Futility Test
Today I wanted to talk a little bit about police issued field sobriety tests. First off, I’ll go ahead and let you know that this exercise in inebriation sets up any person – whether drunk or sober – to fail from the get-go. Who in the hell has ever practiced any of these tasks in everyday life when you’re sober? Have you ever been to a friend’s house for dinner, and been asked to take 9 heel to toe steps up and back down a line? If you show more than 2 clues, you don’t get dessert. Horizontal Gaze Nystagmus sounds like you’re staring straight ahead at a gay male of a rare breed of Antelope. I guess you could also have a gazed donut, a/k/a sweet grease, if you had .50 cents and were in the write locale. I’ve never known anyone to get pulled over for a DUI in close proximity to a donut shop that was open. If what they say about cops is true, that would be the most purified distillation of the phrase “looking the other way” I ever heard of.
By the way, how in the hell does a donut shop make money exactly? You can go in and get multiple boxes of sweet grease along with a keg of chocolate milk, and at the most, you’ll have to part with up to $10 bucks if you really get extravagant. Donut makin’ folk have to get up at like two in the morning on Sunday for all those who are keen on both Jesus, and fried dough that is covered or filled with tasty goodness. Getting up that early in the morning and then charging like .75 cents for the most high end thing you make with all the options – icing, sprinkles and Bavarian cream in the center – just doesn’t seem profitable. I just don’t see how you can make a profit from floggin’ a product when the purchase price only requires that the purchaser be familiar with green paper containing the visage of either G.W., or Honest Abe. I’d think if you were working that much, you’d at least want to get up into Andrew Jackson territory.
Like Snoop Dogg once said, back to the lecture at hand. For those of you scoring at home, I’ve been through two of the three standardized field sobriety tests and now it is time to move onto the one leg stand. For most people, standing on one leg is only relevant when you’re being fitted for a prosthesis. You have two legs for a reason. They are both for running or standing on, while they are either simultaneously in motion or stationary. But let us digress further into the monikers involved in these here examinations. “Field” is an interesting term to use in a Children of the Corn type way. What type of field were these tests standardized for? If you can complete all of these tests in a soybean field, are you free to go? What if you only take 7 heel to toe steps and you happen to be in a corn field? Would the ability to shuck and silk an ear save you a trip to the pokey? Would failing mean you’ve had too much to drink, or were caught trespassing in an effort to obtain the most durable organic product on Earth? You know what I’m talking about. It doesn’t take David Blaine or Criss Angel to explain that strange fact of gastroinveginal fortitude.
To get back on topic like a concept album – which are always terrible because they inevitably contain some “moral” or heavy thoughts that the majority of us want to forget about while drinking and holding up our lighters, and screaming for “Freebird” no matter who’s show it is – the one leg stand is a test in which you are told to choose one of your legs. Of course, this assuming you’ve only got two. They don’t count, well, you know, if say you’re the star of Ripley’s Believe It or Not’s “The Three Legged Dance.” Then you’re told to hold said foot about approximately 6 inches off the ground, and count to 30 without using your arms for balance. This is like something people taking ballroom dancing lessons in a mine field would do. The only thing standardized thing about this test is that it’s standard for an officer to ask you to complete these stupid human tricks after they observe the requisite strong odor of alcoholic beverage, slurred speech or glassy and blood shot eyes. In other words, don’t drive if you’ve got a drinking problem a la Ted Striker, have been to the dentist or had issues with your contacts. Sure, that’s a lot of improbable factors that have to come together for that perfect storm to come to fruition, but stranger things have happened. John McCain once chose Tina Fey as a running mate. Stuart Smalley won a Senate seat in Minnesota. Conan The Republican is married to that Kennedy who resembles Skeletor, and he is still the governor of the highly flammable state known as California. Crazy shit goes down right in front of your peepers people. Jeepers.
