SEPTEMBER 12th - Am I Drunk?



Note to reader: I read this aloud as Robert Stack. Much funnier.

Meet Frank Eugene Corder. By all accounts, a normal(ish) truck driver who had been honorably discharged from the Army in 1974. Somewhere along the line Frank snapped, a good bet for that somewhere would be on September 11th 1994, when he drunkenly stole a Cessna 150 airplane and crashed on the South Lawn of the White House on September 12th terminating his life, which was thought to be the ultimate plan. Friends would claim that he bore then President Bill Clinton no ill will and simply wanted the publicity of the stunt. But trying to crash into the White House yet harboring no bad intent for the leader of the Free World who resides in the White House is a bit like saying you only put Visine in your ex-girlfriend’s current boyfriend’s wine simply because you wanted him to have the runs all night so you could make a move to get back your ex. I realize now that simile didn’t quite work. Or did it? Perhaps I purposely let it travel off course to mimic Corder’s ill-fated hijacking that ran off course and onto the White House lawn. But then there is always the possibility that I’m just as inebriated as Frank was that fateful night, and I’m pulling this post out of brain cells marinating in alcohol. Then again, if that were actually the case, I certainly wouldn’t tell you about it, I would probably just end this post with some pithy, thinly veiled advice that seems to be about one particular thing but actually contains some deeper real world applications. Like accidentally shifting your car into neutral is not the most optimal way to get from A to B, but it does make the thing a lot easier to push. Am I right? Instead I will simply end by notifying you that you shouldn’t steal a Cessna and try to crash it into the White House. It won’t end well. Call me crazy, but if, for your plan to be a success, you have to actually crash into a something, it’s a bad plan. Because the only time crashing into to things is a desired outcome is in bumper cars. Unfortunately, life is not attached by electric poles and insulated with rubber foam.

Am I drunk?

This day has been Marked.

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