More Honky? You damn right.

It’s nothing more than a middle finger uplifted outside a driver’s side window. That’s not exactly a declaration of war or even an insult to your manhood. It’s simply a criticism of your judgment and your driving skills. Maybe even bridging the gap into your very existence. It’s official. The verdict is in. You suck.




You learned your attitude from a Snoop Dogg video. It’s silly for a 13-year old small-town white boy from Kentucky to act like a pimp. You know more about pimples than pimping. Until you get old enough to drive or Cadillac makes a bicycle, it’s time to take a long look at your style, my friend. Besides, you can’t very well wear a pimp-style hat with your head up your ass and you definitely can’t drive a Cadillac that way. If nothing else, it makes it incredibly difficult to buckle your seatbelt. It’s all about the seatbelt, you know.




Run Like Hell Or Walk Like A (Dead) Egyptian

Why is it that everyone wants to jog seems to do it on roads with virtually no shoulder or space to share? This has always been a mystery to me. As soon as the weather gets borderline pleasant, the daredevils take to the roads and get their exercise mojo working.

If someone wants to exercise, I am all for it. It's a good habit to start, but it's a bad habit to do your good habit where there is a good chance of getting your gravy licked by a SUV doing 45 mph. "I like to run to keep in shape." Well, that's fine, but you're probably going to get a little flabby when you recovering in a body cast at the local hospital.

Over the years, I've had to come to a complete stop to avoid oncoming traffic and the jogging jackass numerous times. That has become a thing of the past, because I am an asshole. For those that don't believe it, the verdict is in and the jury says that yes, I am an asshole. It's official.

So you may be asking yourself "What has changed? You can't just run over joggers." Unfortunately no, I can't do that and that's a damn shame. It is. But I do have options and they can be quite entertaining. I figure that life is short and it's important to get all the entertainment possible before buying the farm. I will provide a few of my own ideas and you can no doubt add your own to your repertoire.

If you find yourself faced with oncoming traffic and a jogger in your lane that refuses to break pace or take the ditch, I say give them the close shave treatment. All you have to do is get your side mirrors as close as humanly possible to the jogger and they should take the hint that you mean business. If this idea somehow damages your vehicle, it gives you the opportunity to get your own exercise by beating the person like a rented mule.

If the running person is going in the same direction as your vehicle (also known as "Going my way, Sailor"), why not roll up right behind them and lay on the horn? Part of exercise is elevating the heart rate and nothing shoots the heart rate through the roof like a loud, unexpected noise behind you. While most standard automotive horns will work nicely, it's always nice to provide a tune like the General Lee's "Dixie" horn. You can even give them motivation and incentive to continue running by riding directly behind them and revving the engine. They may have the pain of a thousand ice picks in their side, but I bet they will keep running to avoid becoming a hood ornament.

Sure, these ideas may seem just a little mean-spirited and I am perfectly okay with that. However, sometimes it is good to be kind and compassionate. It may come as a shock to some people, but I can be kind and yes, I can even be compassionate. Since exercise tends to make the body sweat and get funky, I like to help out. When you see Joe Jogger sweating like a New York waiter, drive beside him and then clean your windshield. The wayward spray should offer him a nice blast of liquid refreshment and take off a layer or two of sweaty funk. Feel free to add to the goodwill by offering some encouragement like a nice thumb's up and a smile before going on your way. I'll bet the person will offer their own gesture to show their gratitude.

To those that may think these ideas are a bit extreme, I say maybe so. However, paved roads were built and maintained for automobiles. There are plenty of available areas that are much safer for walking and running, such as parks, golf courses, sidewalks, treadmills, etc. Chances are good that you won't see me driving my truck in these places, but if you keep running on my roads, asshole, that may soon change.

Next topic: People who insist on moving hellacious farm machinery on narrow roads during times of heavy traffic.




I gave up devil worship for Lent.



Tonight has me feeling like I’ve been beaten for days on end by an angry, tire tool-toting mob. This event occurred after being mauled by a pack of disgruntled grizzly bears and being pelted by a quarry of boulders. Yes, it was a rough day and the repercussions and effects are lingering. The prior days are stacked and warehoused within my bones. To say that they add up is a vast understatement. I’ve spent so much time waiting for something better to come along and it has become obvious that better times were detained at the border. At this very moment, they are probably bending over in a dimly-lit room waiting for the inevitable cavity search. By the time this takes place, the better times are bruised, violated, and generally lacking a sense of humor. This is the condition that they arrive in my life—walking a pained, bow-legged walk with a four pack a day nicotine habit and absolutely no trace of positivity in sight. Such is life. It is what you make it and I’d like to make it out alive without a cavity search.




Late at night, you’re all that’s on my mind. I’ve spent the day trying to figure you out, trying to make sense of it all and somehow retain a trace of dignity. Forget sanity, it doesn’t even fit into the same frame without throwing off the composition.




We can send humans into space and back, transmit data across the world instantaneously, offer hundreds of channels of television programming (although 99% of it is basically shit) and yet we cannot invent cough syrup that doesn’t taste like a combination of paint thinner and something that dropped out of a raccoon’s ass. Perhaps the intent is to concoct a mixture that is so nasty that the cough immediately wants to go to a more peaceful environment.