Cape of the Infintesimally Identical Geriatypes

Since Karen is done with the bar and I finished an interesting online assessment test with the IRS to be their collections monkey (for an example of this test, see exhibit 1.1), we drove to the Oregon Coast in search of prized Tillamook Cheese. During the two hour trek through the mountains, I was tailed by a balding, white-haired, old man with a full beard wearing square metal-rimmed glasses in a dark-brown sweater. He was apparently upset because I was in the passing lane (but didn't know it, the laws are different from Hawaii) so he tailed me and flashed his Suzuki's high beams. Naturally in good fun, I brake checked him and got out of the way (did I mention after I brake checked him twice?).

Anyhow, we arrive at the cheese factory and had lunch: a heavy grilled cheese sandwich for Karen and a bacon cheeseburger for me. The cheese was good, but the burger patty tasted slow, lazy, and sleepy. I think, "Oh great, I just ate the underperformer of the local diary." Seriously, would you chase the fastest cow to haul it's 1300 lb (so we found out) carcass in the opposite direction that you just ran? Nope. That's why caniverous aliens will never attack Earth during a bad economic times... too hard to differentiate the fast running performers with bad luck from the truly worthy bacon-cheeseburgers.

Back to reality: okay, while watching the machines pack all that white and yellow salty gold, I notice that there's I'm standing by a balding, white-haired, old man with a full beard wearing square metal-rimmed glasses in a dark-brown sweater. I'm thinking, cr*p... the geriactric unabomber has something against solidified moldy milk and he's going to take us all with him. HE'S PACKING. Fortunately for the sake of completing this blog, nothing happened except for a mild burning sensation in my eyes when I caught a whiff of his body odor. Biological warfare it was. Anyhow, we finished our self-guided tour and then there was another balding, white-haired, old man wearing square metal-rimmed glasses in a dark-brown sweater in the gift shop register. Then there were two more in the ice cream line! It was crazy; in our drive through Tillamook alone, we must've saw about ten old guys who all looked the same. Careful white readers... I think it's inevitable: the years slowly turn your hair white, then your hair starts thinning, then you think, shaving is dangerous cause my hands shake and I can't see my jaw and chin clearly anyway... I think it's time to replace my glasses. Then while looking the glasses at Costco that medicare covers, you think, "hm... I want to get some rims like that other balding, white-haired, old man with a full beard wearing square metal-rimmed glasses... and that's a nice dark-brown sweater by the way. I bet you can't see the crumbs at 4 in the morning from eating toast when they dribble ever so carelessly through your beard and onto your chest.

Anyway, we drove to the lighthouse on the coast (saw another few archetypal geriatype). Then made the 80 mile trek back... it's actually a 60 mile trek, but we decided on another route to extend this fantastic voyage from the Cape of the Infinitesimally Indentical Geriatypes aka Tillamook.

For all of you affected by the economy... Keep reaching!

Exhibit 1.1:
You arrive at a house call with the intent of confiscating a delinquent tax payer's car. The owner of the car runs out as you call the two company and she begs you to stop because she needs it to get to work and can't pay for the added fee for the impound to recover her car. She begs you to let her drive it to a storage place and say you never saw her car. In this situation, you:
A: Agree to let her hide her car
B: Continue with impounding her car
C: Dive for the bushes! She's distracting your attention while her husband, a balding, white-haired, old man with a full beard wearing square metal-rimmed glasses in a dark-brown sweater has road rage and runs to the Suzuki with the intent to hit-and-run!