Hello to all you Festivus revellers, gatherers 'round the Pole, fellow
airers of Grievances. I felt it necessary today to call out a
particular subset of humanity though, while small in number, have
caught my attention with their egregious ways of late.
There's no easy nickname to give them, but they all have one thing in
common: they don't look where the fuck they're walking when they cross
the street. So, if you like, we can call them the
No-Look-Fucker-Walkers, or some shit like that.
You've seen them while driving, I know you have. You're in your car,
creeping around a shopping mall parking lot (it's Festivus, you know
-- busy times) and there they are, crossing in front of traffic
without even as much as a glance towards moving automobiles. Sometimes
they're talking or texting on cell phones, sometimes they're just
staring off into space, and sometimes they're even pushing baby
strollers carrying around THEIR PRECIOUS LITTLE MADISON or TYLER or
EMMA or whatever the hell's trendy these days, in a stroller which
likely costs more than the thing you're driving (but that's a whole
other Grievance unto itself; H.E.'s gotta focus here).
What's going through these peoples' heads, anyway? Is there ANYTHING
going through their heads? Are they singing along to 38 Special's
"Caught Up In You" which is coursing through their brains? Tough to
Earlier this year in my fair town, it seemed like every day on the
news you'd hear about someone who got hit and killed by a car while
(unsuccessfully) crossing a street. No wonder! With all the friggin'
clueless people in the world, frankly, I'm surprised more don't get
nailed. Perhaps we need to thin out their herd, Fellow Drivers of
North America. I say we mount cowcatchers on the fronts of our cars,
hit the gas, and just go to town.
And thus ends my Festivus rant. Now I have to go pin my father to the floor.
Toronto, Soviet Canuckistan