More Not Fresh Pressed Baloney

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REACH OUT AND BUG SOMEONE:  Went to the telephone store yesterday.  I look at the kid and say, “My telephone bill is five dollars high this month, can you tell me what is going on?” he says, “Let me see your bill.”  I say to him, “they don’t send me a bill, they do it all electronically.”

So we walk over to the computer and I give him all of my identification and the name of my first born male child, we are off and running. He says to me “Here it is.  You had 12 photographs at .50 cent each.”

Now as our kid is really proud of his kids, and sends pictures of the youngest standing next to a trash can all of the time.  Some months ago, I had this feature disabled on my phone (along with text messaging at the same time) or at least I thought I had this covered.  I am not supposed to get photo’s or text, I am just supposed to get telephone calls for new storm windows, carports, septic tank pumping, miracle weight loss cures, stuff like that.

I tell him this, the nice kid, who still has lipstick on his cheek where his mother kissed him good-bye this morning. 

He offers me nothing.  So I say to him, “I never got any pictures, this has to be a mistake.”  He says, “Let me see your phone” and he looks for the pictures that I received that are clearly not there, and this shrugs his shoulders and says, “Must be some kind of glitch.” He removes the charge and gives me a credit, which doesn’t really put anything back in my bank account, so we may or may not be done with this issue, I am not sure.

I then ask him, “How about these junk telephone calls, am I being charged for them?” and he says, “No.”  I ask him, “so I am not charged for them even if they leave a message on my voice mail?”  He says, “Oh that is different.  If you open your voice mail and listen to the message, then you are charged for the call.”

Hmmmmm, “this means, that I am damned if I do and damned if I don’t, wouldn’t you say?”

He smiles, and says … “Yes sir.  That is about it.”  Nice kid, most likely will be some kind of politician one of these days.

FLY THE FRIENDLY SKIES:  I live in what they call a “Fly Over State” and see a lot of aircraft in the sky.  Have you ever wondered how many airliner’s are flying above this country at any one given time?  The numbers are clearly amazing, it would astound you.  I often look up at see the contrails in the sky and wonder where it is they are going and why so many of them are up there.  Here is a link, you can check it out for yourself.

The technology of this site amazes me.  Lot of interesting data can be found.  I clicked on one that said it was Air Force One and I found a shot of Mr. Obama’s aircraft on its first pass over Texas, you can see it here.

EIGHTY-NINE CENT PIE:  We are at the Root N Scoot, I have to buy my lottery tickets for the game on Tuesday.  I don’t want to be stinkin’ rich … but I would not mind smelling bad.  Anyway, this gal, all decked out to the nines in jewelry and stuff, bling-bling (I don’t know if it is real or fake, but it looks nice) walks up to the counter, lays down a .89 cent pastry.  No big thing, right?  Then she pulls out a credit card and pays for the pastry with the card.  Now here is the rub, she walks outside and get into a Lexus SUV.  What is wrong with this picture Boys n Girls?  Sort of like this thing one of our readers sent to me this week:  

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This is kind of hard to read, here is what it says:  “A woman said she noticed her purse missing from her car just before 5P.M. Sunday. The car was parked at her residence on Hornet Drive.  The woman said the car had been locked, and her purse was in the back seat.  the purse was valued at $400, the wallet was valued at $200, and cash in the purse was reported to be $800.  Also missing were the woman’s Food Stamp Cards.”

Kind of brings a tear to your eyes, doesn’t it.

ALL TANKED UP:  Subject: New gasoline coming to your gas station. Folks pay real good attention to this one.  Those friendly folks at the EPA (which stands for Exxon Prostitutes, whores and a**holes) all those unelected buddies, we have in the government have come up with a new wrinkle to get you out of your car.  Watch this video about E15 gas if you have a car older than 2012.  There is a link to the story on Fox News, but if you go to that link, surprisingly the video and information is “missing.”  Hmmmmmm?  Over on Utube you can find it all.

This move by the oil companies and the government together is in your best interests.  You see as we all slowly digress to a nation that produces nothing but debt, if we do not have an ample supply of doctored up gasoline (which insures our sucking off the petroleum tit for the next 100 years easily) we will not be able to deliver pizza’s to each other and get them to the house while they are still warm.

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Is this statuetory rape?  Or is it just a moosedemeanor?  

