A fantastically ironic story relating to Heart of Atlanta Motel (the Supreme Court case that blew open the Commerce power and helped bring about the Civil Rights Act of 1964).
The crazy racist owner is still alive and ticking... and causing trouble. What a bastard!
I guess those torts cases really do happen in real life
I was driving on the interstate back to school from Big City the other morning when all of a sudden the car started shaking violently. I looked in the rearview mirror and it was like the thing was clamped in one of those industrial paint can mixers--I couldn't see a damn thing the mirror was shaking so hard. So I slowed from 80ish to about 75, when all of a sudden I heard a loud POP-BAAAAAAAA-THUMP THUMP THUMP and the car started doing things and making foreign noises and assorted thumps I really didn't quite like. Meanwhile I'm attempting to move over to the right side while 18-wheelers are blazing by at intergalactic speeds, leaving gusts that are tossing me all over the place as I clutch the wheel for dear life. I had become like the old hag on the bicycle flying around in the tornado outside Dorothy's window just before she turns into the Wicked Witch (den-de-den-de neh neh, den-de-den-de neh neh!).
Luckily I was fortunate enough to finally get safely over to the shoulder. I stopped the car, got out and took a look...
Luckily I was fortunate enough to finally get safely over to the shoulder. I stopped the car, got out and took a look...
That's a real-deal blowout right there folks... Miraculously, I only missed one of my morning classes! Oh, and I'm also alive which is good and also somewhat miraculous.
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