The sun is shining, the birds are singing—I get it—now freaking drive already!
I drove Tanya to work today (I’m going to see X-Men III tonight). I always hate driving this time of year. When I lived in Washington State, winter was the time of year that you didn’t want to have to get out on the road. After all, up north, there is snow and ice, and if you’re not really careful, you could die.
But here in Los Angeles, things are a little different. It’s the summer that you have to watch out for. Something strange happens here in the summer. People’s brains turn to a soft, grey, Jello-like dessert that I can only assume tastes something like cherries jubilee mixed with horse rectum.
People in LA turn into morons in the summer. They somehow forget how to function as fully developed human beings. Reflexes slow. Eye sight diminishes and loses focus. Reasoning skills are severely compromised.
It makes me want to take half the city by the hand, safety pin permission slips to their shirts and escort them on a field trip to the zoo.
And it seems to affect the part of the population who have driver’s licenses the most. Suddenly even the simplest of lane-changes becomes a week-long struggle. A heated debate starts in the minds of commuters.
“Right lane or left lane? I could be in the right lane. But the left lane looks nice too. Shut up, brain! Right lane! No, goddamned it! Left lane! My word but the sun is shiny today!”
It’s some kind of sun-induced schizophrenia. People try to make a calculated decision, but the sun just sits there, its usurping voice repeating “hey, look at me. Look at how bright I am. Aren’t I lovely today? Aren’t I hot? Hot and lovely? Lovely and hot? Yes, yes I am. I’m all those things. Don’t worry about trivial things like which lane you’re going to drive in or how slow you’re going or how many people you just ran down at that last intersection. Just listen to my voice. Go as slow as you want. Drive in both lanes. And those people you mowed down? Well, every one of them has killed a baby.”
Look, I enjoy a fine spring/summer morning just as much as the next guy. It’s pretty and all. Yes it’s a miracle. God is sharing his glory with the world and all that. But, really, get your freaking sun-stroked ass in gear and drive or I will give you a chance to share God’s love from a front row seat in heaven…or wherever the hell it is that people who can’t be bothered to pay attention to other drivers spend eternity after I kill them.
I don’t want to have to enjoy the wonders of nature on your schedule. Believe it or not, it’s not up to you whether or not I’m too high strung or should calm down or stop and smell the roses or some other such crap. I have my own roses to smell. Yours smell like ass. If I seem to be moving too fast for such a nice lazy day—tough. I’m not easily distracted by shiny objects. Even if the particular shiny object happens to contain approximately 98% of the total mass in the solar system.
Now, enjoy the sunshine. But don’t be a retard about it.
Fun Fact: The sun does indeed contain about 98% of the solar system’s total mass. The sun is also made up mostly of hydrogen, the most abundant element in the universe.
Way to be original, sun.
The sun’s surface is 11,000°F, which, next to Palm Springs, California and Tampa, Florida, makes it the most desirable place for old people to retire to.
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