Open letters to various asshats

This is probably going to end up as part one of a series, but we’ll see.  One might say it’s a continuation of an earlier rant.  There are some people I’d like to say certain things to, but thus far I’ve only had the guts to do so in some very lucid (and therapeutic) dreams.  So, I think I’ll blow off some steam here, passive-aggressively, kitty style.

In case you start to wonder, I decided I wasn’t even going to mention drivers here because they warrant their own special limited edition double box set, complete with exclusive promo-only DVD video trailers and rare collectible items.  So, moving on…

Open Letter #1: To the religious evangelists
I’m not Christian.  I have lots of friends and family who are, some devoutly so, and I totally respect them and their faith.  They respect mine.  It’s a mutually respectful relationship.  The problem arises when the more vocal of adherents attempt to convince me that their faith is better than mine.  Following my pedestrian partner up the sidewalk to the grocery store on your bicycle, persisting to discuss Jesus with him after he has already told you he’s not interested is not going to win you any additional fans.  Neither is telling me you’re concerned about me because I might not get into heaven since I don’t believe Jesus was our savior.  Thoughtful and well-meaning?  Yep, absolutely.  Appropriate or well-received?  Not exactly.  Besides–how do you know I won’t get into heaven?  I mean, we all have our guesses and gut feelings, but let’s face it, not everyone knows for sure.  One last thought, and I mean absolutely no disrespect to any missionary religion but it’s my belief that if the religion was really that cool in the first place, you wouldn’t have to spend so much time and energy (not to mention money) trying to convince people as such.

Open Letter #2: To the Whole Foods Market shoppers
Not that I’m perfect, but your collective personality is despicable.  It starts even before I enter the store, when you ignore all clearly-marked crosswalks and stop signs and dang near run over me in the parking lot.  It continues inside as you turn a relatively tranquil grocery store into your own personal Indy 500.  You can’t be bothered to look around corners; you just go, anyone in your way be damned.  When you’re trying to proceed down the same aisle I’m currently occupying (having to read every label is a time-consuming bitch), and I don’t happen to notice you’re there because you haven’t uttered a damn peep, don’t sit there and silently fume that I’m in your way.  I’m hearing impaired and normally don’t hear people coming up behind me.  Would it kill you to simply say, “excuse me”?

And while we’re at it, when you do run over my partner’s foot with your SUV-sized cart, would your life come to an end if you said “I’m sorry”?  And last but not least, if the next item on my list is currently surrounded by a small crowd of people, guess what?  I move onto the next item and come back to the other item later, when the crowd has cleared out.  Please extend the same common sense to me; if I’m currently occupying a space you’d like to be in, please consider that there are other aisles in the store besides the one I’m standing in, and I’m sure you have more items on your list.  You can skip the item for now and come back.  Really.  It won’t ruin your day.  And no, driving a Toyota Prius or Mini Cooper and claiming to have “gone green” does not entitle you to a g–damned medal that you can rub in the faces of those of us who wish to survive our car crashes and maximize such odds with vehicles that require V-8 engines.  ‘Kay?

Open Letter #3: People who won’t tip
I understand the current frustration over tip jars popping up everywhere, and they are, even in places that didn’t warrant tips in years past.  For the record, I’m not talking about those; I’m talking about the stereotypical settings in which the acceptance (and expectation) of tips is a well-established custom.  When you go to a sit-down restaurant, for example, you leave a tip for your server, typically based on a percentage of the total bill, a percentage which hovers around 15-20% but can go higher or lower depending on the quality of service you received.  Those of you who are on the warpath, crusading against the institution of American tipping customs, get a life and either cough up a few bucks for the (typically) hard worker at your beck and call, or take your sorry ass somewhere else.  (There are literally thousands of restaurants at which you are completely off the hook for living any kind of tip.)  Yes I understand that it’s not your problem that servers have to sometimes pay taxes on money they didn’t actually make, or that they have to pay the restaurant’s other staff themselves (heaven forbid the owners take the tax write-off to pay their own employees!), or the fact that despite the federal minimum wage increases, this has largely not benefited those considered to be in tipped positions (they still get paid a measly $2.13/hr).

