No, I am not talking about livestock here, but rather the filthy swine who insist on throwing trash on the street.

During a recent walk, I turned one of my regular corners and saw that litter was strewn in the street ahead of me for at least a half a block. One didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out how the litter got there. The trash itself told the story.

Obviously two people had picked up a ‘to go” order at McDonalds. (Two of just about everything were there, but the two large Pepsi cups were the clincher.) In addition to drinking a large soda, each pig also had a Big Mac and fries. Apparently they shared an order of McNuggets (I believe that’s what they’re called). Oh, I almost forgot. Between them, they used three ketchup packets on the fries and, of course, there were also napkins.

When these pigs finished these culinary delights, they simply pitched all the containers, wrappings, napkins, ketchup packets and the bag out of the car window. The wind took care of scattering their roadside deposit so as to cover half a block.

Yo, Jimbo. What oughta be done to assholes who do this?

Good question.

For sure, we can’t give ‘em the death penalty. Hell, nowadays in Jersey you can kill hundreds of people and be guaranteed as a matter of law not to get the juice.

How about fines?

Nah. They don’t work.

How about this? (I’m serious as a heart attack here.)

If convicted of tossing garbage on the street, there will be a mandatory jail sentence. Based on the amount of garbage tossed, the judge would have discretion to impose a jail term of from five to thirty days. But, the judge would also have discretion to suspend the sentence, if the defendant agrees that for each day of the jail sentence to spend a weekend picking up trash in the town, eight hours per day.

So, instead of five days in the slammer, the pig could spend five weekends cleaning up other pigs’ garbage from the street. Instead of thirty days in the slammer, the pig could spend thirty weekends cleaning up the streets. You don’t show up for street cleaning duty, the suspended sentence would be imposed.

Yo, Jimbo. How would the police know who threw the stuff from a car? Each person in the car could say the other guy threw the trash. Have you thought this through?

Another good question. Yes, I have considered this.

Under my rule, the driver, as the person responsible for what goes on in the car, would be legally culpable, and if it could be proven that someone other than the driver tossed the trash, then that person would get nailed as well. I figure that would go a long way toward having drivers keep their pals from tossing shit out the window.

Oh, and one more thing.

The pigs who opt for street cleaning rather than jail would have to clean the streets while wearing a reflective orange vest on which appear the words, “I’M A SLOB.”

I oughta be a judge.

My buddy Brian, the Air Force Vet sent me these a while ago. Neither he nor I know whether any of these are true, but they managed to make me laugh on this coldish, rainy, dreary Saturday afternoon. I am a bit embarassed to admit that I laughed out loud at Number 3.

1. A man comes into the ER and yells, “My wife’s going to have her baby in the cab!” I grabbed my stuff, rushed out to the cab, lifted the lady’s dress and began to take off her underwear. Suddenly I noticed that there were several cabs -and I was in the wrong one.
Submitted by Dr. Mark MacDonald, San Antonio, TX.

2. At the beginning of my shift I placed a stethoscope on an elderly and slightly deaf female patient’s anterior chest wall. “Big breaths,” I instructed. “Yes, they used to be,” replied the patient.

Submitted by Dr. Richard Byrnes, Seattle, WA

3. One day I had to be the bearer of bad news when I told a wife that her husband had died of a massive myocardial infarct. Not more than five minutes later, I heard her reporting to the rest of the family that he had died of a “massive internal fart.”

Submitted by Dr. Susan Steinberg, Manitoba, Canada

4. During a patient’s two week follow-up appointment with his Cardiologist, he informed me, his doctor, that he was having trouble with one of his medications. “Which one?” I asked. “The patch. The nurse told me to put on a new one every six hours and now I’m running out of places to put it!” I had him quickly undress and discovered what I hoped I wouldn’t see. Yes, the man had over fifty patches on his body! Now, the instructions include removal of the old patch before applying a new one.

Submitted by Dr. Rebecca St. Clair, Norfolk, VA

5. While acquainting myself with a new elderly patient, I asked, “How long have you been bedridden?” After a look of complete confusion she answered…”Why, not for about twenty years – when my husband was alive.”

Submitted by Dr. Steven Swanson, Corvallis, OR

6. I was caring for a woman and asked, “So how’s your breakfast this morning?” “It’s very good, except for the Kentucky Jelly. I can’t seem to get used to the taste” the patient replied. I then asked to see the jelly and the woman produced a foil packet labeled “KY Jelly.”

Submitted by Dr. Leonard Kransdorf, Detroit, MI

7. A nurse was on duty in the Emergency Room, when a young woman with purple hair styled into a punk rocker Mohawk, sporting a variety of tattoos and wearing strange clothing, entered. It was quickly determined that the patient had acute appendicitis, so she was scheduled for immediate surgery. When she was completely disrobed on the operating table, the staff noticed that her pubic hair had been dyed green, and above it there was a tattoo that read, “Keep off the grass.” Once the surgery was completed, the surgeon wrote a short note on the patient’s dressing, which said, “Sorry, had to mow the lawn.”

Submitted by RN no name

AND FINALLY!!!…………….

8. As a new, young MD doing his residency in OB, I was quite embarrassed when performing female pelvic exams. To cover my embarrassment I had unconsciously formed a habit of whistling softly. The middle-aged lady upon whom I was performing this exam suddenly burst out laughing and further embarrassing me. I looked up from my work and sheepishly said, “I’m sorry. Was I tickling you?” She replied, “No doctor, but the song you were whistling was, “I wish I was an Oscar Meyer Wiener”.

Dr. Wouldn’t submit his name

As is my custom, I stopped this morning at my local 7-11 to grab a cup of coffee and a pack of smokes. There was only one car in the lot when I pulled in. ”Sweet,” I thought. ”I’ll be outta there in about three minutes!” When I walked into the store, it was even better. The one car in the lot turned out to have been occupied by only one person, and that person was being waited on.

I walked briskly directly to the coffee counter and poured myself a 20 oz. black coffee. I snapped on the lid and was good to go. Money already in hand, I turned to walk to the counter. This was going to be an “in-and-out” record! This is going to be a great day.

No such luck.

It seems that the woman who was driving the one car in the lot and who was the only other person in the store, was in the process of buying an 8×11 sheet of paper full of lottery numbers. As if that wasn’t bad enough, English was not her first language.

It got worse. English was also not the first language of the guy behind the counter punching in the dizzying array of numbers, and his first language was not the same as herr first language.

It got worse yet. The lady buying seemingly every permutation of three-digit numbers (and whose first language was not English) was talking on a cell phone (in a language other than English) throughout the entire gut-wrenching process.