Where Else Would I Go.

I’m absolutely shattered. Wrecked. Can’t take much more of this. I’m merely holding onto the shards of yesterday’s free coffee blessing at this point because the foppy headed nitwit at Tully’s managed to hand me a Grande Americano when I clearly asked for Iced Grande Americano. Nothing else ever leaves my lips in these joints. I never try to give them any detail they could possibly mess up. Of course I wasn’t thinking of the ice I suppose. I was in no mood to argue, I just slumped out of that place totally and desperately bummed.

And it gets better. And in keeping with the theme of anti-yesterday I had to stop at a cross walk as a bicyclist barreled not cycled mind you but barreled through. I stood there mildly stunned, but managed to give the douche bag a round of applause for rising so high in his chose vocation. Being a douche bag.

God forbid a pedestrian or anyone not so mechanically minded and vacant be given access to the road. Those that choose to cycle at perilous and dangerously uncontrollable speeds must be given the right of way? I missed it. No, I’ve decided that cyclists blow and they need to go. They have no place in the modern metropolis. No place whatsoever. Cab it, walk, or move somewhere that can accommodate your jack-ass method of locomotion. And your bad manners.

Since bikes and their useless operators are easily transported across state lines I think this is something that calls for hard-core Federal legislation. It’s not a local issue sunshine. It’s a global nuisance and I for one have had enough of staring at (let alone having to yield to) malformed asses in tights casually rolling past when I was trying to do nothing simpler then walk myself to work.

Police power much.