Battle of Wits or Was That Twit

As this weekend of major events winds down, I actually am Glad I missed Togus,Windham, Cherryfield & Harrison. Fryeburg was busy with hotrod stuff and we left early enough to miss any torrents of wet shit. Oh we got wet but it was a Half mile of drench and we dried off by Naples.

Today was the Piscataquis Cruise In in Dover-Foxcroft with a smaller than usual turn out due to some rather inclimate weather early in the crack of dark regions of morning.

But it wasn't the drive or the event but the people that made the weekend. Good people from all walks of life including a  political ally, a douche bag, the Right Reverend Fudgewhistle and his newest minion the Deacon Dingleberry.

The political ally is a State Senator from Northern Maine whom I met while being a troll under the bridge during some legislation in our last session. He happens to be a car guy and actually spews words out of his mouth, not fecal vomit like most of the others. It was good to touch base and state our collective opinions on the upcoming changes to the Maine Motor Vehicle Safety Inspection Manual that take effect on July 20th of this year.

The Douche Bag shall remain forever nameless and a douche bag as he continually interrupted our conversation and virtually told both of us we didn't have a clue what we were talking about until he found out our credentials from a couple of other sources and left in a huff.

Now as this Cruise In is in the Rev. Fudgewhistles back yard, I expected to see him. But his late arrival had me engaged with a follower of his sermon of the Title 457. We discussed this very briefly until he said I was wrong in saying that street rods are required to have State Inspection stickers. Believe me that was the fastest deterioration of a conversation in history. After telling the Deacon to walk away 4 times, he was still running his mouth. This is where I found out he is originally from Massholevania and moved here in his retirement.

After stating to me that if he was my age he would take me out behind the fence, I asked him if he was named Sandusky, only to get that look and the response huh, I knew at that point I was loosing a battle of wits with an unarmed man. Then the little voice in my head screams at me to never argue with a moron as the crowd can't tell the parties apart from each other.

The point at which he said he had the right to state his opinion is where I stated loud and clear that he was correct, but in turn that gave me the right to tell him in terms that he could understand, to shut the fuck up.

He walked away to spread the word that I was in fact an Asshole only to be told by more than he was willing to accept that I was correct in saying that Street Rods are required to get a State Inspection. I may be an Asshole but I am a Correct Asshole. Not a perfect Asshole just a Correct one.

The Reverend finally showed up and the Deacon went and pointed and stomped and I think he may have even gotten weepy. I approached the Rev. Fudgewhistle to be greeted with a handshake a conversation and a how have you been. We then kibitzed for period and parted ways with the Deacon Dingleberry wondering who the fuck is Sandusky.

Gotta love that