I will try not to Road Rage…

IMG_1107.jpegThat’s been my mantra for the last few years.

In Southern California that’s not an easy mantra to keep.

I’ll admit there are times when I do something on the road that’s just plain DUMB!

But those events are rare and that’s mostly due to having a plan about where I’m going and how I’m going to get there.

I do not cut across 3 lanes of traffic to exit the freeway, I’ll go to the next exit and turn around. I don’t tailgate. (Unless you come into my lane suddenly, and baby if you do that, It’s ON YOU!)

On mountain roads, I’m even more careful. Usually these are single lanes and most of the curves are blind curves. Going into a turn at 60 MPH and finding that traffic is stopped as you round the bend is a recipe for very bad things to happen. This is doubly dangerous during winter when you may have ice on the roads.

Even in summer you can round a blind curve and find a large assed rock sitting in the roadway. Guess what? You’re not going to be able to stop… Ooops!

At night in winter, when the temp is hovering around freezing, and the couple of people ahead of you are driving within the speed limit and carefully. I tend to hang back at least three or four car lengths. 

That gives me time to stop, and also means I’m not rushing someone, who for all I know isn’t familiar with the road and hasn’t driven much on snow or ice.

It’s just plain common sense.

That’s the situation I found myself in last night coming home from Big Bear. There were several cars ahead of me. They were all driving well and commensurate with the conditions and posted speed limits.

In other words, they were being responsible safe drivers and while they were moving slower than I could have been, I respected their caution. 

I downshifted and was letting the engine do the braking while generally maintaining my usual following distance.

I was the last car in the line and was actually enjoying the drive. There’s a Zen to knowing what your car will do and being with like-minded drivers. Every one of them was maintaining a good following distance and it was obvious that they were simply wanting to get down the mountain safely.

Every single one of them was using the passing lanes as intended, keeping to the right and allowing people to pass if they wished. Those folks that were passing weren’t passing to be in a hurry, it appeared to be mostly about the gearing and weight of their vehicle. They’d pass a car then settle back into the line, the only notable exception was that they weren’t on their brakes as much. We all signaled when the passing lanes ended and moved back to the left.

It was actually very pleasant. The moon was bright, the stars were pretty, the butt warmer was on, and I was relaxed.

Of course it couldn’t last… 

Another car pulls up behind me. I can tell it’s a Jeep from the headlights, and they’ve come out of nowhere. Obviously they’re in a hurry but there’s no passing lane (and won’t be for another 10 miles) and this idiot is right on my ass. 

He must’ve been able to see the line of cars in front of me and the ripple of brake lights as each of the people in front of me slowed to enter the next 25 MPH hairpin curve.

But (he or she) is fixated on the fact that there’s following distance between me and the next vehicle. Obviously, the .25 seconds that following distance represents is important. 

Sigh!

The car in front of me lights up its brake lights as the driver slows to enter the next hairpin. I likewise touch my brakes to slow and the Jeep turns on its brights.

Uh gee, thanks! Now I’m partially blinded entering a hairpin curve, (A helpful roadsign contained a drawing describing the curve.)  Partially blinded, I slow more because I can no longer see the wispy lane markers. This simple act of safety apparently enraged the driver of the Jeep.

I do my best to ignore them and concentrate on making it through the curve. As I come out of the curve the line of other drivers has come to a complete stop. I do the same and now the Jeep asshole is really pissed.

There were some rocks on the pavement which the careful drivers were picking their way through. The brights from the Jeep are annoying the car in front of me too, they’ve slowed considerably to pick their way around the obstruction.

I glance at the Nav system. 20 miles to go like this… Great!

The vehicles ahead pick up speed and I follow suit. 

I’m looking for a turnout. I’d like to get this moron off my ass, they’re way too close and every-time I brake I’m concerned that this idiot is going to plow into the back of my car. I’m no longer relaxed. In fact, I’m starting to build some road rage.

