I Can't Make Up My Mind

That's right, today I'm angry because I can't make up my mind. I can't make up my mind which hippie most deserves a beating. I've been reading the promotional paper for the upcoming hippie "expo" again (I believe it's called something like "Fleece the desperate gullible fools for all they're worth" or was it "Bullshitapalooza '06"?)

Anyway, working my way through, I stumble across an article headed "Why you chose your partner". I'm perfectly happy to accept that a hippie might have some advice for a balanced relationship so I read on. There is apparently a "hidden reason" you picked your partner. Doubtless the hippie is about to share their wisdom of what this reason is, so I read on. It seems it's all to do with wanting to meet needs that weren't met when we were growing up. That seems reasonable.

Then we get this piece of wisdom: "All children go through stages of development - for instance being babies". Riiiiight. So the wisdom to be gathered here is that we were all once babies. *Phew* Lucky I read this or I might never have known. The we get some quotes from an authority on love whose name is -I'm not making this up- Pat Love. Pat Love has written a book called "The Truth About Love". Is suspect that the truth about Pat Love is that s/he is a lying shitbag who preys on vulnerable people by spouting meaningless generalist rubbish and charging them a fortune for the privilege.

Then the big question: Is there one thing all couples need to know? The answer: people need to know what love is. Well, Foreigner told us that years ago. I think these hippies owe them royalties. Then we get to the meat of the matter - your partner isn't wrong, you are. "Being the right partner is more important than finding the right partner." And for me, here is the money quote:

"What does your partner ask you to do that you continually reject?"

So now it's clear. This whole article is born out of the fact that hippie's partner won't go along with a suggestion that doubtless involves latex masks and strap-on dildoes. Sick hippie freaks.

Toilet Rules

A recent post by the very eloquent mixednuts explored the rather thorny issue of whether or not to wash one's hands after going to the toilet. I'm not above railing against toilet issues myself - especially toilet rules at work. In fact, it's only at work that it's an issue - after all what you do at home is your business.

The bizarre collection of unspoken toilet etiquette rules really does make me angry. Mainly because the damn rules are unspoken so nobody is ever sure what the rules are. Well, I'll tell you what they are in practice: when do men wash their hands? When somebody is watching. Come on guys, 'fess up: you only wash your hands if there is somebody to see that you didn't.

Mixednuts did wonder about how things may be different for males so I put a bit of thought into the issue and now I'm ready to provide a male perspective. One of the big questions she asked was:

"is the male schlong that clogged with microbes and viruses?"

Well, sad to say, the answer in some cases is probably "yes" but I can only speak for myself as I don't spend a lot of time inspecting other penises. In my case, I shower, put on my undies and for the rest of the day Mr Happy is protected - my dick is the cleanest part of my body. Assuming I don't have any "adventures" after my shower, the only thing that comes into contact with my dick after dressing is my own hands.

My original insight was that considering the filth my hands come into all day, it would make more sense to wash my hands before rather than after. My dick needs protection from the outside world, not the other way around. Then I noticed a guy at work actually doing this, so this is apparently not such a groundbreaking concept. Mind you, this same guy used a paper towel to open the door when leaving rather than touch it with his bare hand. I think he has issues.

So I have decided to take it to the next level. To show my confidence in my cleanliness, from now on if there is something that I want to be really clean I'm going to rub my dick all over it.

Hippies are Asking for it

You probably have a whole bunch of free weekly papers where you live, they seem to be universal. They cater for all sorts of things; music, entertainment, real estate, local news and art but they all really exist for the purpose of selling ads. Anything that isn't an ad is really only filler designed to give the paper an excuse to exist so they can sell ad space.

All well and good, capitalism must be served. I picked up one I hadn't seen the other day, an "holistic" magazine that gives its mission as "to inspire, nurture, inform and empower". Cool - the hippie press. Now, it should be blindingly obvious to even the most casual reader that I need some calming influence so I thought this paper might do me some good.

It starts off well enough - it has naked people reading in a park on the cover. I'm all for naked people. I start reading and it seems fine enough - going without your car, chronic fatigue, fairly predictable "bio-dynamic" products being advertised. Then I stumble across the headline "How intelligent is your food?"

Maybe they mean how intelligent are the choices you make regarding food? I read a bit. No, that isn't what they mean. Here are some actual quotes:

"Food contains intelligence."

