Guilty...

...of being too fat.

-A Long Island music shop owner accused of selling knockoff Gibson Les Paul guitars has been arraigned in a pickup truck in a courthouse parking lot after his lawyer said the 500-pound defendant couldn't walk into the courthouse.
-State Supreme Court Justice Robert Doyle said the man's "severe weight problem" prompted the unusual proceeding Thursday in Riverhead.
-A defense lawyer also had given the court a doctor's letter saying the defendant suffers from osteoarthritis.
-The shopkeeper has been released without bail after pleading not guilty to trademark counterfeiting and criminal simulation. He says the case and health problems have forced him to close his store.
-He's accused of selling bogus Gibsons for $1,500 to buyers who thought they were far more valuable genuine versions of the classic electric guitar.

Now in case you are wondering what osteoarthritis is, here's a link. It's essentially arthritis brought on by being too fat. I have no idea why that sentence was included in the article. It's like "They had to hold court in the parking lot because the guy is so fat. His lawyer also had a doctor's note stating that he had health problems due to being so fat." I don't really get the point of mentioning that. You'd think it would be pretty safe to assume the guy is going to have issues stemming from his weight problem if he is too fat to enter the fucking courthouse. I also love that "the case" and health problems have caused him to close the store. I understand though, when I get stressed out by my trademark counterfeiting crimes, I make myself feel better with ice cream and pizza. Then I have someone fork-lift me onto my truck and head out for a hot date, instead of opening up my music store.

Anyway, I wonder what it looked like, and if people came by and heckled. Or if the judge hit something with his gavel - like a car or if he stayed in robe. Did they have little podium and everything or did they just like, stand around in the parking lot? I also imagine the scene with the music shop owner laying supine, mouth agape complaining about his osteoarthritis and having to wash himself with a rag on a stick.

But So Who's the Lucky Lady, Slim

When I'm preparing for a hot date, often the things I think to myself are "Is the forklift ready to get me out of the house?" and "Did I remember to rent a flatbed truck to get me and my bed to my date?" It seems I'm not alone in forgetting to think "Is my iron bed too tall to fit under that overpass?"

"But even the open road wasn't big enough to handle Uribe's dream of celebrating a budding romance and his success in losing about 440 pounds."

Now, if you're like me, right now you are wondering how a 1200 pound man confined to a special made bed can even plant the romantic seeds that could lead to any kind of buds. But also if you're like me, you're missing most of your teeth and pee in a jar, so who are you to judge.

The good news is that Manuel has lost 400 pounds. The bad news is that if he were too look down ever so slightly, he'd see about 800 pounds and probably never even notice those 400 that went missing.

Also, if a mariachi band ever played celebratory music just for me being forklifted out of my own house, I'd know it was time to end it all... or maybe, just maybe...it was actually time to meet a hot babe for drinks and din-din and possibly some lovin? (After the logistics of not killing your partner were properly hashed out, of course)

The guy seems nice and has been trying to get help and slim down for years now, so I won't say anything mean or make any jokes about the accident. [this was the first sentence I wrote. funny how fast things change]


Manuel Uribe's site