(Stop laughing! This is serious.)

Now I am off to the tireshop.  They put four new tires on my car last month to the tune of almost $700 and the right-front will not hold air for some reason.  I just can hear it now … “Have you been running your car with the ignition turned on?  This could affect the outcome of your final billing Mr. Smith.”

OOO

It’s Your Choice – Not Mine.

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Most mornings, I will sit at the table, cup of coffee, blinds open, watching the birds hustle to pick up the food I set out for them the night before.  How hard life must be for them and how easy it seems to be for me.  I think about a hot shower and how the water stings the back of my neck, long before the sun comes up.  Slowly I crank up to meet the new day in my own ritual.

Beside’s the shower, this (sitting at the table) is usually the best place for me, early in the morning, to gather up my thoughts, and think about what it is that I am going to post for the day.  On most days, I do not have a clue, as to what it is that I am going to share with you, I have not the faintest hint as to what I might have to freely give you.  At times I often find myself, totally lost in the moment and find no chart, no clear concise course to follow.

On some mornings, I share a bowl of oatmeal with a friend and work out my day.

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I will think about the first time my granddaughter took her little hand, placed it in mine and together, we walked across the parking lot of the truck-stop to the store.  How good it feels to be needed and wanted.  What was it that they used to call that feeling … oh yeah … a warm fuzzy.  How a four year old will exclaim to anyone within earshot … “This is the bestest day of my life” and mean every word of it.

Other times, I will think about a 12 year old boy I know, who has no friends his age, cannot throw a football, is home schooled, and cannot tell you what 4X8 might be.   “57?  Uh 64? …  41” … all good guesses, but not one is even close.  Deep inside it bothers me, because I know that not knowing how to spell a simple word like “cookie” at this age, will eventually lead to an emotionally crippled, ignorant teenager, in a very cold unfeeling world later on.  I think about his limited options, all the time painfully knowing, I have to be quiet about it, because it is a “family thing.”

Even farther back in the cavities of my mind, I will think of walking to the back of a locomotive, on a chilly winter morning, slowly chugging thru the yard for another cut of cars.  Reaching the back of the engine and finding my 47 year old friend Jack, sitting in the stairs, softly crying, because his kid is strung out on methamphetamine, and he doesn’t know what to do about it and I don’t know how to ease his pain.  I think of all the times in my own life where I feel so inadequate and used up.

This kind of thinking, often will make me happy and sometimes, it will make me sad.  Sometimes I will write about it and most often, I usually pass.  You see, most of my choices are limited, some will work out and some will wither up and die on the vine.

My thoughts such as they are, have one common denominator.

This would be that I really don’t have a choice in the matter, I have to work with what it is that I have discovered (within myself) this day.  My only options might be a set of headphones to drown out the noise or something like that.

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You on the other hand, you have a choice.

You can flip off the page and go somewhere else.  You can hit a delete button or escape and you are done.  You can report it to wordpress.com moderators as untasteful or profane, objectionable to your good adult standards or morale code.  You can ignore it completely.

The clock on the wall clicks off fractions of a day.  Often early in the morning, when we sit down to write it and then put it up, another slice of life, a moment in time laid out on the page.  Another offering is there for you to savor, relish and enjoy or to shut it down and walk away.  Some of it good and some of it not all that great.  It is all here, absolutely free.  No baggage to take with you, no promises to make or break.  And it only cost you a small portion of your time.

At times I think, believe it or not, you have the better part of the deal.

Thanks for stoppin by, as usual the comments section is open, take a shot at it if you wish.  Ameliorate the content of the post or just say hello, either one will work.

OOO

Lock N Load

pailin-gun-toterGuns – Guns – Guns

The mainstream press is alive with the subject of guns.  Guns and their owners are at the forefront of most of the news media in this country and I suppose in Europe too.

In a way I think it is kind of ironic, you see I would be willing to lay you eight to five, that hammers, pick-axes, and other hand held blunt instruments, injure, maim and kill more people in this country on a yearly basis than do guns.

I know some of you own guns, but this is something to think about … rational thinking seldom applies on a hot button subject like this.  Recently in Mississippi they took a bus load of kids to the police station for throwing smores at each other, and then charged them with assault.

