So, you've given a ride to a hitchhiking drifter on a desolate highway and now you're pretty sure he's a serial killer. Here's what you do.

Talking Points with Tom Scheve

First off, if you've made the common mistake of putting a drifter who you now suspect may be a serial killer in the front passenger seat of your car during a drive through the middle of nowhere, for the love of God, DO NOT attempt to drive to a well-lit populated area or else it will likely be curtains for you.

The best thing you can do to ensure your well-being is to (1) begin addressing him as "Cousin" (i.e. "You got a way about you, Cousin, make me get to wondering that you might be one of those serial killers who would kill me as soon as I started showing signs of looking for a well-lit populated area to drop you off at if it wasn't for the fact that you're just an innocent stone-cold silent drifter with a thousand-mile stare.") and (2) quickly pick up another hitchhiking drifter as soon as possible.

Ask drifter #2 (who's in the backseat) where he's going, tell him you'll take him as far as you can but DON'T let on that the guy next to you is also a random drifter/possible serial killer you just picked up minutes beforehand.

Any attempt by Drifter #2 to make small-talk should be met with a gesture toward the serial killer next to you and something like, "Cousin here knows I like to do all the talking so just sit back, enjoy the ride, and remain completely silent unless you're telling me to stop and let you out."

Drifter #2 will believe the serial-killer-looking guy next to you who is your cousin also wants him to pipe down, when in reality it is more likely the case that the serial killing drifter sitting next to you would rather like to strike up a conversation with a fellow drifter such as Drifter #2 because when push comes to shove and someone's gotta' die, drifters need cars and you got one and every drifter knows that killing another drifter will only bag you another pair of rotten socks and having to hoof it around in rotten socks, be it one pair or two, is the whole problem in the first drifting place.

Now, it is imperative that you pick up a third hitchhiking drifter ASAP and give Drifter #3 the same treatment that #2 got. Drifter #3 will assume he's hitched a ride with some guy, his crazy looking cousin who's riding shotgun and their dirty friend sitting next to him in the back seat. He doesn't know what the fuck is what.

Right about now, Drifter #1 suddenly has two too many random drifters in the car to feel 100% confident that he's sharing a ride with two fellow drifters and not two of your elaborately deceptive friends engaged in a ruse the goal of which is to kill a serial killer. On the other hand, if all is in fact as it appears to be and there are indeed, including himself, three random drifters in your car, Drifter #1 is the only drifter who has a rock-solid perception that you have a curious compulsion for collecting loads of drifters off the side of desolate highways and this is going to make him consider the fact that, like him, you too are a serial killer and now the two of you are sitting pretty with a couple of unsuspecting well-behaved drifters sitting silently in the backseat just begging to be serial killed.

Drifter #2 can only be positive that there are two drifters, himself and Drifter #3, who he witnessed drifting along the side of the road from the then-spacious back seat, in addition to one definitely non-drifting car owner and his spooky serial-killer-looking cousin and nobody's allowed to talk. However, instead of attempting to enter into a state of cahoots with Drifter #4 next to him, Drifter #3 is going to follow all the rules because if this new asshole starts bucking the rules, begins jibber-jabbering and gets himself kicked out of the car, Drifter #3 would just as soon stay right where he is, cool his rotten socks and return to having the distinction of again being the only drifter in the back seat.

I haven't really worked it out in my head past this point. I'll let you know when I do.

Happy Holidays. Oh, and best of luck on getting all those drifters out of your car. Try not to get yourself serial killed in the process.





I don't want to be quick to cast judgment or not give somebody a fair chance to make a good impression, but there is a hole in the wall of my video booth, and somebody is looking through it a little longer than it should normally take to find out what's on the other side of that hole.

It's just me buddy, trying to hammer one down on my lunch break. Take a picture or blink or something because you're beginning to make me feel somewhat uncomfortable.

For my five bucks, I do not ask for much. I am aware of the market. The wooden stool is complimentary but inadvisable to sit upon. Pretty much, I can't touch anything at all but myself and the channel changer if absolutely necessary.

However, along with 22 thematically differently adult videos to choose from, I am paying for a private moment to share with myself. I could engage in this activity without spending money or leaving the comfort of my car or my cubicle (it has been completely forbidden in my house) but in doing so, I would risk losing my job or getting arrested or having Jenny from the HR department running her mouth about me to all the new-hires.

And yet here I am, in what I expected to be the most private environment anywhere and I'm having trouble wrapping things up because, lo and behold, there's a hole in the wall and somebody's with at least one green eye and a wheezing, hacking cough is staring right through it.

I could've taken my business anywhere but I chose Adult Superstore based on the recommendations of a man loitering about in front of the store. Ironically, I now suspect that very same man is now staring at me. If he were to put his ear next to that hole in the wall, I'd give him a piece of my mind.

Try as I may, I cannot ignore the presence of this rude individual and I'm feeling the onset of stage-fright. Additionally, the little trick I learned where I imagine the audience wearing nothing but their underwear isn't working for some reason.

Making matters worse, this individual is now asking me to go back to what we were watching before. Well, I never! OK, I'll turn the channel. But I would like to remind you that you have your own pornography-viewing device in your very own booth so I don't know why you insist on watching mine.

If I had something with which to plug this mouse-hole in the middle of the separating wall, believe you me, I would plug away.