"When we eat... we metabolise the life or intelligence of that food."

"The fresher the food the more intelligence it contains."

"Food can lose its intelligence the longer it sits around in the fridge."

And apparently this hippie didn't consider how much intelligence they lost sitting around on the couch taking bong hits.

The more of this outrageous drivel I read the more angry I became. Some might argue this is relatively harmless hippie waffle but these people are giving themselves titles like doctor, educator and, of course, swami. They pitch this unmitigated horseshit as the truth and make no mistake - hippie or not, it's all about the money.

This paper is all about promoting an "expo" on the last weekend of April in Melbourne when these charlatans will be trying to bilk as much money as possible out of gullible and desperate people. Want your cancer cure? We got it right here.

I will be spending quite a bit of time between now and then ripping into these quacks and idiots - there is a very dark underside to the commercialisation of this appalling non-science. They are even dumb enough to put their names and photos after the articles and in their advertisements. All I can say is they better not walk in front of my car while I'm driving.

Now, I'm not suggesting anyone should go out and inflict violence on these cretins - I think that's the army's job. But I'll be damned if I'll let this pre-medieval quackery go unchallenged.

My GPS Hates Me

One of my favourite toys is the GPS navigation thingie I got with my car. There are two main reasons I like it - obviously it helps me get places when I don’t know the right way to go. But my second favourite thing is taunting it when I do know the right way to go.

It has this neutral female voice that gives directions without any emotion or inflexion but I can’t help thinking that when I don’t take its advice it gets a bit narky at me. Maybe it’s my imagination but I feel a bit of an edge in its electronic voice when it says “route recaculation u-turn”. It seems to me, the unspoken part of that direction is “listen to me the next time you moron.”

I am quite convinced my GPS thinks its brain its more advanced than mine and it’s a waste of its talents to tell this talking monkey directions… So my little revenge is to tweak it by occasionally ignoring its direction and choosing my own route.

I have a definite image of the GPS in my mind when it talks to me. It looks very much like “Supernanny” on TV - very prim, hair tied back in a tight bun and wearing a black power suit. And it sooooo doesn’t like me. Hah! Damn GPS thinks it is so superior but it isn’t so great. Because of some glitch in its numbering for my street it doesn’t even know where my home is! I have to tell it the side street next to my place so it goes in the right direction.

I pity the fool machine that thinks it’s better than me!

Oh, and what did I get angry about today? Pedestrians. Knuckleheads who apparently think stepping in front of a tonne of moving metal is a good idea. Hey Einstein: you wanna commit suicide? Stay at home and drink some drano. Don’t involve me in your pathetic lives.

Explaining Myself

One of my readers pointed out to me I may have gone a little far with one of the phrases in my last post. She was was also kind enough to say the post was still funny which was nice. The phrase in question was "I hunt and I'm extremely likely to shoot you if you try to stop me owning enough guns to compensate for my impotence caused by a lifetime of sexual abuse from my father"

And of course, she was absolutely right. There's nothing remotely funny about child abuse. This post isn't an apology as in "sorry, I won't do it again". It's more an apology along the lines of "sorry for being so horrifically crass but the mental state I get in when I write these posts means it isn't possible to guarantee I won't write something worse in the future".

Full disclosure: that wasn't even the first thing I thought of writing. Originally it was going to be "...compensate for my tiny penis." But somehow that didn't seem angry enough. Ah well. The challenge lies in me finding ways to be angry, abusive and crass without belittling things that I think are important.

Fun and games.

Driving Me Crazy

Ahhhh, some days, this blog writes itself. Who am I kidding, it always writes itself. The whole reason for the Mr Angry persona is very simple: there are so many damn things that happen every day that make me angry!

I haven't ranted for a while about how crap other people's driving is and I had quite a bit of inspiration on the drive into work today. I'll narrow it down to the ones who virtually had a neon sign above them saying "I am a moron and deserve to be force fed cane toads until I choke."

First, another piece of evidence that 4WD drivers are evolutionary mistakes. I was stuck behind one today who decided they had to slow to an almost complete stop to go over a speed bump. In a 4WD. With about a metre ground clearance. And that stupid raised suspension that means I can never see past them.

I mean, I know these wankers are never taking their vehicles off-road - that goes with saying. But they're scared of a fucking speed hump? Jeebus on toast! You should be able to take a damn speed hump at 80 and not even feel it. Seriously, if you're scared of driving, STAY OFF THE FUCKING ROAD!

