Anyone who’s ever had the pleasure of being a passenger in my car knows the colorful language and gestures I use to vent my frustration with fellow drivers. I warn new passengers not to be alarmed when I lay on the horn and shame the idiot who just cut me off and nearly caused a collision. Despite the language, I’m not actually as mad as I would be if I just quietly took all the vehicular abuse that drivers inflict on me on a daily basis (I have a theory that my car has a Cloak of Invisibility feature that I can’t turn off, because NO ONE EVER SEES ME when switching lanes, resulting in many near-misses to the point where I can just predict someone’s going to swing out of their lane).
Now, Jayne is an absolute bro in the passenger seat because even though she doesn’t drive (non-drivers tend to be happily unaware of the woes of drivers), she totally gets into it with me, proclaiming, “Look at that asshole!” and generally helping me feel righteous in my rage. This means my anger burns off quickly and we go back to our Floyd sing-along. Some, however, are too weak to handle that sort of display, and feebly exclaim, “Geez, calm down,” like my frustration at nearly having my car damaged (Best case scenario. It could be my health.) is somehow unwarranted.
No. No no no. To those people I say: If you weren’t taught right from wrong, or were born without the ability to value justice, it’s not my problem. Though I may take it upon myself to come to your house and beat some sense into you.
To me, this is a classic case of gaslighting, like the people don’t realize their lives could have also been impacted (no pun intended, though I do love puns) by a collision and they should also be mad. Mad as fuck. This idiot, who was clearly distracted by his cell phone, just flew out into the street without looking and could have T-boned the shit out of you, dear passenger, if not for my reflexes. WHY AREN’T YOU MORE MAD? Why are you ok with reckless, idiotic behavior going unpunished?
I think I should be a superhero who goes around punishing stupid people for doing stupid things. Not stupid like “you just put cash in the toaster” but stupid like “you’re tweeting ‘YOLO’ while speeding on the freeway.” I don’t know yet what I shall call myself, but when I do, YOU WILL KNOW ME!
With that, I’d like to dedicate a loving poem to those whom I call the Calm Down Brigade. Ahem.
“Fuck you,” I’m yelling, from behind in my car,
Middle finger stuck out of my window, so far.
“You almost just hit me, you piece of shit jerk.
May your manhood shrink with your insolent smirk.”
“Whoa dude, calm down, it’s not a big deal,”
She tells me all casual how I should feel.
I guess you’re not worried about a collision,
Since you’re making me question my sane decision.
You must be ok, then, with physical pain,
So stoic of you, no fear in your brain.
Maybe I’ll give you a taste of the stuff,
Just yell something angry when you’ve had enough.
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