Under The Influence Of Acute Stupidity

It’s just human nature. Anytime somebody does something unnecessarily dangerous, bizarre, weird in a wacky way or anything that seems patently, absurdly stupid, we kinda tend to think he must have been “under the influence of” something — especially if it reflects such a bone-deep level of stupidity that it would lead us to ask, “How could this person have lived and breathed to adulthood — and still be this dumb?” Here’s an example:
Deputies didn’t ask how this 66-year-old man ever lived to that age — they only knew that he wasn’t intoxicated or in a drug-daze when he tried a unique approach to loosening a lug nut on his Lincoln Continental. The unnamed man had been working on his ride at home, about 10 miles from Seattle, and had removed all but one lug nut off the right rear wheel. Naturally — wouldn’t you try this? — he fetched his trusty 12-gauge shotgun, stood away at about arm’s length and blasted it!

The man was liberally peppered with buckshot and miscellaneous metallic debris from his feet to his chin, resulting in severe but not life-threatening wounds. Apparently his stance and the position of a fender prevented shot from hitting his face and eyes. Deputies scooped him up and rushed him to Tacoma General Hospital, where they insisted on drug and alcohol tests, which proved negative. The lug nut, by the way, was still frozen solidly in place. Which, we can clearly state, was also the condition of his frontal lobe functions.

Harsh Conditions

Will you take dentures for collateral? You might not, but Robert Henry Stahl does, or did, anyway. He was sort of in the loan business.

A dude named Billie Townsend apparently owed Stahl some money, and met him at a bar in Yorktown, Ind., to work out a deal. Seems like negotiations didn’t proceed very smoothly though. The 62-year-old Stahl took Townsend for a walk outside and commenced whoppin’ him like Tony Galento’s punching bag. Then he grabbed Townsend in a headlock, reached into his mouth and yanked out his dentures.

“He said, ‘You ain’t getting these back,’” Townsend told police. Stahl was charged with robbery and battery and possibly, poor customer service.

No Easy Mark

With fists like those, who needs a gun? At least, that’s what we’re bettin’ 27-year-old ex-pickpocket Jesse Daniel Rae is thinking. He might also be reconsidering his mental image of “an easy mark.”

That’s how he saw 72-year-old Bill Barnes when he spotted the seasoned citizen in a gas station convenience store near Grand Rapids, Mich. Barnes had just pulled a wad of cash out of an ATM, purchased a $2 lottery ticket and shoved the remainder of the $300 into the left-front pocket of his shorts. That’s when Jesse slid up — and screwed up, big time.

The instant Bill felt a hand stealthily slippin’ into that pocket, he seized Jesse’s wrist in an iron grip with his left hand and commenced launching rapid-fire jackhammer punches with his right. At 72, he likes his punching targets to remain within optimum range and not have to chase ’em. The result?

“There was blood everywhere,” store manager Abby Ostrom told reporters. Another employee jumped in and slammed Jesse to the deck, probably saving him from further injury at the hands of Battlin’ Bill, who told police, “I guess I acted on instinct.” We think those were some refined instincts. Jesse messed with the wrong guy.

Barnes was a regional runner-up in Golden Gloves boxing competition in both the novice and open-class divisions before he enlisted in the Marines in 1956. After service as a Leatherneck, he squeezed steel as an ironworker for over 20 years before retirement. And, Barnes admitted, he had a sorta special motivation not to let some bad guy grab his bucks.

“I wouldn’t want my wife to give me hell for lettin’ that guy get my money,” he told officers, smiling.

After being pummeled into pudding by a guy nearly three times his age, Jesse is lookin’ at 15 years in the joint for felony unarmed robbery. We’re betting that if Jesse gets out at age 42, an 87-year-old Barnes could still kick his butt in a stand-up fight.

First Church Of Snooze

Police in Rosenberg, Texas, were a bit surprised when a day care center staffer at St. John’s United Church of Christ called one early morning and asked if officers could come by, wake up and haul away a snoring drunk burglar. When police arrived, they found a guy passed out with an empty communion wine bottle at his side.

Charlie Chug-a-Lug had broken into the church hoping to score some cash from the office. People give donations in U.S. currency, not plastic, right? A fair presumption, but he couldn’t find the office. So naturally, he began peeling paneling off the walls looking for it.

This strenuous activity plumb tuckered the lad out — and made him fiercely hungry, too. He stepped into the kitchen, made a big mess and an even bigger sandwich, grabbed a jug of communion claret out of a cabinet, and sank into a comfy sofa. You can guess the rest: He liked the wine a little too much. And it wasn’t even imported.

Oh, That Hurts!

Remember when Mom told you never to run with scissors, pencils or other sharp pointy things in your hand? And you were smart enough to figure out that meant you shouldn’t run with sharp-stickers in your shorts, either? An unnamed dude in Grand Rapids, Mich., didn’t log that lecture, it seems.

Police say Einstein Jr. was pretending to check out several hunting knives at Meijer’s on East Beltline when he suddenly scooped ’em up, stuffed ’em down his pants — apparently with some pointing up, some pointing down, and all without sheaths, no less — and hoofed it for the front door. He had almost made it when alert employees put the grab on him and a shirt-rippin’ party commenced.

Knifey-Boy almost broke loose. Well, he broke just loose enough to spin, stumble and fall, and that was the end of his crime spree. An ambulance hauled him from that exact spot to a hospital, where he went right into surgery for treatment of multiple stab wounds.

That Tattoo Is So You

The saga begins in Framingham, Mass., with Middlesex County Sheriff’s deputies serving warrants on 19-year-old Justin Breakspear. No big deal, and had he simply stepped out his door, he prob’ly woulda made bail on a couple of misdemeanors and been home for dinner. But no, Justin had to run and hide in the basement — you know, a basement with no exit or possible escape route. Smart, huh?

While draggin’ Justin outta the cellar, deputies spotted two sawed-off shotguns and a .380 pistol in plain view. They called Framingham PD to get a warrant for the guns and come join the party. From the start, Justin vehemently denied possessing those guns, pointing out the basement is a “common area” with free access to any apartment-dweller in the building, and those guns could belong to anyone. Sounds like his last defense attorney coached him, right? And that “common area access” issue has gotten tons of charges tossed out for piles of perpetrators. Not Justin, though.

An officer noticed with a start that although Justin had been patted down for weapons, he appeared to have a pistol stuck in his pants. Examination revealed it to be a highly detailed tattoo of a .380 pistol, inked on his abdomen so it looked like it was shoved in his shorts. Then officers looked at the tattoo even closer. Hey! Not only did the tattoo depict the very same make and model as the .380 Justin claimed not to know anything about, but the tattooed pistol even bore serial numbers — which matched the serial numbers of the seized pistol.