Handcuffed a kid to a railing for not wearing a belt to school and believe it or not, suspended a kindergartner for “just talking about a TOY gun.”

Overkill, pure and simple. When will the “sane people” come onboard and register in with some pure rational thinking on this matter?  Public opinion seems at best a little bit off and media attention is at the point of just give them up, the world will be a better place.

And “if frogs had wings … well you know the rest.”

Even my wife, has breached the subject and was wanting a gun (not a good idea) and now is dead set on a stun gun or a taser.  Which I find lacking, first it allows the predator in close and I don’t like that at all.  Then there is the somewhat remote outside chance I could really irritate her … but we won’t go there, as I am determined that this is going to be a “serious piece.”

If you don’t have a gun, here’s a more humane way to wreck someone’s evil plans for you. Wasp Spray, available just about anywhere, added bonus, no permit required, open carry if you wish.  Did you know this? I didn’t.  I never really thought of it before. I guess I can get rid of the Louisville Slugger (baseball bat).

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Give some serious consideration to … Wasp Spray

We heard of a lady who is a receptionist in a church in a high risk area was concerned about someone coming into the office on Monday to rob them when they were counting the collection. She asked the local police department about using pepper spray and they recommended to her that she get a can of wasp spray instead.

The wasp spray, they told her, can shoot up to twenty feet away and is a lot more accurate, while with the pepper spray, they have to get too close to you and could overpower you. The wasp spray temporarily blinds an attacker until they get to the hospital for an antidote. She keeps a can on her desk in the office and it doesn’t attract attention from people like a can of pepper spray would. She also keeps one nearby at home for home protection. Thought this was interesting and might be of use.

On the heels of a break in and beating that left an elderly woman in Toledo dead, self defense experts have a tip that could save your life.  Val Glinka teaches self-defense to students at Sylvania Southview High School. For decades, he’s suggested putting a can of wasp and hornet spray near your door or bed.

Glinka says, “This is better than anything I can teach them.”

Glinka considers it inexpensive, easy to find, and more effective than mace or pepper spray. The cans typically shoot 20 to 30 feet; so if someone tries to break into your home, Glinka says “spray the culprit in the eyes”. It’s a tip he’s given to students for decades. It’s also one he wants everyone to hear. If you’re looking for protection, Glinka says look to the spray. “That’s going to give you a chance to call the police; maybe get out.” Maybe even save a life.  Please share this with all the people who are precious to your life.

Did you also know that wasp spray will kill a snake? And a mouse! It will!  Good to know, huh?  If someone comes at you and you fear for your safety let them have it right in the face.  They can work it out with the cops at the hospital later.

Now here is the other shoe hitting the floor.  If you own a gun, put two or three rounds in ‘em, stick a hammer in their hand, and then call 911.  Like Dr. Phil sez … That works for me.

Have a good weekend, you worked hard for it, enjoy.

OOO

Most popular reads at Creative Endeavors this week:

Home page / Archives  
Bikinis (The reason men are pigs)  
Lock N Load  
Clear Blue Sky  
Things Are Lousy In Jurupa Valley, CA  
Dinosaurs and Progressive Liberal Democrats  
Goin With The Flow  
Sneak Into America (audio)  
The Worry Tree  
Flu Ride (Audio)

The Last Word (Not Really)

01-22-13 Inauguration

Really Bad Joke:  I noted that Obama used Martin Luther Kings’ Bible on the swearing in ceremony the other day.  This guy has trashed more bible parables and guidelines than any other guy in recent history.  Nothing is sacred, now Kings’ bible has been thrown into the mix, instead of a treasured piece of history, it is now relegated to nothing more than another prop in this circus show.

Just In Time:  Today I received my Fiscal Cliff Survival Pack from the White House.  It contained a parachute, a ‘Obama Hope & Change’ bumper sticker, a ‘Bush’s Fault’ poster, a ‘Blame Boehner’ poster, a “Tax the Rich’ poster, an application for unemployment, an application for food stamps, a prayer rug, a letter of assignation of debt to my grandchildren and a machine to blow smoke up my a**.  All directions were in Spanish.

 Keep an eye out.  Yours should arrive soon..

Not Much Better In Canada:  The Alberta Department of Labor, Division of Labor Standards claimed a small rancher was not paying proper wages to his help and sent an agent out to investigate.

