It's a car...friggin act like it...

[wab]

I had a weird day today...it started with my trip to work where I saw a lot of weird shit on my drive in, and then the mess in the common area in my office (more on that later).

I hate when people treat their cars like an extension of their homes. I really pisses me off.

Long, long ago in a land far, far away, a young boy wearing only a red baseball cap came up with the genius idea of cars. He drew up conceptual pictures, slept with corporate executives to persuade them into investing in his dream and sold off his entire family so he could turn his own house into the first ever automobile factory. Who was this young man of brilliance? His name was Henry fuckin' Ford, that's who! Regardless of what you may have learned in grade school, or via the History channel, when Ford first devised the car, he not only did it to have a private area to masturbate and snort meth off some strippers rack, but he wanted a thrifty way for the townspeople to travel from point A to point B, plain and simple. For years, people used the vehicle to drive around town, taking care of their day-to-day errands. The only extra curricular activity that took place in the car besides driving would be the occasional session of awkward intercourse at the local park-and-poke. Its a shame that the times have indeed changed. Now autos are used for just about everything, except driving...which has pretty much taken a back seat. In case you were wondering, this is the part where you laugh at my poorly placed pun, thanks.

Your car is not a bathroom. I don't know how late for work you people are that you insist on doing your morning grooming duties in your front seat while you are barreling down the roadway, rather than in the comfort of your tiled lavatory, but it needs to stop. This morning on my way to occupation land, I was behind a car going 12 miles under the speed limit on the expressway. Of course, I was intrigued at to what monstrosity must be causing this individual to refrain from corresponding with the regulatory momentum recommendation, so I pulled up along side to take a gander into the driver side window. What did I see? A lady with her visor down, mirror open, plucking her God damned eyebrows. What the shit is that about? She's not only making me late, but she's gambling with the chance of fatally colliding with a school bus full of mentally defective children.

Your car is not a library. How can you possibly see a benefit in reading the newspaper during your motored migration? I have enough trouble remembering what I just read when I'm skimming a periodical in the safety of my can, so I don't see how you can retain information from a vestibule of quality literature when you are looking back at the road every other second to make sure you haven't gone of course and into the geriatric depths of a nearby Bakers Square. Can't you just wait until your lunch break this afternoon to find out how expensive gasoline prices are or how rich Tiger Woods is? Better yet, why don't you flip your radio to the AM side and lend an ear to the vocalized news station. That way you can keep your eyes on your surroundings and your hands on your fur covered steering wheel. If my recommendation still doesn't sway you from poor judgment, then try reading "Suicide for Dummies" while engaged in your expedition. I believe we are all here to serve some sort of purpose, and your point of being a fucking idiot has already been achieved, So go right ahead and do a barrel roll over the median and head on into the "Little Debby" delivery truck. I'll be sure to read about you in the newspaper obituary section on my drive to work tomorrow.

It's also not a fucking Bob Evans. I saw a guy a while back sitting at a stop light eating a bowl of cheerios. I don't even know what to say. I could see toast. A pop tart. Even a sumbitchin' toaster strudel, even with the frosting getting all over everything. But a bowl of fucking cheerios?!? What the shit. I can't see the thought process of some jackass sitting in his kitchen getting ready for work and instead of grabbing a nutra-grain bar, he reaches for the General Mills box in the pantry and pours out a bowl of cereal. Then he has to get the milk. And THEN he feels it fucking portable like a Taco Bell quesadilla. What an asshole.

Now...I will probably be scorned for this, but your car is not a phone booth. OK, I know it's next to impossible these days to drive a mile without making a call. Shit, whenever I look at my car I unsheathe my phone from it's bandoleer purely out of habit. What upsets me are the people who flap their jaws and "throw out" the obvious notion that they are simultaneously piloting a 3500 lb powerhouse. Sure, its all well and good to let your mind wander while you are talking to your BFF about last nights episode of "Dancing with the Stars", but you should try to be sympathetic of the feeling of shear horror that the person in front of you at the stop light is experiencing as they watch your Toyota Camry rapidly approach their rear view mirror like a fucking Tsunami. If you can't do two things at once, than stick to the phone and ditch the car. There is no excuse for aborting sensibility just because your "celly" sounds off. If you can't help it, than you are obviously "special" and belong in a white room, wearing Velcro underwear, watching cartoons and eating a large bowl of glue. Grow up and drive like an adult or invest in a nerdy Bluetooth headset like me, cause the next time I see you swerving across lanes, coming close to collision or slugging along just cause you are in mid cellular conversation, I'm going to pay a Verizon employee, of larger carriage, to stick a pool cue in your pee hole and give the rest of your immediate family golden showers. Hopefully, your sore genitals and the stench of urine emanating for your loved ones will remind you to drive responsibly, you fucking asshole.

[gaba]

There is absolutely nothing so important that you can't pull off into the nearest parking lot to take care of.

Maybe our cars wouldn't cost so f*&king much if they didn't have to be so packed full of safety features to protect us from the rest of the idiots on the road. Maybe someone a little older can tell me... was it just an epidemic of death in the '50s? Did you all just sit around waiting to hear who had died on the way into work? Were the roads stained with blood?

When I was a kid we ran loose in the back of the station wagon. Seatbelts were something we used if we were acting up and needed to be restrained. I survived it somehow. Now we've got to strap everyone in with at least 6 belts, 20 airbags, crumple zones, impact absorbing bumpers, helmets, neck braces... race car drivers and fighter pilots 50 years ago didn't use as much safety equipment as I use to get a quarter-mile to the store.

That's not to say I would ever drive anywhere without my kids securely strapped into their car-seats, but it's because the other f*&king people on the road don't give a F*&K about what's going on around them.