There’s no excuse for this kind of behavior, what exactly does this idiot think, that those other vehicles are an illusion? I’m thinking seriously about stopping my car and having it out with this stupid fuck. (I think to myself, “There’s no excuse for you to be itching for a throw down either.”)

I drive on.  I maintain my following distance to the next car.

I’ve got exam gloves in my pocket from my day of cleaning up after renters. I could put them on, block the road, beat the shit out of this moron, push their Jeep down the cliff to be found in spring, and leave no fingerprints… That puts a smile on my face and I realize I’m giving in to road rage.

I calm myself, step back from the abyss and keep driving. The moron behind me turns off their brights. That’s better, then the brights come on again. Grrrr!

The next turnouts are iced over and inaccessible. I keep driving.

Finally a passing lane opens up I move to the right, as does every other sensible driver. The moron passes exactly 3 cars before the lane ends. Now they’re stuck behind a UPS truck and another car. They’re not going any faster, but they’re in the debris trail the UPS truck is kicking up as they round every bend. All the rock chips must be doing a number on their paint. As they passed I could see the Jeep was blue. 

I smile…

15 miles further on, the mountain road dumps into a two lane highway, then a freeway.

We’re below 2000 ft and the temp is a balmy 40 F. I take the faster of the two lanes and I’m suddenly behind the Jeep. I’m not doing anything to annoy or harass them. I’m just there biding my time…

The two lane dumps onto the freeway and there’s indecision from the Jeep about which lane they want to be in. They’re obviously trying to decide which transition to take onto the 210. They have a choice, San Bernardino or Pasadena. I’m setting up to head toward Pasadena.

The interchange is fast approaching, I hit the button setting my car to “Sport” mode. I now have the full power of 300 HP and tighter handling and suspension of my vehicle at my command. They’re still wavering in their decision about the interchange, left, right, left, the Jeep appears to be bouncing off the lane markers.

I think they’re probably meaning to head to Pasadena. I accelerate to pace them, preventing them from making the lane change. It’s a long sweeper interchange and I’m doing 85 with ease. So is the Jeep. They accelerate and so do I. They’re signaling, ( these days, in this situation signaling is the equivalent of begging. Especially in this situation, since this driver hasn’t used a signal once down the mountain.) I don’t care – apparently neither does anyone else. Other people that the Jeep has annoyed are right on my tail.

There’s no opening and the moronic Jeep sails off toward San Bernardino They’re tapping their brakes in the fashion idiots will, when they realize they’re lost and looking for a way to turn around. I know that they can’t make any choices to even get off the freeway for 7 miles, and their best option is to go on down to the I-10 interchange 14 miles down the road.

Other people behind me toot their horns in a friendly way as we make the transition signaling our intention to merge. I gently slow to ambient freeway speed and signal to take the next to the slow lane avoiding 18 wheelers.

I notice a guy next to me with his interior light on. He’s the driver of the truck that had been in front of me when this all started. When I look over he gives me a “Thumbs-Up” sign. I nod and he’s smiling as his interior light goes off.

I’m smiling too. Maybe the Jeep driver will get lost and subsequently mugged in San Bernardino. One can only hope…

I never said I was perfect.

I only said my mantra is, “I will try not to road rage”

Besides, I wasn’t raging. I was purposefully driving to my destination.

Remember, there are other ways to exact your pound of flesh and they can be just as satisfying.

Southpark is right

Canadians are Wacky

I’ve spent the last two years dealing with a fractional percentage of Canadians. With a vanishingly small percentage of those people being actually “normal”.

Almost every Canadian I’ve spoken to has been full goose batshit crazy.

At first I thought it was just cultural differences. I’ve changed my mind!

The majority of people I talk to are, a little nuts. The Canadians I’ve talked to, take it to a whole new level. 

They seem to want to abdicate responsibility for everything including basic maintenance for themselves and their devices. I’ve talked to folks up there who refuse to restart their machines. I mean really? You won’t restart your phone to fix a problem? 