And the other flavour of idiot this morning. This one actually did have a sticker on his ute saying he was a moron. Well, what it actually said was "I hunt and I vote". Now, this type of sticker originated (I think) in the US and American readers may think I'm saying he's a moron solely for being a hunter. Not strictly true - it's the wording of the sticker that makes him a moron.

You see, this is Australia - voting is compulsory. Everbody votes. In votiong-optional countries, nutjob lobby groups can have a significant impact because if they can mobilise enough angry knuckle-draggers it's easier to have an effect because of lower voter turnout. Wimpy politicians are more likely to bow to pressure groups when the pressure group might mobilise otherwise apathetic voters into changing an election result.

Guess what? When voting is compulsory, the "I (whatever) and I vote" doesn't make any sense. Everybody votes! You might as well have a sticker reading "I sodomise wallabies and I vote". It's pointless! Have a sticker that makes sense, something like "I hunt and I'm extremely likely to shoot you if you try to stop me owning enough guns to compensate for my impotence caused by a lifetime of sexual abuse from my father" Now that will get some attention.

BTW: Both those stickers are copyrighted by me. If you print them up on stickers (or t-shirts or anything else) I will sue your arse for a million bucks.

Angry at Myself

So why am I angry at myself? Because I'm a big wuss. A namby-pamby scared to go for it girl's blouse.

To explain a little, I had been making one post a day for the last three weeks because I was worried I wouldn't be able to maintain more than that over the course of a year. Having set myself the arbitrary goal of posting every day for a year this seemed like the prudent thing to do. Seemed like it but now I've realised, can I really only manage to write one things a day?

Hell no.

So I will keep posting at least once a day but often more than that. And I have also decided to link to some of my favourite examples of angry on teh internets. Because we all know the reason the net exists is so we don't feel alone in our angriness.

To start off, here's a long angry essay on salon.com:

http://www.salon.com/books/review/2006/04/12/flanagan/index_np.html

You have to watch an ad to see the whole article, but it's worth it. It's an anti-anti-feminist rant - part of the ongoing "mommy wars" - so its heart is in the right place. And some damn fine examples of the angry. The money quote:

"But I guess I learned something new about myself in this process: Apparently I am tough enough to kick someone with cancer, but only after feeling bad about it for a while."

Damn, I wish I'd said that about someone who pissed me off.

Medical Science Marches Forward

OK, so a change of topic may have been well overdue. I have just read that one Professor David Henry from the University of Newcastle in NSW, Australia will be presenting at a medical conference on “disease mongering”. I don’t understand this concept, nor am I angered by it.

What caught my eye is that Professor Henry will be unveiling his diagnosis for Motivational Deficiency Disorder (MoDeD). This condition is characterised by patients experiencing overwhelming and debilitating apathy. If this doesn’t sound serious to you, get this: in extreme cases the patient may be too apathetic to breathe! That’s right people, we have another potentially fatal disease to be paranoid about.

Fortunately, a drug treatment is being developed. It is called Indolebant and the science boffins say it is a cannabinoid CB1 receptor antagonist capable of motivating the most apathetic of individuals – even if they haven’t left the couch in weeks. This condition has been estimated to cost the Australian economy about $2.4 billion (that’s Australian money – so about $2.50 US) each year in lost productivity so it can’t be ignored.

Fortunately, the condition can be diagnosed using a combination of positron emission tomography and scoring the patient using a motivation scale. We can only hope that this poorly understood, underdiagnosed and undertreated condition can be brought squarely into the public eye.

Why, you may ask, is Mr Angry so angry about this? I’m bloody angry this diagnosis didn’t exist when I was in school. It’s the perfect explanation for why I was such a lazy little bastard.

And for any cynics out there, this was reported in the prestigious British Medical Journal (April 1st edition) so it must be true.

A Roman Adventure

For those who wonder why the misuse of “decimate” makes me so angry, imagine the current misconception of the word’s meaning transposed to it’s origins. I’m talking about a group of ten legionaries marching through hostile territory. Suddenly *thwack* one of them is felled by an arrow.

Brutus looks down at his fallen comrade and says “Oh no, we’ve been decimated.” And his mate Cassius looks at the one dead guy... let’s call him Flavius, I think it helps the story come alive when the characters have names. Not to mention I prefer to be on a first name basis with anyone living in my head.

