Aug22 |
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The World May Be Free To Rock In, But Parking Is Not
“Okay, parking, parking, what would be a good lead for a story about parking… hmm… euphemism for car sex? Nah, not in the Inquirer! Wait, a music reference! Yes, that’s it. Well, let’s see, the story’s about the Philadelphia Parking Authority’s new overnight ticketing of people in front of hyrdrants, in fire zones, et cetera. “The Cars? ‘More parking enforcement is just what the city needed!’ Nah, that’s too on-point. How about Gary Numan? ‘Here in my car, I can get ticketed for parking, in front of a fire hydrant, even at four a.m. … in cars!’ No, no, that’s too long. Paradise by the dashboard light featuring Phil Rizzuto? “Wait, I got it!”
Over at 14th Windiest State, RJ came up with a mini-contest: Come up with your best alterna-lead for the story, using other Neil Young song titles. Buffalo Springfield and CSNY count, too, which is nice, because then I can use “Stop, hey! What’s that sound? Your car is headed to the impound!” Ticketing on four-way street [14th Windiest State] |
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The best opening would have involved Alycia Lane wearing a bikini.
Okay, I have another one.
**
“Let’s roll,” said the Philadelphia Parking Authority employee. And the PPA went out, ready to write tickets for cars parked in front of fire hydrants overnight.
Here’s a better one:
**
Alycia Lane donned her bikini at the butt-crack of dawn, ready for begin writing tickets for the Philadelphia Parking Authority. “I’m ready to screw city motorists,” she said with a smile as she headed out the door.
How about:
**
Shakey.
That’s what parking scofflaws will be when they realize the Philadelphia Parking Authority is working the third shift.
[Thou art] a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, the owner of no one good quality.
Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.
You live in the rank sweat of an enseamed bed,
Stew’d in corruption, honeying and making love over the nasty sty!
The making love and doing the nasty part doesn’t sound so bad…
You speak an infinite deal of nothing
Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth