Over Exposition

This evening.....for the first time all winter.....I exposed myself (not literally) to the wonders that are (is?!?) Pacific Northwestern-er Winter (READ:Snow) Driving, and I was speechless. In a not good way.

Before I continue on, it should be noted that I consider myself a little bit of a misanthrope and therefore all comments, opinions, and observations are mine and mine alone, and probably are a little jaded. Where as most people will by default give General Humanity the benefit of the doubt, I personally would prefer to melt all humans with an orbital laser, while I hide in my lair and eat chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, and dream up essentially useless methods of crushing civilization (which would be oddly ironic, if I were melting all humans with an orbital laser, I would, in essence, be crushing civilization). I like to think I'm more Brain, but in reality I'm just a Pinky.

Anyway, on to the point at hand. While I am certainly no exception to the rule, and therefore quite just in my accusations, everyone on the road in front of me at any given point in time drives like a jackass. They drive too fast, to slow, or just plain retarded. I'm sure that I myself have been this exact same jackass, but from my perspective YOU are the jackass.

So given that I hate everyone impeding my clear and fast route to and from work, those people that do get in front of me, and thus slow down my trek, have an inherent level of fucktard-itude as depicted by the below graph:



Now, as I had previously mentioned, tonight was a brilliant night of snow and suck. I'm not sure at the exact chemical reaction in the brains of the typical north westerner, but SOMETHING happened, and the fucktard-itude factor grew exponentially as depicted on the below graph:



It probably doesn't help that I managed to fall in line (in traffic of course) behind Corky the Driving Imbecile and his magical Subaru of Retarded-ness. I feel I must expand on Corky and his driving abilities. Apparently he was taught that in traffic, after the line has come to a complete standstill, one must let a 6 to 7 car length gap open in front of you, before you slam on your accelerator, and pretend you're racing the quarter, only to slam on your breaks and come to a screeching halt aproximately 3cm from the bumper of the car in front of you.

Breath.
Repeat.
For 5 miles.
I hate him so much.

Well, wish me luck tomorrow,
~M.