Hey, Guy That Honks Just As The Light Turns Green
As we sat in our car, patiently awaiting that precious moment when the street light transforms its face from a belligerent, angry red, to a happy, approving green, we couldn’t help but notice that you, Guy That Honks Just As The Light Turns Green, honked your horn just as the light turned green. Now, we understand that there are moments in life where every split second is a matter of grave importance, but when we looked in our rearview mirror to see the face of the man that we very briefly thought about beating with the large stick we keep in our trunk, we saw the face of a man that didn’t seem like he was in an emergency situation. We saw no blood, and no injured person coated in blood and writhing in pain in the backseat. All we saw was a doucher with his right arm wrapped around the passenger seat, lovingly embracing the nobody that was sitting there, which, by the way, is a perfect visual metaphor for the type of person you probably are – a lonely, angry little turd that welcomes sadness with open arms.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. This is a free country. You’re more than welcome to be an impatient little shit that can’t understand why people can’t be allowed the two-seconds it takes to move a foot off of the break pedal and on to the gas. You’re more than welcome to expect that your average person has a sitting foot speed comparable to a meteor barreling through an atmosphere. But at a certain point, your expectations of people must meet face-to-face with reality. The reality here being that if people could move their feet at the speed you wish them to, most people wouldn’t even need cars, for we would all be literally running for work two minutes before we have to be in the office and making it to our cubicles and starting our work days with a good forty-five seconds to spare.
Granted, in your fantasy world where feet can move faster than an ass like you can reach for their car horn, there would be many problems. For instance, a minor fender-bender would look more like an explosion at an all-state chili cook-off. But that’s beside the point.
The real point is this: we fully understand that you have places to be and hot dog venders to yell at for not cramming a wiener down your gullet the moment you place an order, but must you be such an abrasive dick about it? We recommend that you learn to develop some patience. From what we’ve read on various bumper stickers, it’s a virtue.
Maybe start off small by putting a piece of bread in your toaster, turning it on, and withholding your blood rage for about thirty-seconds while – through the wonders of modern toastology – your bread goes from soft and white, to brown and crispy. If you can make it all the way to the end without screaming vaguely incoherent obscenities at a kitchen appliance, then perhaps there is hope for you yet. If you fail, though, then just pack your belongings and move to the mountains, where you can yell at bears for not being swift enough with their deadly throat chewings. You’ll be doing all of us a huge favor.
So, in summation, we get you, man. We understand that in his wondrous information age we currently live in, sometimes we humans tend to get a little frustrated when things take a second or two to occur. We want our information now, our coffee instant, and our lubes Jiffy’d. Sadly, when you get people out in the real world sans technology and all of its fancy instantaneousness, we quickly realize that there just isn’t a way to move our limbs at the speed of light, as you are obviously suggesting we do.
Love,
Holy Taco
P.S. – The light turned green as you were reading the last sentence. We kindly request that you move your f*cking ass.
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first
fuck that. move your foot off the pedal faster. people have places to be.
Maybe if left at a reasonable time, giving you enough time to get to where you’re going without speeding like hell, you wouldn’t need to act like an asshole to people who DID give themselves enough time to get to where they’re going doing the speed limit and taking reasonable time to hit the gas pedal.
I rarely honk unless the five second rule is violated, which it often is in Socal what with the texting, phone talking, and makeup applying that is so often occurring in the female driven cars in front of me.
honk at me and you’ll have to pass me.cuz i ain’t moving.
Yes, the honker is annoying. But just ignore him/her and then take your sloth time.
My Dad told me that people that honk the horn all the time end up getting shot someday.
er…….. his hand slipped from the perimeter of the steering wheel to the horn. whups – much ado about nuttin’
I thought it was a brake pedal, not a brake peddle.
GOD DAMNIT. the fuckface above me beat me by a minute. FUCK.
first. who is lebron james?
Owned
HAHAHAHA I DID TOTALLY OWN HIS ASS !
I WAS ON MY LUNCH BREAK AND WAS RUNNING LATE TO BANG THE LIL ASIAN HOOKER ON 12TH ST . SHE LOVES ME LOOOOOONG TIME
I’M AMAZED AT YO IMAGINA-WEE PWOWESS,MOST -DISONOWUBBLE PHAKKHEDD-, AND WE ALL TANK YOU FO CLAWIFYING YO PHA-LICK PUSSUASION WIT YO SECON COMMENT…”YOU TOTAWEE OWNED HISS ASS”…NOT THAT THEW’S ANYTHING WONG WITH THAT…MOST LITTO MINIMUM WAGE GWASSHOPPERS SUCH AS YOU MUST BE CONTENT WITH IMAGINAWY FEETS…DUWING YO “LAUNCH OWA” AS YOU RESORT TO SELF-GWATIFICATION BECAUSE ONLY OTHEW LOOSUS LIKE YOSELFF AW BOASTING ABOUT HOW -THEY OWNED YO AWSSS- TOO…..HA-EEEEEEEE!
Who spelled patience wrong? English people.
a few months ago, this green-light-honker asswipe followed me for several blocks through downtown, at the 4th light he honked at, i threw her in reverse and slammed his gay little car hard, messed it up bad. it spewed fluids and steam…
i got out and strolled casually back and asked the punk, “how ya like me now?, bitch!” he just sat there so i left…
the guy behind him was laughing his ass off
Wow! And then after he honked for the second time you awakened from your daydream and sheepishly waved an apology and drove on.