dennisjudd.com

Yes, you. You sick fucker. On Wednesday morning I
emerged from my girlfriend’s building by U.N. Plaza to
find that you had sawed the tops off both the
sparkplugs on my motorcycle. At the time, I had no
idea why anyone would do that. Other than the
sparkplugs, the bike was untouched. Some kind of
bizarre vandalism? A fraternity prank gone awry? I had
no idea. All I knew is that I looked like a huge
douchebag riding the Muni to work in a padded
motorcycle jacket and helmet.
Because the bike was immobilized I got a $35 street
sweeping ticket that night. Thursday I had it towed to
the shop ($45) where they replaced the sparkplugs and
the boots ($50 including labor). They explained to me
that “people” – I use the term loosely here – like you
break off the tops of spark plugs and use the
porcelain tubes to smoke crack. As an engineer and
former MacGyver fan, in a way I think this is kind of
cool. But then I remember that I just paid $100 for
YOUR crackpipes, and I get angry again.
Crackhead, it was really good to have my bike back
though. I rode home from the shop with a couple of
spare sparkplugs and a smile on my face. I figured the
next time I parked at my girlfriend’s place overnight
I would have to buy some crackpipes and tape them to
my bike as a peace offering. Overall, I wasn’t that
upset. Despite having to ride the bus for three days
and dropping a hundred bones at the shop, I had gained
some fascinating knowledge, a new set of sparkplugs,
and a pretty funny anecdote about how fucked up you
are, and how our paths once crossed briefly in the
night.
But you couldn’t just let sleeping dogs lie, could you
Crackhead. You couldn’t just stay in on Friday, watch
Letterman through the window of a home electronics
store and then call it a night. You couldn’t rest on
your laurels. Two porcelain sparkplug crackpipes just
wasn’t enough for you, was it Crackhead? You just had
to come back for more.
This morning, a scant fifteen hours after I rode it
out of the shop, I found my motorcycle violated once
again. This time you only took the right one – maybe
you were having an off night. At least this time I had
a spare sparkplug and the tools to fix it – or so I
thought – having ordered a 73-piece toolset from
SEARS.com last week. But no, the sparkplug socket in
my new toolset was for American sparkplugs. So I had
to go down to the neighborhood Ace hardware. They had
an 18mm socket that would fit over my sparkplug, but
it was for a 1/2″ drive ratchet. My toolkit only has
1/4″ and 3/8″ ratchets. So I had to buy a 1/2″ ratchet
along with the socket. Even though the clerk took pity
on me and gave me the senior citizen discount (I’m 25)
it still cost me $22 all told. Now, you might say that
I should have just gotten a 3/8″-to-1/2″ drive adaptor
instead of springing for the whole ratchet. And to
that I say “Shut the hell up, Crackhead, I’m not
finished. And besides, I was eventually going to buy a
1/2″ ratchet anyway so it’s probably not worth it to
take it back now.”
OK, now I’m rambling. But the point is, Crackhead,
that you have done me wrong. Now, I get that you love
crack. That is totally understandable. I’ve heard it
is really fun, at first, and quite addictive. What I
don’t understand is,
YOU ARE A CRACKHEAD. WHY DON’T YOU OWN A CRACKPIPE?
I am an engineer. Do you ever see me shaking down bums
in the Loin for a calculator and sliderule? No, you
don’t. Because engineering is the main thing I do, I
went and bought myself a calculator. The main thing
you do is crack. How do you get by without a
crackpipe? The other crackheads must clown on you
non-stop. I mean, the fucking saw you used to saw off
my sparkplugs is probably worth five or ten bucks. Why
not sell or trade it for a crackpipe? You really
haven’t put much thought into this, have you?
Please, Crackhead, please don’t tell me you sold your
crackpipe to buy crack. Even a stupid crackhead such
as yourself couldn’t possibly be that stupid.
I’ve decided that taping crackpipes to my motorcycle
would be tantamount to appeasement. You have crossed a
line, Crackhead – specifically California Street. You
have come onto my own street and you have desecrated
that which I hold dear. You have stolen from me, and
you have caused me to spend the last half hour writing
this post instead of engineering shit, and it is
concievable, if not likely, that my boss could find
out about this and fire me. I am hella pissed at you
dude.
Here are my options as I see them:
1. Write a note saying that I have coated both of my
sparkplugs in rat poison and tape it to my bike at
night. You can thank Tim for that one, it was his
idea.
2. Don’t write a note, but just coat both sparkplugs
in rat poison. This is probably closer to a punishment
that would fit your despicable crime. I’m sure this is
super illegal and shit, but it’s not like anyone is
going to miss you, Crackhead. Don’t fool yourself.
3. Wait in an alley near my bike armed with my new
stainless steel mirror-finish Ace Professional brand
1/2″ drive socket wrench, my 18mm sparkplug socket,
and my searing rage. It’s pretty heavy and well
balanced. I am not a large man, but I am angry.
In conclusion, Crackhead, why don’t you just do both
of us a favor and buy yourself a crackpipe? It will
both enhance your crack smoking experience and save me
a lot of time and felony assault charges. Think about
it.
Sincerely,
Matt

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