However, it is important to consider these aspects before you run your mouth, making yourself look like a complete jackhole by claiming servers make a boatload of money every night.  Inconvenient fact: they usually don’t.  It can indeed be a sustainable (even decent) living, but it doesn’t come without hard work and headache, usually from dealing with the same douchebags who pay the least for the service.  You complain about having to tip any extra and you think that the United States should institute European tipping practices.  Cool!  Let’s do that.  Knock yourself out.  That way, you automatically pay extra for your meal (a portion of which goes toward a fair wage for the server) no matter what the quality of service, and it’s no longer voluntary, being built into the cost of the food and all.  That way, at least the server (who has been tipping out the rest of the restaurant based on sales and not actual tips made), doesn’t actually lose money out of his or her own pocket for the irreplaceable pleasure of waiting on you.

Open Letter #4: To the psychobitch that hit me on the Dallas North Tollway in November 2009
Up until now I have refrained from mentioning or discussing this, but now that all has been investigated and the issued tickets have been taken care of, I feel safe(r) talking about it.  A little over 2 months ago, we were hit, quite deliberately, by some lose cannon in a car much smaller than our truck, who was not even occupying a proper lane, nor did she indicate a desire to make an actual legal lane change into my lane.  Yes, this person inched forward into us (thankfully we were traveling at practically walking speed) until she actually made full contact with my truck.  Psychobitch, here’s the deal.  You know what you did.  It wasn’t even sane.  You know you lied to the cops when they had to hunt you down at your house after you left the friggin’ scene of the accident (hope you like the ticket that resulted and the ears-perked-up reaction from the dispatcher the next time you get pulled over and they run your ass through the computer).  You claimed I made an illegal lane change and ran into you, but you know as well as I do that that’s not true.  You were playing cop by sitting on the right shoulder, trying to prevent people from illegally passing on the shoulder during heavy traffic.  I don’t like to see people pass on the shoulder, either.

But you know what?  I learned that if you give stupid hotheads enough rope, they’ll hang themselves.  It’s not any skin off my back.  So I sit patiently in traffic and if some dumbshit is going to pass on the shoulder, let them pass.  One day there’ll be a cop sitting a bit further up who will see the whole thing and nail their ass to the wall.

Guess what else?  You’re not a cop.  It’s not your job to enforce the law on other people, only to not follow it yourself.  Which you didn’t, as you sat on the right shoulder without any legitimate reason, which you can’t lawfully do in the State of Texas.  And then you willfully ran into my vehicle.  Please justify to me how that even remotely resembles any definition of sanity.  How you still have a license is beyond my comprehension, because if I were a judge, yours would be revoked, permanently.  But I’m not, so you’re still on the road.  Chances are, if you’re whacked out enough to pull a stunt like that once, you’ll likely do so again, when the sting of the ticket and its ramifications fade into history.

But at least this time, it’ll still be on your record.  It ain’t coming off anytime soon.  And when you do this again, it’s sure to raise some eyebrows when it comes back on the driver record check.

Oh and I hope you enjoy the heightened insurance rates.  It was a nice touch, by the way, how you immediately submitted a claim to my insurance company, and nicer still that you were rude, irate, and impatient with them as they tried to properly collect the pertinent data.  Leaving the scene of an accident and then immediately attempting to make an insurance claim is a little fishy, don’t-cha think?  Especially when all you wanted to holler at me at the time of the accident was a demand for my insurance information.  Not to mention that you didn’t really have any damage to speak of in the first place.  Nice try.  I thought it was sweet justice when my insurance company denied your claim and told you to pound sand.  Karma served.

Oh boy, this was fun.  I have the feeling it’s just the beginning…


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