Instead you want me to wave a magic wand 4000 miles away and make your problem go away. Are you serious? This is especially annoying when you’ve managed to walk them through the issue and they’ve admitted to you that other applications on their phone aren’t working properly. I can’t say anything but nice politically correct things.

South park canada on strikeWhat I’d like to do is give them a full on dose of reality. “You aren’t maintaining you phone, your applications aren’t working because you’re not maintaining your phone, and you’re a fucking moron!

My annoyance with these Canadians is taken to new heights when they get all whiny and play the “Victim Card”. Really? You expect that to make me more likely to want to help you? NOPE! I care even less.

You’ve got the problem, you’ve made the problem, I’ve told you how to fix the problem and you’re not willing to do what I tell you. Nothing in life is a certainty, other than you’re going to die at some point. Machines and technology are even less certain because… well they’re machines and they wear out.

I’ve decided that should I ever be in a position where I’m making something and selling it, I will specifically not sell to Canada. The cost of doing business with them is simply going to be too high. It’s like they’ve gotten so used to getting their way and getting free shit that NOW they expect to get free shit whenever they feel like pitching a fit. Well not on my dime!

That being said, there are some Canadians that I like. I’m not sure which group is the exception, but I’m going to be very selective about Canadians that I hang out with in general.

It’s a pity really. The few Canadians that are in my life are pragmatic, productive, hardy people. 

Perhaps I’d misjudged. Perhaps the Canadians I know, left Canada because they just couldn’t take the bullshit of their countrymen. 

I’ll have to ask…

An Ugly Tableu

Getting home from a hard day at work. I get out of my car and see two neighbors having a conversation. I think nothing of it at first.

It’s only as I’m opening my car passenger door to get my backpack that I clearly hear the woman in the conversation fairly shrieking “You touched your penis!

Some part of my exhausted brain went, “Huh? What?”

The conversation that I heard after that went something like;

You touched your penis, you were in my apartment. You’re a piece of filth! No wonder your wife left you, no wonder your son doesn’t want to live with you. I hope everyone figures out what a peice of trashy filth you are!

The man who was the object of this tirade is using a cane to walk, he moves slowly and uncertainly, due to severe spinal damage. In other words, this guy is probably zero threat to a woman. And God only knows that he may have adjusted himself because of something to do with the injuries.

I honestly don’t know, I wasn’t there. I can say that occasionally this guy when I’ve spoken to him outside the apartments. I have noticed that sometimes (clearly unconsciously he adjusts himself). Honestly it looks like he’s in pain when he does it.

As I focused on the “Conversation” I could see that he was genuinely ashamed. I could also see that the woman was quite enraged.

Then I really took a look at her and the first thought I had was she looked like Jabba the Hut.

Hell, I’d have been adjusting myself to prevent my penis from crawling up inside.

But then I realized I was downwind. I couldn’t help but notice the fetid odor of unwashed human, with just a touch of yeasty vagina. Yeah, I could smell all this from about 10 feet away.

RETCH

Now I have a conundrum, I can ignore this insanity. Or I can say what I really think, which is;

Damn lady if this broken old man is getting wood because of your fat stinky ass, you should count yourself lucky. I’d imagine there’s been nothing twix your legs that didn’t run on batteries for decades. I’d bet your vibrators are so stinky that you have to replace them every month because some stink just never goes away. I’d never punish my dick by putting it in you. Hell, seeing you naked would make me want to suck cock for free, on the street, in Iran! At least then my torment would be ended quickly by a fall from a tall building.

But I weighed my options, decided that I was too tired and that this was not my battle.

After all for me, very few people I encounter would be worth my energy.

I evaluated the situation for a moment more…

I closed the passenger door to the car, shook my head and walked away.

Neither of these people were my concern.

In retrospect, I think that it was the shrillness of the harridan, and how closely she was mimicking, so closely the “Group Think” of the feminist movement today. Obviously she thought all men were scum but wasn’t pretty enough or gutsy enough to simply declare she was a lesbian.

