Friday, March 16, 2007

More "Best Of": The Common Sense Vigilantes

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Fri 23 Dec 2005

The Common Sense Vigilantes!

Posted by smartcentipede under Random Acts of Violins

One of the many posses I roll with, The Common Sense Vigilantes are dedicated to making people suffer for acts of selfish stupidity.

One of our favorites is to wait at a light in a left turn lane and wait for it to turn green. That is our signal to start squirting paint thinner at cars that run the opposing red light, cutting in front of us. If you find yourself with a nice corroded streak across the drivers side of your car, then chances are, you’ve run a red light in a last ditch attempt to get wherever you are going three minutes earlier.

Another fun hobby is bouncing a ball into the road when I hear a vehicle approach my house at high speeds.
Then there’s the video taping. Collecting of license plate numbers and video evidence of traffic infractions.
Seriously, folks, what’s the fucking rush? I find myself growing continuously angry at people who drive, shop, speak, and generally live like there is no one in the world more important than them.

One day, while transporting a van load of college girls to a place where they could get all sweaty and smack around some balls (I was a college softball coach, you fucking perverts) our school van convoy was bisected by a mint-green four door mid-80’s Ford. With slightly more than a car length between vans, the intrusion was quite unwelcome and dangerous. I tapped my horn, voicing my displeasure as was my right as a motorist, and the load-better-swallowed tapped on his breaks in a foolish attempt to frighten me. He eventually swerved out from between us, and sped ahead, likely to annoy and endanger more of his fellow travelers.

My brief glimpse of this Gaping, festering ASSHOLE was of a man holding a sandwich item of some sort, turning the pages of a newspaper, and looking at the road about twenty percent of the time.

As our vans approached the exit to our destination, the mint-green malevolence remounted his attack, swerving betwixt us once again, this time in a violent lurch. When I was forced to step on my breaks to avoid hitting him, I gave a more emphatic blast of the horn, and the trouser stain actually stepped HARD on his breaks, forcing me to lock up the wheels of the Big Blue Bus of Broken Dreams. I was so angry I could have split atoms with the force my teeth were generating against each other.

So I did what any mature adult would do. At the stop light, I had one of my girls dial 911 on my cell phone. I told the police my exact location. I gave his license plate number. I said he was swerving across multiple lanes, which he was. I said he was repeatedly cutting me off, which he was. I said he was stepping on his breaks in an attempt to get me to rear-end him, which he was. I said he appeared to be reading, which he was. I said he appeared to be eating, which he was. I said he appeared to be drinking from a paper bag, which got the attention of the officer on the other end of the line. I repeated the license plate number, and once again agve my exact location. The officer assured me that they would dispatch a cruiser to investigate. I thanked them and hung up the phone.

That’s right, mother fucker. The Common Sense Vigilante will do many things to avenge the wrongs perpetrated by the ignorant and the selfish. Lying is chief among them. I feel no compunction about lying to the police in stating that I saw him drink from a bottle in a paper bag, if it will make his life miserable. He deserves to be pulled form the car and beaten ala Rodney King. If lying is what it takes for the police to come after a fuck bag like this, then get out the way, bitch, because my Pinocchio proboscis is about to achieve full erection.

I know there is every probability that Mr. Mint-Green probably swerved his way to whatever his pathetic excuse for a brain thought was important unimpeded, but in my fantasy, he was caught about three miles down the road. He was kept there in his car for about fifteen minutes. The officer at the scene gave him a sobriety test. He was issued a ticket for traveling at imprudent speeds. He angrily ripped up the ticket once he got back on the road, and he was late for his big meeting. The client got tired of waiting around, and his company lost the account. He was fired for incompetence. In an angry huff, he drove home from the office, swerving and weaving once again. He was pulled over again, and issued another ticket. This time, he didn’t wait until the officer was walking back to his car before ripping up the ticket and throwing it out the window.

The officer wrote him another ticket for littering, and when he violently reached for the ticket, he struck the officer. The officer pulled him from the car, slammed him against the hood, and searched him. Finding nothing, the officer planted a small bag of “evidence” on him, and cuffed and stuffed the fucker. He makes bail. He goes home, where his wife asks him how the hell she is supposed to survive if he gets convicted, especially now that he’s been fired, and he beats her. She calls her friend Steve, who served in the Gulf, and whom she has been banging behind his back anyway because he is substandard in the sack, and Steve does some unnecessary dentistry on him.

He is in Divorce Court on the day before he’s due in real court. He is tried and convicted of possession with intent to distribute, and he ends up behind bars. In prison, he ends up being the little bitch to a man named Hector. Hector isn’t afraid to use force. And while Mr. Mint Green lies face down in his pillow, with his boxers puddled by his feet, his rectal cavity saying “Hello” to Hector’s “Little Friend,” I hope somehow he has a spark, a recollection, a memory of one of the drivers he cut off that day, a bald man in a van full of kids that he almost killed, and remembers the driver on his cell phone, looking directly at his car, speaking very descriptively.

The lesson: DON’T be an asshole.

Trust me. Whatever it is you think makes you so important that the laws of traffic, safety, and decency don’t apply to you, it’s not true. You’re a fucking jerk, just like the rest of us. If you find yourself saying “If I miss this light, I’ll miss X, Y, or Z,” miss the light. It’s the price you pay for not leaving earlier. It’s a price I insist you pay. And if you try to get out of paying, I’ll squirt your door with crazy glue as you pass. Or maybe I’ll give you a flat tire if I can get my hands on some caltrips and practice my aim. Or maybe I’ll phone in your license plate number and tell them I saw you drinking from a dark bottle as you roared through the light. That seemed to make the cops jump into action.

Use some common sense, people. Or better yet, don’t. That way, I can continue to hatch devious plans on how to make you all regret being born selfish.