Anyway, Cassius looks down at Flavius and says: “What, that’s it? One dead guy and we’re decimated? Really? I mean, the way everyone always goes on about being decimated I thought it would be way worse. Of course, it didn’t work out too well for Flavius but this decimated thing isn’t too bad.

“I used to lie awake at night worrying about us being decimated and now here we are, decimated, and nine out of ten of us are fine and dandy.”

And yes, I’m sure Roman legionaries used words like “dandy”.

Back to the Point

Now I remember the point I was trying to make, proving that misusing word is universal. And also proving how bad my obsessive-compulsive disorder has become. I may have mentioned before I choose to focus my anger on small things. You wanna know the one that really irks me when people misuse it?

Decimate.

People are always using it when they mean devastated, annihilated, almost wiped out. You know where it comes from? The Roman imperial army organised everything in multiples of ten. You know what decimated literally means? It means the loss of one in ten of your forces.

Ten per cent.

Not ninety per cent, not three quarters, not even half. One in ten. Why do I hear the Foo Fighters in my head at the moment?. Anyway, so when I hear a newsreader say “The tsunami decimated the coastal villages,” I want them to clarify:

“Do you mean ten per cent of the buildings were destroyed?”

“Oh no, virtually all of them.”

“Oh, so not decimated, more like devastated or wiped out. But not decimated because that would mean only one in ten.” (I often have conversations with my TV.)

“Yes, but everybody knows what decimated means...”

Well, no. Apparently they don’t, least of all you. That’s my bloody point!

What the hell is wrong with you people?

Fair and Balanced

I think it’s about time I pointed out I’m not anti-American. Anti-moron yes, but that doesn’t mean anti-American by default. True, a significant portion of the American population displays moron-like behaviour, but they’re hardly unique in that. From my observation the problem is world-wide. There’s a lot of reflexive anti-Americanism and I think that’s just childish. I’d much rather target morons – wherever they may be.

And my pet bugbear about using the wrong word happens often enough right here in my own back yard. I can’t emphasise how angry this behaviour makes me and people do it all the time without thinking. I can’t work out if it’s because they’re lazy or stupid. Worst of all is when the media do it. The supposedly authoritative newsreader uses a word wrong then everyone thinks it’s OK to do it.

It doesn’t work that way people.

If everyone does the wrong thing, it’s still wrong. I almost used the Hitler analogy there but if I did, according to Godwin’s Law I’d automatically lose the argument. But the point is, you could all bite the heads off kittens and drink their blood together but that wouldn’t make it right.

Ray Martin could go on prime time TV naked, rub faeces all over his body and dedicate a human sacrifice to his dark lord, the many-headed beast Shoggoth and that wouldn’t make it right. Actually, it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s the sort of thing Ray does in his spare time.

In fact, here’s a tip: if Ray Martin says it, does it, thinks it – it’s probably wrong. No matter what the Channel 9 publicity department would have you believe.

Now I’ve forgotten what the hell my original point was.

Recognise the Differences

I know I'm flogging this topic a bit but I have one more point to make. The using of the wrong words is bad enough but what really made me angry when I was in the US was people who couldn't conceive of anyone thinking differently to them. The fact that the original word existed before they came up with their brilliant idea to use it for something else doesn't even register.

"Whut? Y'all sayin' somewhere else can tell America whut tuh do? What are you? Some kinda Ayrab-commie-tehrist?"

Like this time I was in Vegas with a local and I got distracted by the flashing lights and almost walked into a telegraph pole. And I actually said "Whoa, I almost hit that telegraph pole." And he stares at the pole for a while, clearly wondering what I'm talking about, then he gets this big shit-eating grin and says to me like I'm about 5 years old (and not the brightest 5 year old in the kindergarten either) :

"Dude, we have this new invention called the telephone. We don't communicate by telegraph any more, this is a telephone pole."

Smart bastard.

There's no answering that while maintaining dignity so I said: "Shut up and get me to the pony express office. I gotta drop off this postcard before the rider leaves."

The Tipping Point

No, nothing about Malcolm Gladwell here (although read his site - his insights are very interesting), I just want to post a little warning about taking word misuse too far. Let me tell you about a little biscuit/scone incident in the good old USA that almost tipped me over the edge.