AGENT: I need a list of your employees and how much you pay them. 

RANCHER: Well, there’s my hired hand who’s been with me for 3 years. I pay him $200 a week plus free room and board.

Then there’s the mentally challenged guy.

He works about 18 hours every day and does about 90% of all the work around here.

He makes about $10 per week, pays his own room and board, and I buy him a bottle of bourbon every Saturday night so he can cope with life.  He also sleeps with my wife occasionally.

AGENT: That’s the guy I want to talk to – the mentally challenged one.

RANCHER: That would be me.

It is all in the way you think:  Whew! What a relief to learn this  …  Ever walk into a room with some purpose in mind, only to completely forget what that purpose was?  Turns out, doors themselves are to blame for these strange memory lapses. Psychologists at the University of Notre Dame have discovered that passing through a doorway triggers what’s known as an event boundary in the mind, separating one set of thoughts and memories from the next. Your brain files away the thoughts you had in the previous room and prepares a blank slate for the new locale.  It’s not aging, it’s the **** door! 

Thank goodness for studies like this.  I had erroneously believed that my trigger was in my rear.  No seriously, I would walk all the way up to the barn, stand there like some kind of lost goose, and never figure out what it was that I walked up there for.  Then I would walk all the way back to the house, and sit down … And pow!  It came to me!  So naturally I figured my trigger was in my rear, turns out it wasn’t there at all.

The Last Word: In a recently held linguistic competition held in London attended by the best in the world, Samsundar Balgobin, a Guyanese man from Bachelors Adventure, was the clear winner with a standing ovation lasting over 5 minutes. His final question was this … How to explain the difference between COMPLETE and FINISHED in a way that is easy to understand. Some say there is no difference between “these two words”.

Here is his answer which made him receive an invitation to dine with the Queen who decided to call him after the contest. He won a trip to travel the world in style and a case of 25 year old Eldorado rum for his answer. 

His astute answer:   “When you marry the right woman, you are COMPLETE. And when you marry the wrong woman, you are FINISHED. When the right one catches you with the wrong one, you are COMPLETELY FINISHED!”

Hang in there … weekend is just around the corner.

OOO

Cartoon courtesy of American Progress.Org

I’ll Drink To That …

Last week I noticed a lot of traffic on my site directed to the bus related items (over there on the right) so it appears that some bus guys are wandering around the garden, grabbing the low hanging fruit and taking some of it home, which is okay, that is what it is there for.

It is a lot better reading than this tripe I discovered quite by accident on Craig’s List the other day.  A poorly written missive and a testament to the stupidity of bus drivers in this country.  This sadly is often read by the public and helps no one in particular.  

 Here is the cleaned up version.

Yesterday after reading that I got to thinking about how stupid bus people appear to be.  Right now there is a huge concentration of them in the desert out in Arizona, Quartzite, a little burg that no one ever heard of, but once a year swells to a population of well over 100,000 people.  The majority of them bus owners.  A rite of passage, some people never miss it, kind of like the “Burning Man” for the well equipped or resourceful, desert dwellers of the Stainless Steel variety.

All of them dry-camped in the desert, gathering around campfires at night, lying about how much money they paid for their bus, what good fuel mileage they get and flea market shopping under a huge tent during the day for the latest Chinese Junk.

Having just finished Arcadia, Florida (another famous once a year bus rally), they are all set for the Bureau of Land Management Experience.  Which I find somewhat amusing, sitting around in a dust bowl and doing mainly nothing.

 Here is another stupid thing bus people do.

 They all get on the Internet boards and announce essentially to the world “where they are, where they are going, and when they will return.”  Not very smart, very convenient if you are a bus person burglar, you have just told everyone you know (and quite a few that you do not know):

 YOU ARE NOT HOME … COME ON OVER AND GET MY STUFF.

Why people do this is a true mystery to me.  With the Internet it seems that there are no secrets left in society anymore …. full disclosure.  So in the spirit of the post … Here is a little more.

Another club we used to belong to would hold one or two meetings a year.  I found it somewhat curious that members from the East coast would show up with “fresh moonshine whiskey” and they would distribute it to a few members in attendance.  

Of course they never referred to it as “shine” or anything like that, it was always called “spring water” or some other misnomer.  Later on they regaled in announcing to the entire world on their respective blogs and websites their indulgence in a practice that is clearly illegal in most states and nationwide.  

