Monday, October 18, 2004

To The Asshole Who Nearly Killed Me This Afternoon

Yes, you, you total piece of shit. Next time you decide to cross the street in your gigantic SUV at top speed maybe, just maybe you ought to stop READING SOMETHING IN YOUR LAP WHILE YOU CROSS FOUR LANES OF TRAFFIC and maybe you won't come within feet of t-boning a mother of a young baby in her small fuel-efficient car, and she won't have to pound on the gas pedal and pray her four cylinders are enough as she looks out her side window at the grill of your ugly vehicle coming right towards her head as if she wasn't there at all. This is not an exaggeration, you fucking moron. You aren't driving a Festiva, you're driving a piece of machinery that weighs three tons and you have to take responsibility for that.

Christ, I was sick all afternoon from the adrenaline.

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