tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12607469.post-21281458841321986652008-06-29T18:38:00.000-05:002008-06-29T18:41:11.952-05:00<span style="font-family: verdana;">In the last week, I have gone without a single reason to rant. The only reason I for a rant was diminished by the fact that the person who hit my car so perfectly fit two driver stereotypes that there is no point in even going there.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><br />In fact the driver so perfectly fit the stereotypes, I have started saying, “you know ‘who’ the driver was,” to people who ask me about it. So far everyone has said something to the effect of, “how <span style="font-weight: bold;">‘</span> *$^*# <span style="font-weight: bold;">’</span> was <span style="font-weight: bold;">‘</span> $@! <span style="font-weight: bold;">’</span>?” (typing in symbols is tough – you never know where the ‘word’ ends and punctuation begins – but if you read carefully, you know what the symbols mean!) And so far, everyone has filled in the blanks correctly.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><br />As a result, a rant on the subject of *$^*# drivers is pointless.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><br />I’ve written about the song “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist” from the musical Avenue Q before. One line says “racist jokes my be uncouth, but we laugh because they’re based on truth.” The dent in my car is proof positive, but it has been so often repeated, the gag is no longer funny.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><br />Meanwhile, my car has an ouchie. Actually, it is barely a boo-boo, but I feel much less macho driving around in imperfection.</span>Rustyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01826454546003053870noreply@blogger.com