Some fella said, "You can keep quiet and some will suspect you're stupid. Or you can open your mouth and remove all doubt." Words of wisdom verified here.
Det Mike Grimm and I'd been one step behind a slime ball. We wanted to jail him, but everywhere we looked he'd just left. Finally, we got a tip he was at a local boarding house. We beat it over there, met the landlady, and told her who we were looking for.
"He just ran in here, grabbed his belongings, and said he was going on a trip," the lady said.
It was bitter-sweet news. Getting rid of him was about as good as putting him in jail. "Hope you got your rent money," I said. "We've been after him for a while and he's the sorriest, thieving, deadbeat scum we've ever seen. You're way better off without him."
The landlady looked at me in dismay. "But, he's my son," she said.
Open mouth, insert foot.
Then there's the time my associate, Mr. Grimm, was working his part-time job as a barber. The shop banter was centered on sorry human beings. After the list of politicians had been savaged, Mike announced, "I have the world's champion sorry S.O.B. A drunken, lazy, piece of trash a dog wouldn't lift his leg on. Name's Piddlin' Paul Pooper the Plumber. Everyone laughed because Mike was right, Piddlin' Paul was renown for worthlessness. Everyone laughed except Mike's customer, who turned around in the chair and said, "That's my Daddy."
Open mouth, insert foot.
Of course when you're flying on liquid stupid, the brain is disengaged. Two local boozers could tell you all about it. At the time they could've been called Stumblin and Dumb.
Both were at a dance at the Cove Inn when they spotted a Latin gent in formal wear, dancing with a beautiful woman. At the time, Latins weren't as common in Naples as now.
"Lookit that greaseball," Dumb said, "what the hell's he doin' in here."
"And lookit those threads. What's he, the head waiter?" offered Stumblin. "Let's go kick his az outta here."
Staggering over to the dancer, Dumb said, "We 'spect you better get where you belong, before we put you there."
The Latin's eyes flashed just a second before he said. "You men are obviously drunk. Why don't you go on, I don't want to take advantage of you."
"Take advantage of us?" the Dumb said, "You Rocky Marciano or something?"
"No," the lovely dance partner said, "but he is Alexis Arguello, the World's Lightweight Boxing Champion." And so he was.
Open mouth, insert foot.
This wasn't their only really bad mistake. Another night, at the Cove, they perceived that a car had parked too close to them as they stumbled along, on and off the sidewalk. "Watch where you're going," Dumb yelled at the diminutive man that alighted from the diver's side, "or I'll come over there an kick your azzz."
Immediately, the passenger's door opened and out stepped a large human being. "Why don't you pick on somebody your own size," he growled.
Since the two were pretty hefty themselves, this seemed like a real good idea. Later, in the hospital, Dumb said something like a cannon shot knocked him ten feet in the air. Stumblin said all he remembered was being crushed like the garbage in a waste management truck. It was a profitable lesson, however, both quit their drinking and became reputable citizens. . .and my good friends.
Oh yeah, the big guy. Dick Butkus, Chicago Bears.
Open mouth. . .need I say it?
Det Mike Grimm and I'd been one step behind a slime ball. We wanted to jail him, but everywhere we looked he'd just left. Finally, we got a tip he was at a local boarding house. We beat it over there, met the landlady, and told her who we were looking for.
"He just ran in here, grabbed his belongings, and said he was going on a trip," the lady said.
It was bitter-sweet news. Getting rid of him was about as good as putting him in jail. "Hope you got your rent money," I said. "We've been after him for a while and he's the sorriest, thieving, deadbeat scum we've ever seen. You're way better off without him."
The landlady looked at me in dismay. "But, he's my son," she said.
Open mouth, insert foot.
Then there's the time my associate, Mr. Grimm, was working his part-time job as a barber. The shop banter was centered on sorry human beings. After the list of politicians had been savaged, Mike announced, "I have the world's champion sorry S.O.B. A drunken, lazy, piece of trash a dog wouldn't lift his leg on. Name's Piddlin' Paul Pooper the Plumber. Everyone laughed because Mike was right, Piddlin' Paul was renown for worthlessness. Everyone laughed except Mike's customer, who turned around in the chair and said, "That's my Daddy."
Open mouth, insert foot.
Of course when you're flying on liquid stupid, the brain is disengaged. Two local boozers could tell you all about it. At the time they could've been called Stumblin and Dumb.
Both were at a dance at the Cove Inn when they spotted a Latin gent in formal wear, dancing with a beautiful woman. At the time, Latins weren't as common in Naples as now.
"Lookit that greaseball," Dumb said, "what the hell's he doin' in here."
"And lookit those threads. What's he, the head waiter?" offered Stumblin. "Let's go kick his az outta here."
Staggering over to the dancer, Dumb said, "We 'spect you better get where you belong, before we put you there."
The Latin's eyes flashed just a second before he said. "You men are obviously drunk. Why don't you go on, I don't want to take advantage of you."
"Take advantage of us?" the Dumb said, "You Rocky Marciano or something?"
"No," the lovely dance partner said, "but he is Alexis Arguello, the World's Lightweight Boxing Champion." And so he was.
Open mouth, insert foot.
This wasn't their only really bad mistake. Another night, at the Cove, they perceived that a car had parked too close to them as they stumbled along, on and off the sidewalk. "Watch where you're going," Dumb yelled at the diminutive man that alighted from the diver's side, "or I'll come over there an kick your azzz."
Immediately, the passenger's door opened and out stepped a large human being. "Why don't you pick on somebody your own size," he growled.
Since the two were pretty hefty themselves, this seemed like a real good idea. Later, in the hospital, Dumb said something like a cannon shot knocked him ten feet in the air. Stumblin said all he remembered was being crushed like the garbage in a waste management truck. It was a profitable lesson, however, both quit their drinking and became reputable citizens. . .and my good friends.
Oh yeah, the big guy. Dick Butkus, Chicago Bears.
Open mouth. . .need I say it?
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