I was in a cake shop and they were selling what would be called rock cakes in Australia. Basically big, chunky oversize biscuits (cookies) in a mound-like shape. And what did they call them? ...scones!

SCONES!

I swear, I almost jumped the counter and strangled them. This is the sort of thing we need to take a stand on. You can't go around swapping words whenever you feel like it. I can't say it often enough!

And they treat you like you're the crazy one when you point it out to them... by bashing their face against a glass cabinet. That is not a fucking scone! If anything, that's a biscuit! This thing over here, this light, fluffy thing, THIS is a scone! Get it right goddamit!

What the hell is wrong with you people?

Use the Proper Words!

I’m serious, just learn the proper words. I’m not talking about slang, I’m not even talking about the rather creative way rappers keep inventing words – that’s fine, people make up new words all the time. It’s a living language.

But taking a perfectly good word that already has an accepted meaning and changing it arbitrarily, that’s just wrong. A sin against nature. And I found when I visited the states, If I use a word correctly instead of following the American vernacular everyone looked at me like I was the weird one. And you know the one word that really got to me? The one word that was guaranteed to make me angry?

Biscuits.

I’m not talking about how Americans insist on calling them cookies. Like I said, I’m all for making up new words. Call them cookies, eaties, jabberwockies, I don’t care. Snoop Dogg can call them bizzles mah nizzles – it’s all good.

So, they call biscuits cookies, but THEN they call scones biscuits. You can’t do that! What the hell is wrong with you people? “Biscuits” already has a definition. You can’t go around randomly reassigning words – the fragile threads that hold society together will snap! We’re all going to descend into a pit of anarchy because the goddam Americans can’t use the English language properly.

I’m serious – it’s the first sign of the Apocalypse: randomly reassigning words. It’s all there in Revelations. Structured language is what separates us from the beasts people.

We lose that and it’s all downhill from then on.

Seriously, I'm not Angry About Politics

I mean it... in the past I was angry about politics but that's all behind me. Although I do have one question for American voters:

What the hell is wrong with you people?

Why do you love draft dodgers so much? Seriously, it seems like that's the case. Look at the evidence: George Bush Snr - war veteran, combat pilot. Bill Clinton - dope smoking draft dodger. And more recently: John Kerry - decorated war veteran. Bush Jnr - coke snorting, drink-driving, womanising draft dodger!

I actually expect politicians to be politicians to be two-faced, double-dealing liars but even I have my limits. Sometimes I just wanna smack that stupid monkey smirk right off Bush's face. "Ah'm a wah pezzident!" Yeah, right. All that motherfucker knows about war is how to stay as far away from the gunfire as possible.

As easy as it would be to be angry at all Americans for fucking up the world, that's too big for me to deal with. Besides, they not all responsible for what their government does. So I've decided to be angry about something I can focus on. I'm going after Americans for something they're all guilty of...

It's about time someone called these goddam Americans to account for the continual, wilful and malicious desecration of the English language.

More on this later.

I'm not angry about politics

I used to be angry about politics but then, well, shit just got too big. I grew up a lefty and things used to be easy: what were you angry about? Whatever America was doing. What was your political view? The opposite of American foreign policy. So lefties had it easy; just spend all your time complaining about the American government of the day.

Those damn Americans! Interfering in other countries, overthrowing governments, supporting dictators, using too many resources, blah blah blah blah blah. Life was good for an angry lefty in the good old days.

That was then.

These days, American foreign policy seems to amount to “we are going to bomb the fuck out of whoever we like and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it.” And what’s the justification? “Fuck you”. That’s the justification. “What are you gonna do about it you whiny little bitch? Nothin’, that’s what. Fuck you!”

Sovereign country that is no military threat to the US? “Fuck you!” Against international law? “Fuck you!” Not actually responsible for 9/11? “Fuck you!” “Makin’ fun of me b’cos I say ‘nucular’? Fuck you!”

I have to admit I’m not so much angry as amazed that Republicans tend to go ballistic when you say Bush is dumb. No matter how obvious it is. You’re like the kid in the fairytale: “Look, the emperor has no brains!” If you dare to point out that he can’t, you know… speak, they call you “elitist”. “You’re just being an elitist, people love his common touch. How would a moron become president?”

Well, actually, that’s my question.

