sticks in

less than four minutes."

But now we have to eat the

fries. And we can't let them cool. We have to figure all

kind of ways to try to eat them hot. We hold them between

our teeth and blow. Some people sort of let them just

sizzle on top of their tongue saliva. And you have the

ones who chase the fry with a big gulp of Coke; the

french fry just floating around in a big mouthful of

soda.

There's plenty of soda

these days, too. Is it just me or are the drinks getting

bigger and bigger? You can hardly hold them between your

legs anymore while you're driving.

People try to say road rage

is caused by the combination of traffic and bad drivers.

I say everybody is just temporarily insane, cause they

are driving around with their top half nearly scalded

from french fries and the bottom half suffering from

hypothermic shock from holding the equivalent of a liquid

nitrogen silo against your groin.

And this is just on the

golf cart.

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