Don't Know If Hate

Want to hear me complain about something else I hate? No?

Oh. Sorry then, I'll stowell that's too goddamn bad here we go!

Bumper stickers. A few tasteful ones, that's cool. Shit like this? Needlessly uncool.

Because I wanted to know your political opinions and offspring's honor roll status while stuck in traffic

I think the worst thing here is that, deep down inside my head, a little voice is telling me "Hey man, it's their property, they can do what they want with it." But then the louder, angry voice inside the rest of my head is telling me "Your car deserves to be run over by a bulldozer you useless prat."

Do we care about your view on Iraq? No. Do we care about you liking hockey? Nada. Do we find Calvin pissing on a wall funny? 10 years ago, maybe. Nor do we care about what pets you have, stupid anecdotes my mother would send me in an email, your religion, what you do on your spare time, or where you have to drive your kids.

"Well, East Man, don't look at it if you don't like it." Well, hypothetical question maker, you don't drive much, do you? You kinda have to look at the vehicle in front of you to, you know, not run into it. The cancer ribbons are fine, though, because that actually means something useful.