ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Wednesday, November 20, 1996 TAG: 9611200017
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: BEN BEAGLE
SOURCE: BEN BEAGLE
This morning I'm announcing the revival of Malletheads Inc., a private club for totally inept people who are dangers to themselves as well as being out of step with time and reality.
Some of you may recall that I formed the first Malletheads club some time ago, but it flopped because I was too incompetent and lazy to hold it together.
I'll probably mess everything up again, but I thought I'd give you some idea of what it takes be a real Mallethead.
For example, if you can't get on and off escalators without tripping and giving the impression you're drunk at 11 a.m. you're a prime prospect.
You've got Mallethead genes if you buy one of those little electric compressors with names like Mr. Service Station so you can check tire pressures and add air right there in your own driveway.
Then, you become obsessed with the notion that if you use it it's going to blow up and you hide it in the kitchen pantry.
You're prime Mallethead material if you bought this thing to avoid the pump down at the convenience store because (a) you thought people would laugh when you tried to use it and (b) you were afraid it was going to blow up.
You're the type who spills 60 cents worth of gasoline down the side of your car at the self-service pump - which sometimes refuses to pump as it should.
You don't use full-service pumps anywhere because Malletheads usually don't have that kind of money.
You're the type who gets a free sample of a certain wipe-on deodorant and can't figure out how the little wheel on the bottom works. This is the reason Malletheads use roll-on deodorant or none at all.
You'd rather be drafted again than use one of those banking machines that give you money if you're athletic enough to push the right buttons.
You're afraid they're going to blow up or give you somebody's else's money and then call the cops.
You think flesh-and-blood bank tellers, with hands that count money, are bastions of humanity in a push-button world. Tellers think next to nothing of Malletheads.
Sign up now.
There won't be any dues because we won't be able to find anybody smart enough to keep books.
Oh, just one thing: Drop me a line instead of phoning if you're interested in joining.
I don't like phone calls because I'm always afraid the battery in the cordless job is going to die and maybe blow up.
LENGTH: Medium: 53 linesby CNB