I am not a violent man. Or at least, not that
violent. Nonetheless, some things can rouse me to an incandescent rage. To take one example, attempting to set up my new HD cable box, courtesy of Comcast. Yeah, that was three hours of fun.
A step below of the "incandescent rage inducing" are the mere "pet peeves". Take personalised license plates. Based upon my rough gathering of empirical evidence, approximately 99.9999999999999999999% of personalised license plates are evidence of rampant douchebaggery, or at the very least are incredibly lame. There are exceptions, but not many.
Just outside the office building in which I am incarcerated daily there is a horseshoe driveway allowing access for FedEx trucks and the like. It is also used by people to park their cars and race into Starbucks and/or FedEx Kinko's, despite the "no standing" signs everywhere. In an effort to combat this standing menace a tow truck routinely patrols the premises, ensnaring any citizen's car unlucky enough to be unprotected during the truck's rounds. The tow truck driver's favourite gambit is to begin making off with its prey just as the unsuspecting driver races up to protest. At this stage a dance of extortion commences, with the tow truck driver releasing its unwilling cargo for an on-the-spot fee. As a counter-gambit, cars that dare to thumb their nose at the imperious signs huddle together, bumper to bumper, protecting all but the cars at the head or tail of the queue. This reminds me of large beasts on the Serengeti, huddling together to try and protect themselves from the approach of a wily predator.
This morning as I stepped out of my corporate prison for my daily exercise, I noticed a single car huddling behind a delivery truck, as it's owner embarked on some mundane chore. The car in question? A dark blue Jaguar, with the personalised license plate "HARVARD". Almost giddy with excitement I staked out the scene, wondering if the person who dared to display the equivalent of a "KICK ME" sign on their car would be caught out by the tow truck. Normally I feel sorry for those who fall afoul of the tow truck's car-thirst, but this time my feelings were purely aligned with the aggressor.
Unfortunately my hopes were dashed when the owner of the douchemobile returned to his vehicle, fleeing the scene before his natural enemy (well, one that didn't go to Yale) appeared. Disappointed, I plodded back into my jail, exercise time over.
I bet Mr "HARVARD" is still a douche, though. His time will come.