What the fuck is wrong with the human race?
What would possess someone to drive twenty miles under the speed limit while braking on every tiny variation in incline on perfectly dry and straight roads under reasonable driving conditions? I can accept driving carefully, maintaining the speed limit and adding an extra level of alertness. No problem there. Anything less would be irresponsible. Even more irresponsible is driving like Granny Gruntcakes on her fucking Sunday drive in the eighty year old Model A when there’s no appreciable reason to do so.
Modern human behaviour is governed by four words: “It’s not about you.”
Meaning, of course, it’s all about me.
I gotta get away from here. Away from the goddamned country bumpkins. Away from the goddamned elderly. Away from the ignorant wigger hicks. Sadly, there’s no place better. All places are shite. And they’re all filled with goddamned people.
Christ, I hate the Christmas season. I want to be nice. I want to be kind, and generous, and full of love for my fellow man. Christian charity and all that.
But it’s goddamned hard to do when people drive like untrained apes, the Salvation Army has legions of drooling asylum parolees ringing that thrice-goddamned bell in every fucking doorway in the nation, people in the stores are downright offensive and the blaring klaxon of commerce is screaming in your fucking face.
When the day comes, and I snap, and I start skinning people. Let it be known that it is completely justified.