A Day in the Life of Chaos

The dreaded time has arrived.  Frankly it is one of the most dreaded moments in a parents life.  It is scarier than birth, more worrisome than marriage.  Harder than saying good bye as your child packs his bags and heads off to college.  No, all of those pale in comparison.  It is the moment when your child learns how to drive.  In America long ago we sold our soul to the devil.  In most societies driving is something optional that is eventually worked into as life and budgets permit.  People move with mass transit and trains.  America decided in the 1950's that we were not going to be this kind of society.  We were, and are a society of unchained freedom in love of the open road.  We should be the ones to decide where and when to go, not some transit planner. I wonder if the people that made those decisions ever thought about their kids? The result of our liberation from the transit ties that once bound us was ultimate captivity for the aged and the young.  This occurs whe

Today I was on my way to work driving my blue Nissan Cube 25 miles an hour down a four lane street.  In front of me there was a work truck with a large sticker in the window that said "OBAMA" with a communist hammer and sickle and a subscript saying, "United Socialist States of America." On the radio President Obama was giving a speech talking about wanting to create more jobs and save the middle class.  Suddenly I look to my side and see a giant F-something pickup truck changing lanes on top of me.  With inches to spare I honked my horn jammed on my breaks and he pulled off only to finish his merge in front of me.  I noticed the driver had a cellular telephone on his ear.  He turned, looked at me and gave some pathetic I am sorry wave.  I lowered my window and yelled out without obscenity, "GET OFF THE PHONE!" The man responded by turning, flipping me the bird and yelling back, "WELL FUCK YOU THEN!"  He then resumed talking on his phone. W

SC EYR314   The image of the license plate seared in my brain.  Moments before as I was cruising in my Nissan Cube on my way to work.  I was exceeding the speed limit tailing another vehicle about thirty feet in front of me.  Suddenly a convertible yellow Chrysler Crossfire appeared behind me.  It was driven by a woman in her late 50's with a terrible scowl on her face.  It was a kind of nasty sneer framed by leather skin from years of smoking.  The woman screamed lake money and the accompanying arrogance.   I didn't give her a second thought until a flash of light from her headlights drew my attention.  I glanced in the rear view mirror to see her waving her hand with futility in the air joined by a look of frustration.  Her lips were pursed like a constipated person trying to produce a bowel movement.   Puta (bitch/whore) I thought to myself as she continued her display contorting her face and flashing her lights again. What would she have me do, drive into the back of the