Seriously, expecting basic mastery of the English language makes me an elitist? Expecting the “leader of the free world” to not be the dumbest motherfucker in the room makes me an elitist? And I mean any room in the world; he’s gonna be the dumbest motherfucker there. I’m an elitist for expecting competence? Yeah? Well fuck it. I’m there. I’m an elitist. Screw your pathetic knuckle-dragging monkey boy arse, Bush! You suck! All you right-wing psychos at least put up someone who can make intelligent noises if you want me to back you up when you bomb civilians.

Bosses: How Angry Are You Making Your Staff?

I was discussing the various anger-inducing boss traits with former team member (FTM) and how we both continue to rank job incidents by how they compare to the truly hellish work environment we shared a few years ago. We have a scoring system named after our former boss which I probably shouldn’t use here.

The odds against her ever reading this are astronomically high, but a more realistic issue is that using her name would make it easier to identify me. Given that there is a very small/incestuous job market in this city for contract IT workers and given that I’m likely to slander more people as time goes by, I think it’s best that I stay anonymous.

So in looking for a substitute for her name, the first thing that sprang to mind was “Satan”. But I think this name is taken.

I’ve decided to go with “Croc” as a reference, as in “that was a real Croc statement”, “I’m having a Croc of a day”, “That scores a 7.8 on the Croc meter”. For those who don’t know, a crocodile kills you by grabbing you in its jaws so you can’t escape then rolling repeatedly in the water until you drown or your spine snaps. That is what dealing with a bad boss always feels like to me so Croc seems apt.

So for all aspiring bosses, here are some sure fire ways to make your workers angry:

• Giving no clear direction ahead of time but not hesitating to tell people they are wrong afterwards: Score 5 on the croc meter
• Going through endless iterations/document reviews without ever committing to a decision: Score 7.5 on the croc meter
• Saying something is wrong when it was your suggestion in the first place: Score 9 on the croc meter
• Denying that the error was yours in the first place, even when the canny worker has preserved a paper trail to prove this: Congratulations, a perfect 10

Maintain this sort of behaviour and you will be guaranteed hordes of angry, bitter, resentful workers. Then you just have to focus on crushing their spirit so they don’t have the will to leave or challenge you. The perfect way to a compliant, low-achieving workforce who will never be a threat to you.

Articulate Anger

Ahhhhh, nothing quite like a restful Sunday. Relaxing to the sound of running water that turns out to be running down your hallway because the shower drain has been transported to a parallel universe where instead of draining water away, it has become a fountain which is flooding your home.

Oh the joys of living in an apartment block are never-ending, and shared plumbing is just one of these joys. See, when I noticed my shower wasn’t draining properly I stopped showering thus avoiding disaster. This was all for naught when the upstairs neighbour emptied their bath and thus hundreds of litres of water rush down the same blocked hundred year old pipe, hit the blockage and spurt back up to the lowest release point: my shower.

The joys of seeing water cascading towards all your electrical appliances aren’t easy to express, although I tried yesterday. So after paying $500 to get an emergency plumber to come out the source of the problem is fixed and things aren’t going to get any worse. The trouble is, 75% of the carpets in my flat are soaked which is pretty damn bad already. And I have to talk to the real estate agent today to deal with that and get my $500 back.

The fact that I am entirely blameless in this and have already been through huge amounts of stress should have absolutely no effect on the real estate agent. I’m sure they’ll keep things simple and blame me. These are paragons of virtue I place on about the same rung as car dealers and truck drivers.

Oh joy, I have such a week to look forward to!

Inarticulate Rage

Shitfuckpissbuggerbighairyratsballscockbite.

More on this development tomorrow.

Angry at Apologists

While I've got a head of steam about truck drivers let me just say there's one platitude I actually subscribe to: if you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. Don't tell me about how these hardworking "professional drivers" are what keeps this country running. There are plenty of freight alternatives that don't involve having to deal with psychotic speed freaks every time I drive

If you are the exception, you’re a hardworking, honest driver who’s never obnoxious, never abusive and never endangers the life of innocent people...

I don’t care.

You go out there and change the 98% of arsehole truck drivers who deserve to be hated. Until then, stop blaming the victims and try fixing the real problem. How hard is that to understand? The problem isn’t that most people hate truck drivers, the problem is that most truck drivers are soul-less pigfuckers.

In my humble opinion.