Police, Lot Lease & Hair Grease

A Little Dab Will Do Ya!

They're having a huge holiday food drive in my parking lot today.

Usually, I'm all for food drives. You get to give away all those cans of lentil soup & assorted vegetables your mom bought for you so you'd eat healthy, and the pore & starvin' get a few good meals between now & New Years.

Unfortunately, the side effect of having the food drive in the parking lot means that suddenly we go from a parking space surplus, to El Cap having to perch his truck on a tilting concrete slab overlooking the bayou, 'cause that's the only space remaining when I get back from this morning's meeting with the Treehugger Brigade.

This parking SNAFU comes after a spirited five minute debate session with 3 of Houston's finest blocking the lot entrance trying to convince them that I do indeed need to park my truck here, and parking over at the courthouse isn't an option since I have the wrong flavor of parking pass. These gendarmes didn't quite reach the point of fondling their tasers, but I'm sure that's only because I was wearing my official "Property of The Man" shirt, and my issue ID is the radiant hue issued to those of us that work in one of The Man's Household Guard divisions.

Anyway, once I get past Jonnie, Ronnie & Scrawny Law, I'm staggered at the number of spaces taken up by the Sheriff's Dept. They lease some spaces in the lot so they'll have a place to stage their vehicles for the weekly warrant raids. Again, no problem with the idea in concept, just in execution.

See, these nitwits hog all the good parking spaces over by the shuttle bus stop. They do not ride the shuttle, and indeed have no reason to park at that end of the lot. They drive their personal vehicles in, gear up in all their Tactical Tommy outfits, climb into the Dept. vans & cruisers, and head out to raise havoc. You'd think they could park over by the security booth, but NooooooOOOO!!! They just have to stick it to the civilians, just 'cause they can.

Finally, there's Mr. Brylcreem. While waiting for the shuttle to arrive in order to catch a ride into downtown, this guy walks up and plops down on the bench next to me, and I'm assaulted by the aroma of Brylcreem.

Gadzooks, but I hate that smell. I think it's partially the aroma of the hair grease, but I'm pretty sure it also carries a pong of unwashed hair and scalp.

If this was some old geezer, I'd probably think nothing about it. The old timers grew up in an era where Brylcreem, Vitalis and other assorted hair greases were the bee's knees for wrestling the ol' pompadour into shape. Hell, in a pinch, you could just slap a glob of axle grease on the noggin, give it a few swipes with the comb, and be OK.

On a side note, I worked for this old man way back when who held that axle grease was a miracle product. He recommended it for just about everything.

Skin rash? Rub on the axle grease.
Squeaky hinge? Rub on the axle grease.
Spousal frigidity? Rub on the axle grease.
Constipated? Eat a fistful of axle grease.

He was also the one that told me about using it as a hair care product. I used to wonder how he lived so long as a chain smoker and frequent drinker. Turns out he must've had a pretty thick coating of Cosmoline...

Oh, back to Mr. Brylcreem... This guy was barely in his 20's!! WTF??? You're much to be young to be combing your hair like your grandfather!!

Dude, there's mousse, gel, hairspray, all manner of hair care products that don't make you look like you got your hair done at Jiffy-Lube!

Sigh. I'm definitely getting old & crochety. Set off on a rant by hair grease...