There are very few things to be relieved about when you are a few (translation: more than a few) pounds overweight. There is also some joy of not being completely competitive.

Some joy in being somewhat of a passive aggressive slacker.

One of these particular moments in time and space when realizing that my overweight ass might live longer than those who are ripped cut and being competitive at the same time is the horrible instance of the professional cyclists who were tragically run down on a winding street in Cupertino California by a Sheriff's officer (out of all people) who fell asleep behind his wheel, ran across the center line...past the bike lane and killed two of them, with one in stable condition at Stanford University.

First thought: Holy hell that is horrible!
Second thought: Thank god I'm fat and would have never made it up those hills. I would have died from a heart attack before that sound asleep Sheriff's deputy got to my wheezy ass.

There is some run off from this idea of being a passive aggressive slacker. When I die I will be in complete and joyous harmony if it ever gets published in The San Francisco Chronicle and the ensuing "comments section". I fully expect somebody going "Well sure. I can see Ms. Landry chocking on a chicken bone" or..."She was the queen of trying to stop smoking" or "I can't believe she lasted that long without having that stroke"

You will never see people wax pundit on changing laws about smoking. Or mixing birth control with a gin and tonic in a pint glass. Or asking for a universal law to ban Chicken Bones. They already knew how I would probably bite it.

What you DO get though when you are young, vibrant, competitive and doing the right thing for yourself, and something tragic happens to you? Somehow your life gets put under a spotlight and then...the incredibleness of having your death that was not your fault in any way shape or form be "Scrutinized as your fault"

Reading the comment section on sfgate is like a walk on the surreal side. A nice cross of clueless, oblivious and just downright glory of human ignorance...all for the sake of getting *an agenda out*.

And all for the sake of looking insane because they did not really read the story.

Some fantastic "Selective Reading" occurs. It is as though some just read "Bike. Car. Sheriff. Hit. Death." and pretty much filled in their own blanks from there.

"Cars and bikes do not mix! Bikes should not be on the road! Why can't they do what they do in Europe and get bike lanes" cries one comment poster on the story

Apparently this person read just the "Bike/Car" portion of the article and did not read that the Cupertino road they were on had a bike lane. Just like Europe.

"My boyfriend is a sheriff!! Do you know how some are these bikers are! How do we KNOW if this Sheriff fell asleep!" bemoans one poster who has seemed to have made herself the authority of the only word she read in the article: "Sheriff"

Never mind the fact that the article itself has this poor unfortunate Sheriff at the scene telling everyone he was asleep behind the wheel and that "His life and career is over" only for counsel to finally come to tell him he might wish to stop talking for a while.

Forget the idea that she is using an argument that she is an authority of The Sheriff's department because she happens to be giving the high one to an officer of the law. It is like me getting onto a 007 message board and announcing I know everything about James Bond because I once slept with the look alike/stunt double to Pierce Bronson (I did. yeah. My fat ass could not believe it EITHER)

It is the idea that she has come to a place that people are giving condolences to the people who were following the law and having a biking in a designated lane....to drop agenda and heavy handedly hint that these professional cyclists (not SF bike messengers, mind you) might have been "In the wrong"

Seems pretty cut and dry to me: Sheriff is sleepy. Sheriff turns car into dangerous killing machine ...rides a lane into bike lane. Kills two in process. Smashes car into brush. Realizes life and career is over while in shock. Wants to try to help. Told to stay away and shut up by counsel. Newspaper comes. Takes pictures. Prints story and pictures in newspaper. Slaps up Internet Comments. Stupid posters who can't read with agenda appears. Landry gets angry. Skin turns green and clothes tear off in the *right places*. Hulk Smash!

Meanwhile two young, vibrant body fit and competitive people are dead, while my slacker aggressive overweight ass turns into The Hulk for them in death. At the computer with a cup of coffee filled more with half and half with an ashtray filled with butts.

I'm still alive to write this. And that alone in a lot of ways is completely unfair as a lazy passive aggressive slacker. Sometimes and tragically being a lazy fat ass can save your life when complete "Life Accidents" happen.

That is of course if a sleepy San Francisco Police Officer comes careening into my home taking me, my coffee and my ashtray full of butts out.

Then just maybe I will be amateur pundit talk when they report my death in The Chronicle:

See! Apartments and Cars don't mix!
I once gave oral sex to a police officer! Let me tell you ...I know EVERYTHING about how hard it is for them to avoid hitting apartments!

Gee. I hope I die that way.

My love and condelences to the family of Kristy Gough, of San Leandro California and Matt Peterson of San Francisco.