Reply #1: My older brother...

[MiddleFingerMom]

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...during the late 1960's and with hair down to his ass, no less --
was visiting a friend in Chicago and was pulled over for rolling
through a stop sign.
.
With his friend in the passenger seat, he proceeded to give the
officer a fairly tough time... but he simply kept his poise, gave
my brother his ticket, and moved on.
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His friend was incredulous. He told my brother that they had just
encountered the ONLY cop in Chicago during that era that chose to
refrain from pulling my brother (and perhaps his friend) out of
his van and doing a major Skittles number on his ass.
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Me... I was driving a friend's car and I was taking her to an
ENORMOUS Amish farmer's market about 20 miles NW of Philadelphia
when we got pulled over in farm country. A lot of the cars in my
friend's neighborhood had been splashed by vandals with white
paing, and my friend's back license plate had been partially
obscured (the reason for us getting stopped).
.
HOT day. Cop sweating profusely in his heavy uniform. The local
farmers had VERY evidently sprayed their fields with a manure
slurry. As the officer is standing beside me checking out the
registration, my friend innocently (seriously) asks, "Does it smell
like pigshit to you?"
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My heart sank. I knew... I KNEW that I, not my friend, that I
would be going to jail now.
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He either didn't hear her (VERY doubtful) or understood or
chose to ignore it. Not even a ticket.
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When I told my friend that she could have asked about cow
shit or fish shit or even HER shit -- ANYTHING but what she
asked about -- she almost choked trying to apologize while
laughing her ass off.
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She was , you see, very fucking funny like that.
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