Thursday, May 20, 2010

"Hey, that f*&ker cut me off!"

"Did you see that?"

"What?"

"That fucker cut me off!"

"So?"

"Huh?"

"So, that fucker cut you off, what does it matter?"

"What doe sit matter? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"what the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you? You've got your panties all bunched up because some "fucker" cut you off. What does it matter?"

"How can you even ask that?"

"It's easy. What does it matter? Did you get in an accident?"

"No."

"Did you even really come close? Did you even have to step on the brake?"

"Well, no..But..."

"But what? Are in NASCAR now? Are we in some sort of cross country rally for 10 million dollars?"

"No."

"Then who the fuck cares if that fucker cut you off? Why let it affect you? So, they are now ahead of you. What, were you not done reading the bumper stickers of the car was previously in front of you? Have you not figured out what clever phrase was hidden in their vanity license plate?"

"No, I just..."

"Okay then. Put your dick away, and play some Joe Strummer will you, for fuck's sake?"

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