FIREBLIND.COM

I don’t know if you know this, but I should be allowed to kill people. Well, not all people in all circumstances, but I think it’s only fair that I have the power of life and death when it comes to dangerous drivers or drivers who are just generally douches. My eighth-grade teacher Mrs. Earnest told me that I was wise beyond my years, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t tell you this, so that pretty much means that I get to have the power of life and death and you don’t.

So……. I’m constantly amazed at how dangerously people in SoCal drive. Just because you have a lowered, $12,000 Honda with fake exhaust doesn’t give you the right to swerve across multiple lanes on the way to your manga convention. If you do it AND you have illegal window tint on your car, I swear to god I should have the right to put you down. Who are you, the President of f’ing Paraguay? Why the hell do you need illegal dark tint on the front windows? I don’t care if you’re Oskar goddamned “I-saved-like-a-million-Jews” Schindler driving away from the ghost of Hitler, if you have illegal window tint on your POS car and you dare cut me off from 4 lanes over and you’re not the President of Paraguay, you’d better hide for all your worth once I’m elected Vice President in 2016.

On my way home today, some guy on a freaking ’70s era moped is burning up the bike lane, hogging the white line so everyone has to avoid him. Because traffic was moving so slowly, he stayed with me for several miles. The stupid moped was bright green, and he had a bright orange motorcycle helmet on, as if that somehow hid the fact that he still lives with his mom who tucks him in at night and calls him pookie and kisses him on the forehead. And, to make matters worse, he didn’t have any bloody brakes!!!! He’d be tearing down the street, blocking the right lane and then the light would turn red, and he would put his stupid feet down and drag them at 40 mph to stop himself! I wish I had my camera so that I could take take his picture and steal his soul and then step on it. I will say one thing though: Keds have some amazing stopping power.

(Speaking of Keds, since when is Mischa Barton a model for Keds?!?!?!?! Click the link above to see her one stop away from working for Burger King.)

Anyways, I finally pull through the gate at my complex and notice a car I don’t recognize in the space next to me. It’s not a bad car, but it’s got a Club on it. A CLUB! I looked around to make sure it wasn’t 1996 and that I wasn’t at K-Mart. Thankfully, I was still in the present, although I’m not sure when I moved to West Virginia. Bloody hell people! Can you not try just a little harder to impress me? I really am going to remember all of this someday. If—by then—you haven’t changed into at least a marginally attractive female or a gay guy who can help me dress better, you’d pretty much better plan on fighting lions and bears in my new coliseum.