In fact, I think the smart thing to do is to get your Fred Flintstone, Vespa-sounding, hunk of tin out of the left lane so that my gigantic steel cage on four huge wheels can get down the road at a rate faster than the apparent maximum eco-car speed of 45mph.
*glares*
I expect that this one may bring on the hate mail from the tree-huggers who will most likely stop reading right about…. here… in order to “have their say, dang it!” but frankly, I don’t care. I motor about in a big, gas guzzling, 4-wheel drive, I-can-climb-over-your-trunk-if-I-feel-like-it, gorgeous piece of imported fantastic-ness. I spent my American-made dollars on a vehicle whose manufacturer did not consider that long, skinny pedal on the right, part of an “options package.”
Don’t flip me off when I pass you at a “breathtaking” 60mph. You’re jealous. I know it. You know it. You were trying to be a part of “something bigger” most likely because your life is small, and instead your balls are now the size of raisins and the valet snickers at you when you pass the keys.
You need to save the world? How about you quit rattling on about your eco-friendly car “savings” (which statistically don’t actually exist according to the IIHS) and look into ways to put an end to puppy mills?
You need a cause? How about getting our teachers paid more and our politicians paid less?
Can’t figure out what to do with your spare time now that your kids are all in school and your live-in nanny is scrubbing your toilets? How about finding a way to support the arts in those very schools?
Itching to create a placard? Try this: Love is Love! Support marriage equality for gays and lesbians in all states!
Oh wait. You just need to rant about something to feel important? How about you do that during a regularly scheduled pedicure so that random passers-by are no longer exposed to that hot mess revealed by your nasty flip-flops, or your ridiculous opinions on my choice of vehicle.
Go ahead. Pick your fight. Just not with me. I’m in the mood to crush someone just for being stupid and I’m fairly certain the valet will point me in the right direction.