 Bootlegging.  

A strange part of the bus culture, is that bus people also have this other quirky thing they do, they get on the internet and tell everyone how the trip home went, and announce to no one in particular that they are now safely back at the abode.  (They also comment on other buses on the road … calling these reports sightings … and wondering who it might be?)  Which brings us to this interesting fact, everyone seems oblivious to.

If you were a “government Revenue man” as they put it back in the hardwoods of Tennessee, Kentucky, and West – By – God – Virginia, it wouldn’t take long to figure out the members were indeed drinking shine, distributing it and transporting it all across state lines, tax free.  Which would raise up a red flag quickie pronto.  

 Someone of course “has to be making it” and that friends is a tad bit illegal.

You could be looking at a considerable jail time and fines, varying specifically by your state. But you are looking at a fine of $10,000 and up to five years in jail for only one offense of making moonshine (even if you don’t sell it). Doing a little research on the subject I found a GA man faced 35 years in prison for making and selling moonshine.  

 (Well, what else are you going to do while she is watching American Idol?)

The reason the fines are so steep is because the federal government strictly regulates the process, and gets over $2 worth of tax for every 750mL bottle of liquor, as opposed to 21 cents for a bottle of wine and 5 cents for a can of beer.  So do you really want to attend a meet, drink some shine with your buddies, and then go to jail?  

Not very smart, kind of makes me wonder if “membership is worth it” and is my attendance at some kind of function like this necessary or even considered a good idea?  Most of this simply does not apply in our case, as we gave up drinking a long time ago, because of alcohol sensitive prescription medicines.

Bottom line is I find it somewhat scary the whole idea.

As stupid as current government in this country seems to be here lately, I could be found guilty just by the mere fact that I am associated with this kind of nonsense.  So if you are new to the culture and you are looking around for a place to hang, might be a good idea to check out the people you are associated with at these things.

Don’t get me wrong, I freely leave you to draw your own conclusions.  Might also note that there are plenty of good bus groups out there, that operate just fine.  Just remember this … You lay down with a dog, you are going to come up smelling like one, and it makes no difference to the government.

They want your cash, your a**, your bus, and assets, you in turn, get bunk beds for the next five to ten.

Watch those right-handers

OOO

Highway 17 (Lifted from Craigslist)

Stumbled upon this the other day,  draw your own conclusions.

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First of all, I’d like to compliment you all on the quality and quantity of your middle fingers.  I realize I am widely despised and considered by many of you to be a selfish, clueless, dangerous [expletive] of a road hazard. I understand where you are coming from. Even if you are a greedy, spoiled, impatient piece of [expletive]. I understand.

Let me address a couple of specific issues. 

1. The fast lane, or as it is known in “the business,” the Number One Lane. 

Why in bloody [expletive], some of you wonder, would a [expletive] bus be using the fast lane southbound between 280 and Los Gatos, when it can’t travel much over 70 mph (MAX) on a downhill grade, and moves like a snail on the uphill? Well, it’s like this: I am trying to avoid the [expletive] merges that occur throughout that stretch. The road is full of really bad drivers, as you know… and while a passenger car might stand a chance of swerving or accelerating or braking out of trouble, not me. I need to stay out of the way of that [expletive]. If a merging idiot cuts me off and I have to decelerate on an even a slight uphill grade, there will be peace in the Middle East before I can get back up to the speed limit. I know you are [expletive] off that I am keeping you from speeding your [expletive] off for a few minutes, but if I get stuck in the Idiot Merge and have to slow down, then you will see some really serious traffic blockage while I hold the throttle pedal to the floor and wait for the bus to resume any forward motion. I know you don’t give a [expletive] about that because you can drive better than James Bond and would easily bust through the jam with amazing technique, but next time you might be a minute or two behind me… then you will taste some serious inconvenience and delay because some [expletive] such as yourself didn’t let me just keep up enough momentum to get out of the way as soon as possible.

