Six Feet Under
That's My Dog

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Djb: F | 33 USERS: D+
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Someone Left The Crack Out In The Rain

From the Frank Stanton Studios in Los Angeles, this is Shark Jumping! David is listening to NPR on the radio. Awwww, I totally love the Marketplace theme song. It's not nearly as catchy and wonderful as the Fresh Air theme (which I'm actually sitting at my desk and singing out loud right now), but it's still filled with a certain reedy drive that allows me to listen to it with much gusto and then tune the hell out as soon as the stock news starts. Our top story today: David gets violently abused for an absurd period of hours. First, the news.

David drives by a red -- what is that, a Camaro? -- parked under a bridge. Standing next to it is a gentleman of as-yet-indeterminate age, who doesn't even have the human decency to hold up the international thumb of hitchhiking, which clearly means he loves crack. David drives by with a long look at the guy, and when he sees the young gentlemen flash a peace sign in his rearview mirror, he thinks, "The dude loves peace! And everybody knows that blowjobs are peaceful, so maybe he loves those, too!" He clicks on his right blinker as any self-respecting NPR listening, dead-cargo-toting, Angeleno would, and pulls over. The guy grabs a bag off the top of the car and runs toward the van, and it fazes me that, considering David's usual gift for exceedingly obvious foreshadowing this season, this would actually be as good a time as any for him to start thinking about escaping.

The gentleman reaches the car, and he's totally Jimmy Fallon. Except shorter. And not quite as pretty. And probably funnier than Jimmy Fallon in real life. He's...Jimmy Felon? How do we feel about that nickname? Let's figure it out and see how it works going forward. David cranks down the passenger-side window -- man, that thing NEEDS to be stolen so he can upgrade -- and Jimmy thanks him for stopping, explaining, "Ran out of gas. I know. So lame." The lameness has not yet even begun, young doppelganger. David sympathizes that "it's happened to all of us at least once." It has never happened to me, and I've had my license for ten years and I've driven cross-country eight times. Gas is actually measured by a gauge that, if you are a sighted person, you cannot NOT see when you look at your dashboard. When that gauge is low...I usually just fill up, using gas. Or risk hearing my mother's advice from the day I got my license: "The first thing is: don't try and beat any big trucks. The second thing is: if you run out of gas, you're an idiot." Thanks, Mom.

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Six Feet Under

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