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Ever wonder why there’s a “Panic Button” on your car key? Is it labeled such because when you accidently press it and your alarm wakes up the whole neighborhood, you panic and struggle to find a way to turn it off?
The manufacturers say it’s there in the case of an emergency – like if you’re being attacked. But is this little red button on my car key really going to help? I mean, if a gang is about to jump you, can you point your key at them with your thumb resting on that little button and exclaim, “Not one step closer, you vagrants!!”
In all actuality, I’ve found that most people only use the button when they’ve lost their car in a five-story parking complex.
Can’t remember where you parked? Simply press the button, turn an ear to the wind, and you’ll find your vehicle right next to the stunned and angry woman with her coffee spilled on her lap, parked next to your blaring mini-van!
Next, comedian Chris Rossetti calls into the show to talk about a conspiracy he recently discovered within the airline industry. There is an unwritten bias against large flyers (aka frequent eaters). You see, years ago, flying was a luxury. Planes had much fewer seats, therefore much larger seats and much more room in between seats. There may have even been swimming pools and bowling allies on board.
Nowadays, the airlines have us all crammed into the hull like sardines. The only people who seem to like big guys on a plane are the pilots. They see a big boned fella’ and sigh in relief, assuming that so long as the big guy stands near the cockpit door, no terrorist can budge him and get in.
But the biggest change lately is in the interactions between “heavies” and the flight personnel. Once upon a time, they would whisper discretely, “Sir, are you sure that you will be comfortable flying with us today? Have you ever sat in one of our seats before?” It was a subtle thing.
Not anymore. Today, the fatter passengers get pulled out of line, as the crew announces, “We will now be pre-boarding any invalids, or elderly, or families with small children, and – oh by the way – the elephant in the room: THIS GUY!
But here’s a solution: a march on Washington: The Million Pound March! Participants will meet at a Five Guys in D.C., then march across the street and raid a Krispy Kreme, then catch a cab for the finale – a two-day ascent up the steps to the Capital Building! It’s there that they will demand “Big Seats for Big People / Small Seats for Small People!”
Finally, the Know-It-All-Guy changes his two cents for a dollar in regards to Fourth of July fireworks. Apparently, the history of celebrating with fireworks goes all the way back to the Flinstones prehistoric days. How else did BamBam get his name? See, one day, BamBam got together with his buddies in Barney’s garage and formed the first rock group. They weren’t musicians, they merely grouped together rocks. So, while he was hanging out with his stone-age buddies (Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix), Jim says, “Come on, BamBam, light my fire.” After which, Jimi said, “Hey man, let me stand next to your fire.” Unfortunately, BamBam didn’t realize that someone had sold him some bad Pennsylvania shale – and we all know that that stuff is filled with dangerous levels of natural gas, right? Within just a few seconds, BamBam had invented “Pop Rocks”.
So, fast forward to the American Revolution and we can track the modern hobby of blowing stuff up with firecrackers to Paul Revere. When Paul’s Minutemen would go on break, he would fill their muskets with popcorn kernels he had purchased from Squanto. Then, in 1777, during the brutal winter down at the Battle of Daytona Beach, temperatures plummeted down to the upper ‘50’s while our troops suffered. So, to stay warm, the Minutemen had to build campfires right there on the sands of the beach. One night, someone accidentally threw a stick of dynamite into the fire ring along with a new log, and instead of singing Kumbaya around the campfire, they were singing “Kaboom-Bye-Y’all!”