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8:42 a.m. - 2005-02-03


Years ago, I came up with this fantastic idea for the automobile.

It would be like a Lite Brite for your back window where you could send messages to other cars.

And in the middle of your steering wheel would be this blank board where you just write with your fingertip and whatever you write shows up on the Lite Brite.

So you could write stuff like "Nice move, cocksucker" on it when someone is driving like an idiot, pull in front of them and flash it at them.

I would use this thing CONSTANTLY writing stuff like "Who taught you to drive? Ray Charles??" and "Speed it up, Granny ... some of want to reach our destination before we die."

It would even have 10 pre-sets so that you could just punch #5 and "I am following you home and killing you because you're such a shitty driver" would pop up instantly.

Yes, you'd eventually have to let them in front of you to really scare them.

And no, I would not recommend actually killing someone because they're a bad driver. The phrase is only there to scare them so bad that they never drive again, resorting to public transportation instead.

Which is a boost for the local economy so it's a win-win situation!!

Anyway, I really needed this feature in my car this morning because I had to take Andrew to daycare because Mommy's going to Georgia for the day because that's where her internet boyfriend lives, I guess.

I got behind this little old lady who decided that everyone needed to drive 35 miles an hour today rather than 55 because it calmed her nerves.

And in order to accomplish this goal, she drove straight down the yellow line between two lanes, straddling that baby like it was Wilford Brimley's withered diabetic penis.

So as I casually punch the living shit out of the middle of my steering wheel in order to blow my horn at her in a constant blast of high power bleating, lo and behold ... my goddamned horn doesn't work.

I'm stuck behind a zombie going 35 mph in a 55 and have no way of letting her know that her stupidity is about to cause me to have an aneurysm that will fill my eye sockets with blood.

I cannot get around her because it would mean I'd have to drive into the median and quite possibly kill myself and my son which isn't really an option because while the wife may have an internet boyfriend in Georgia, she's gotten a wee bit attached to myself and the kid over the years.

Finally, Granny turns into a shopping center to do her grocery shopping, which naturally takes her 30 minutes to make the turn because she has to slow down about six miles before the turn. Heaven forbid she make a turn going 35 mph.

She turns left into the shopping center, I bid her a fond farewell with my middle finger and punch the accelerator to show her who's boss even if she's not paying the least bit attention to any other soul around her.


So I really could have used that fucking Lite Brite today.

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