2. Speaking of merging: 

Look here, the bus has basically two modes; floored and stopped. When floored, the actual speed depends entirely on grade and momentum. When I am coming down a ramp to merge onto the highway, I am [expletive] FLOORING IT, ok? I am trying to get as close to the flow of traffic as possible. Maybe you are in the right land and see me up ahead, preparing to merge and signaling left. You could do a couple of things. You could slow down and let me in, which I would appreciate but certainly not expect of you. Or, probably even better, you could put your [expletive] foot in it and blast cleanly around me and make good your escape. But either way, you gotta [expletive] or get off the pot. Please do not hover back there in my blind spot, spitting and cussing and wondering when I’m going to make my move. Guess what? You are already seeing my move. I am signaling left and standing on the throttle with my full weight. You’re the one in the vehicle that actually has a choice to go faster. I realize that sometimes I am getting in your way. Really, I’m sorry about that, but if you make me slow down because I can’t tell where you are … well, then we’re going to see how badly I can make traffic back up. The rule of thumb is this: Do what traffic expects you to do. That means do not come to a screeching halt on the freeway because you think I’ll cut in front of you, or because you are such a sweetheart that you are willing to [expletive] 5 miles of commuters behind you so that I can creep into traffic. Just drive. Do what traffic expects. If you can just carry on at your same speed and zip right past me than please do so. On the the other hand, if you see me a half mile up ahead, signaling left and waiting waiting waiting to get over, and no one will budge, and I am getting dangerously close to the point of no return… please do not floor it when I finally get a little gap and you are several hundred yards back. We want the same thing, you and me. You want to get the [expletive] away from me and I also want you to do that.

Oh, and northbound, after the curvy part of 17, just after the Cats restaurant, where the first Los Gatos onramp comes in… I always grab the left lane anywhere I can get it after Lexington Reservoir and the Cats. The traffic merging onto the freeway at Los Gatos is deadly. Deadly and slow. Plus, there is another merge nightmare shortly thereafter as people try and remember whether they want 85 or not… or start reading their map to see what 85 even is. I don’t want 85. I want to stay away from everyone who is wrapped up in the spiritual dilemma over whether to take it or not. That means one thing and one thing only: Left Lane. Please keep in mind… I am not trying to block your way. I just need to maintain my speed long enough to get around all that [expletive]. As usual, if I get caught in it, I’ll become a much bigger pain in the [expletive] while I try and get back up to speed over the next 20 minutes. 

3. Lane changes/passing other vehicles 

Same deal. Believe it or not, there are vehicles on the road even slower than the Hwy17 bus. Usually they are big rigs, construction trailers, out-of-town first-times (on this road) doing the White Knuckler… and sometimes they are just terrified little idiots who refuse to believe that the posted speed limit is to be trusted. If I get caught behind this stuff on the uphill… forget it. I’ll be slowing up the traffic for a long time If you see me on the downhill, signaling left, please let me get around them. I can do it going downhill, and I PROMISE to get the [expletive] back in the slow lane immediately.

I hope this clears up some confusion. It is a treacherous road, and can be unbearably frustrating when you are in a hurry. Please keep in mind that my bus is not the only thing out there jamming up traffic. In fact, I’ll jam it up less if given just a little room. At least I am aware of the situation and aware of the need to try and stay out of the way when I can’t go fast, and to keep things flowing when I can. 

Oh, and to the woman in the dirty Subaru Outback with the Montessori bumper sticker… you really need to quit biting your nail on that middle finger. Your Bird-Flippng technique is flawless, but that fingernail is disgusting. Next time I see it (probably tomorrow) I want to see it neatly trimmed. 

  • Location: HWY 17
  • it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

1440 words that basically say nothing.  People who use language like this on the Internet or anywhere else, are moron’s … Plain and simple.  Those who find “humor in it” are sadly, just as bad.  A quick check around found it on several bus boards and great many bus guys found this amusing and/or interesting.  Some even stopped just short of calling it a literary masterpiece.

 This poorly written diatribe laced with excessive profanity, serves only one purpose (that I can see) and that is to remind me of ALL THE THINGS that should NOT be done when trying to convey a point or an idea.  It also serves as a reminder of why it was that I stopped writing and reading bus boards altogether.

 When you stop to consider that the face of America is rapidly changing, and soon 68% of our population will be of other races and orgins of other countries.  A great many of these folks are learning how to drive for the first time in their lives, the caliber of drivers on the highways of this country has changed in the past five years, and will continue to change in the near future.

Bottom line … Get used to it.

OOO

Related:  I’ll Drink To That