Hang Ups

Claude Cramp teaches an intensive course in urban driving skills to rich bitches.

Jaron:  As a former employee of the Department of Motor Vehicles, do you enjoy your job?

Mr. Cramp:  I love it. I specialize in helping the rich hone their driving skills. They are at the highest risk.

Jaron:  Because they drive like they own the roads in their huge off-road urban assault vehicles. They are arrogant and selfish, cutting in and out of traffic. Insensitive swines.

Mr. Cramp:  An unfortunate stereotype. Most of the rich and privileged are extremely sensitive, often too polite for their own good.

Jaron:  What about Donna Rich who mowed down six people with her Hummer in Beverly Hills?

Mr. Cramp:  A perfect example. I worked with Mrs. Rich after she was detained for vehicular manslaughter.

Jaron:  Manslaughter? Get off it! She was talking to her hairdresser on her cell phone when she ran a red light and killed two Girl Scouts, a rabbi, a Catholic priest and a pair of Mormon missionaries.

Mr. Cramp:  The Rich Foundation paid for part of their funeral expenses. Donna Rich was simply too cultured and timid for her own good. The accident was not her fault.

Jaron:  She ran a red light. She killed six people. Sounds like she was to blame.

Mr. Cramp:  Many people were to blame. Her parents. Her teachers. Society in general. They all helped to condition Donna to behave politely on the phone. I had to reeducate her.

Jaron:  You said your job was to hone your clients’ driving skills.

Mr. Cramp:  Exactly. Having worked for the Department of Motor Vehicles I know how to hang up on people. Or leave them on hold. Or interrupt them and switch them to dead lines.

Jaron:  How does that help anyone become a better driver?

Mr. Cramp:  The reason people like Donna Rich suffer traffic mishaps is because they don’t know how to terminate cell phone conversations. They’re far too cultured. Once they learn how to hang up their cell phones, you know, become a little nastier, they can focus on driving. And that saves lives. Oh, my pager. Have to go.

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