- Rack.
- Panera sucks, but it used to have an Italian sandwich which was passable, and big enough to constitute your main/only real meal for the day. Used to live on it during my younger days when I was on the road a lot and poor.
- My NWO three month ultra elite hierarchy looks like this now: October, November, September. This is due solely to global warming, thank you libs! November used to be cold and rainy, ie Slash slaying a Les Paul by a graveyard. But thanks to our new climate, November is like how October used to be. And September, while still elite, tends to be like 90 with drought conditions (bad for us horticulturalists trying to rejuvenate/plant stuff or overseed turf before winter). So September is relegated to the bronze podium now.
- The reality is March and April generally suck weather-wise. More often than not it’s cloudy and raining. February has been nicer the past two years (this is true). March and April are just times of such hope and new beginnings, so they get a pass, and remain elite, even if only for nostalgic purposes. June is ultra elite, however.
- Did you hear that Wayne Dougan paid a homeless man $30 today to take a shit on his chest? Wayne jerked his choad and sang his favorite Sound of Music number. Ha! Loser.
- I pride myself on being a good driver - I’ve trained with the elite in the Pyrenees in a 1964 Ferrari 275 GTB/C - but on local roads, I like to simply be safe and competent. Let’s protect the kids and the moms, no? I make a habit of turning the other cheek and not succumbing to any primal instincts that only lead to bad outcomes. But today, at a local intersection (Grand and the South Avenue, for you fellow cakeeaters), while going to pick up my youngest from the day camp at the Y, I proceeded to turn left when it was duly my turn. Some asshole in a Range Rover comes blasting out like he’s going to T bone me, locks up his breaks, flips me the bird and gestures and yells and everything. He looked like some i-banker douche, typical Range Rover driver. At this point, he was stopped perpendicular to my 4Runner, with only a couple feet to spare, so he wasn’t going anywhere, immediately at least. I took the opportunity to roll down my window, take off my sunglasses, look him in the eye, extend my middle finger slowly, and say in a soft and gentle manner, “f**k you, cocksucker.” He rolled up his window. Hahaha.
- I used to keep a .45 Kimber in my console, but a few years ago, I decided the odds of me getting irrationally angry and using it at an inappropriate time outweighed the potential benefits of needing it in a life-threatening situation. So now I keep a filet knife in the little compartment on my door. If that pussy had jumped out with a Glock .40 or something, probably not even knowing how to chamber a round, I would have sliced his jugular with the quickness, and left him to bleed out on the avenue. Then I would have picked up my kid from the Y and gone about my business.