Some gay men who never fully embrace their gayness get really weird and very hostile to women and other gay men. Perhaps this was the female version of the phenomenon.

Remotely interesting… Still not interesting enough for me to engage. Perhaps it was simple penis envy… Nope, not interesting enough.

I climbed the stairs to my apartment, unlocked and opened the door, closed it behind me and was immediately cloaked in silence.

Bliss!

I guess that I’m just over all the politics, victimhood, and insanity.

I did feel kinda bad for the guy.

But like most men, I figured if he wouldn’t defend himself then I wasn’t going to do it for him.

Yep, the peace of my apartment was a lot better than listening to a shrill bitch badmouthing men simply because we have external plumbing.

Starbucks Encounters

Starbucks Logo

Starbucks is an interesting place to observe people.

I’m sitting at a small table, waiting for the traffic to die down. I’m blogging, which is also kinda normal for me. But as I was blogging, I thought to myself there are all kinds of stories here. 

There are the usual students, and hipsters. The hipster kid in the beanie on his Macbook FaceTiming on the free WiFi, heedless of the impact he’s having on all the other patrons in the place. 

The disgruntled looks from the other students trying to do research who now have throughput that’s slower than 300 Baud ever was. (You whippersnappers, look it up.)

The annoyed patrons around the kid, as they’re being forcibly included in the kids’ conversation. 

Hipsters1

I’m immune to the throughput issues, because I’m using the hotspot on my phone. I’m at a small table with only one chair in a far corner of the room. The Kid notices me looking at him as he fairly shouts into his headset “I like having you play with my asshole!” 

Ahem, he forgot that the muffling effect of his earbuds meant he couldn’t hear himself and when you can’t hear yourself speak, you tend to yell.

There’s no embarrassment for his part, he’s looking at me with doe eyed innocence, either not realizing that the entire place now knows he likes having his ass played with or simply not caring.

WOW! 


Standing in line

Two people ahead of me. 

Starbucks line

First person has gotten to the counter but has still not decided what they want. Suddenly everything is in slow motion. I’m questioning if I actually need coffee. 

The person finally figures out what they want, and pay for their order.

The next person steps to the counter, “I don’t know what I want…” TIME STOPS! After slow tedious questions and descriptions by the counter person a beverage decision is made.

Only NOW does the lady start digging in her purse for her wallet and a method of payment.

While the lady in front is learning about the merits and growing conditions of Columbian coffee beans, (Which by the way she didn’t buy) Another lady is behind me.

And she’s stepping into my personal space, on my left, then on my right, then on my left, then on my right and she’s bumping me in the process.  All this un-necessary motion in close proximity activates my security instincts.

I turn to carefully look this woman over. I mean carefully, with intensity and precision. 

“What are you a perv,” she asks annoyed at the attention.

“No, I’m just making sure you don’t have a bomb vest on, since you’re obviously agitated, in a rush, and had NO PROBLEM trying to bum rush me out of your way. DO YOU WANT TO GO AHEAD OF ME?” I replied firmly.

Now “crazy lady” is looking at me like I’ve got two heads.  Hey, as far as I’m concerned her opening line about my being a perv was intended to be shocking. So I replied in kind and I think I trumped her

The lady at the counter is still getting her education about coffee beans. 

Crazy Starbucks Lady.

“I’m an American!”

“As am I, ma’m, however apparently I’ve got much better manners and understanding of “waiting in line” social etiquette, than you do.”

“I repeat, do you want to go ahead of me? Honestly, your invasion of my personal space and obvious impatience is putting me very much on edge.”

She blinked like I’d slapped her.

“Uh no.”

“As you wish.”

I turned back to the counter. The lady ahead of us having now completed her coffee bean education, digs into her purse for her wallet… Sigh.


Placing orders.

your order please

My turn: “Cafe Mocha, no whip.” I flash my Starbucks App barcode at the scanner and I’m on my way to the pickup station. Before I get to the pickup station, my phone vibrates telling me that the purchase receipt has arrived.

