A Short Rant

I interrupt my normally scheduled blog to talk about people that piss me off. They piss you off too, you just might not know it yet, or even know they are classified. Now I'm not talking about just people in general; although on a daily basis if you see one (a person I mean) chances are if given the opportunity they could piss you off. Aside from the normal band of usual suspects IE: the exact change old lady in line in front of you at Wawa (I just want my fuckin' cup of coffee, sometimes I wanna throw a quarter at 'em and shout "Here, will this get you out of my way faster, Granny?"), or the lovely preppy couple out for a movie with their two darling children in line at the concession stand in front of you. Mom wants this, Dad wants that. Junior wants this, but Mom don't think he should have that, and their precious little girl stands at the counter with her finger in her mouth, head tilted and leg swinging. She's doing everything cute she can to make me hate her even more than I already do! And you know why? Because she won't say a fucking thing when Daddy asks her what she wants. Which causes him to read off the entire movie theatre menu to her. All the while I ain't no closer to the Jujube's and I'm missing the goddamn previews. Of course this all happens while either (A) there is no other line open or (B) the line I thought was going to move slower than the one I ended up in is now moving faster than a colon cancer patient after a nice big tall glass of prune juice.

All of the previously mentioned are bad, but I never do anything about it. Oh, maybe I sigh my displeasure or quietly whisper "Jesuschristcomeon!", but nothing dangerous, harmful, or otherwise illegal. The next group of people are treading on thin ice. It's happened to you. I know it's happened to you. I'll set the scene for you. You are in your car, driving through the parking lot of the mall (the grocery store, the porno shop, just down the road in general, you get the idea) and you come upon the crosswalk with the "Vehicles Must Stop For Pedestrians In The Crosswalk" sign. I don't have a problem doing that, I think that's a good law, or rule, whichever it is. I remember when this was not universally accepted and you took a chance walking in front of a car, maybe they will stop or maybe they won't. But it's okay by me, usually. All those handicapped parking spots in the front of the lot are a different story and one we can discuss another day, but for now let's go back to the fuck wits in the crosswalk, shall we? I slow down, occasionally I'll even stop, if they are old I pull out War and Piece cause this could take a while. Here are the rules. I'll say that again. Here are the goddamn rules. These are the rules for those of you, those of us, using the crosswalk:

1. Before you even think about entering the crosswalk, be sure you have all necessary preparations take care of before hand. Like all your kids with you. Don't let them stray out single file like I'm watching ducks cross the highway! Or your car keys. The middle of the crosswalk is not a good place to stop and dig inside that papoose you call a purse for your keys. Or even your wife. Grandpa Jones gets in the middle of the crosswalk and suddenly he remembers he's not a widower. Yet. Meanwhile, Grandma Moses who is exactly ten shuffled paces away can't figure out that the man she has fondled, blown, fucked, salad tossed, and taken shit from for the last 50 years is ... right fucking in front of her! All she can do is look in every direction except where he is and yell; "Jed, where are you?" All of this just happens to be going on in the crosswalk that I stop to let you cross and walk in. So move your fucking asses!d

2. If by chance you are lucky enough to not have kids with you, or a spouse to hold you back, and you really got your shit together, it is still not a 100% sure shot you are doing what I need you to do. Chances are you are going to do the one thing that just makes me want to pretend to be the second car coming off of turn two just inches away from taking the lead on the last lap of the Daytona 500 and well, I guess all I gotta do is gun it. And run you down like a dog in the street. When you enter the crosswalk, go in a direct line. Perhaps you remember way back in elementary school when you learned this little pearl of wisdom: The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Not an angled one! You have left the safety of the sidewalk, it should be ingrained in you that you now need to get to the next safest point as quickly as possible. That next safest point being anywhere that I can't run your ass down with this 1,000 pound * death machine I call a car. It's not a gun pointed at your head but in the wrong hands it might as well be.

So what have we learned? Get in the crosswalk and get out of the crosswalk. As fast as possible, especially if I am the driver of the car that stopped to let you cross. You'll recognize me, I'll be the one with the evil smile on my face wondering what you would look like in a wheelchair.

* The writer of this blog does not know the exact weight of the car he drives but 1,000 pounds sounded pretty damn good and heavy enough to kill the average asshole.