“Crazy Lady” is asking questions about the coffee drinks… Four minutes later, Cafe Mocha in hand, I’m heading out the door. The line too is out the door, “Crazy Lady” is only now digging in her purse for her wallet…  

There oughta be two lines. One for those of us who know what the hell we want, and another for those who don’t know what they want, and aren’t organized enough to have their method of payment ready.

I know you can place your order on-line, I’m just enough of a luddite I still like having the interaction. 

I’d like the lines…

If you get in the “I know what I want line,” and don’t have your order and payment ready, you get asked to step to the other line.

10 Seconds! That’s all you get, If you don’t have your cash out, or payment thing ready, your order is canceled and you’re asked to step to the back of the other line. 

Fitting punishment, I’d say.


Sitting at a table

Starbucks Table

When I sit at a Starbucks table, I like to hang out, out of the main flow of people.

I’m often working on a book or a blog, or coding something on a website. Generally, I can shut out the hustle and bustle around me as white noise and be in my own little world.

Sometimes though, my attention is drawn to the mini-dramas playing out in the rest of the place.

The crying child. The angry person on their phone. The older person having their first experience with Starbucks. The students, and hipsters grooving to their own beats. The gaudy dude in the tasteless suit wearing fake diamonds bigger than the Hope diamond in his ears, and the cheap flashy Rolex knock-off. (Dude, here’s a hint, we know it’s all fake because of your shoes and the POS beater car we saw you get out of.) The homeless guy outside on the patio trying to stay out of the wind and find a little shade drinking the left-overs, and getting a little charity from the occasional good soul.

Starbucks Crowd

It’s a cross section of humanity, and very often an interesting mélange of people. There’s a texture to the people at Starbucks, with some variations dependent on region, all Starbucks are the same.

The mélange of people is essentially the same, and when you’ve been in enough Starbucks you start to think you’re seeing even the same individuals in every store.

So much for originality or uniqueness! 


Relaxation

Crowd1

Sitting there doing my thing and tuning in and out of the mini dramas is strangely relaxing for me.

I’ve never run into anyone I actually knew at a Starbucks. Everyone in the place are strangers. I get to engage in judgement without guilt.

Starbucks mini dramas provide material for my writing. I think I’m relieved that I don’t actually have to live all of the drama to get a feel for what it’s about.

I think I’m relaxed because I’m reminded that my problems aren’t unique, and my focus is expanded beyond my immediate crisis. 

What’s that old saying?

Misery loves company…

Published without further comment…

 

Saudi cleric calls chess ‘work of the devil,’ issues fatwa

Saudi Arabia’s top Muslim cleric has issued a fatwa against chess, saying it is like gambling and is forbidden by God. The mufti said the game was a waste of time and stirred enmity among people.

“Chess is like alcohol and gambling that God has forbidden,” Saudi Arabia’s Grand Mufti Sheikh Abdel-Aziz al-Sheikh announced in one of his broadcasts that has appeared frequently in the last months.

The cleric expressed his views in a Saudi religious television channel called Almajd.

Chess buffs in the country said they were upset by the mufti’s statement. “The mufti has no background about chess and its modern systems,” Moussa Bandr, an official of the Saudi Chess Association, told journalists of the dpa news agency.

“This fatwa could open the door for the religious police in the kingdom to have a legal reason for stopping us from organizing chess tournaments,” Bandr said, adding that a chess event had begun on Friday in Mecca without any problems.

Meanwhile, chess mogul Garry Kasparov came to the rescue, condemning the fatwa and demanding that Riyadh concentrate more on human rights and democracy.

Chess is popular in Saudi Arabia, where men play the game at home or in coffee houses. Riyadh follows a very strict interpretation of Islam called Wahhabism which imposes strict restrictions, including the segregation of men and women in public and a ban on women’s driving.
mg/bw (dpa, AFP)
– via DW.COM

Except to say this is one of many ways to make sure your people continue to wallow in irrationality and illogic.