Two for the Price of One!
Apparently, I am the moral equivalent of a war criminal, because I cut a trucker off this morning on my way to Vincennes. Apparently, he also felt the need to let me know about it, as though I were going to do anything about it. (What? I loathe truckers, to the extent that I point and cheer every time I see a cop's pulled one over. Everybody knows this.)
Basically, this is what happened.
1.) I am in the right-hand lane of US-41 northbound.
2.) There is a cop car with its lights flashing on the shoulder.
3.) I move into the left-hand lane to avoid impeding the cop, intending to merge back into the right-hand lane once there's a reasonable distance between me and the cop. In doing so, I pass the truck in question.
4.) We are coming up on an intersection with a light.
5.) The light changes. I cannot get through the intersection before it goes red. I stop. Truck Fucker must also stop lest he hit me, or have his kidneys kicked in, as is the inevitable fate of all who touch my car without my express authorization. d00d, I'm an abstractor: my car is an extension of my soul, of my mana if you will.
6.) Truck Fucker does not hit me. No accident, no foul, no hurt, but Truck Fucker is pissed. OMG do I REALIZE the HORRIBLE THING I'VE DONE???? HOW DARE I CUT HIM OFF, because I SHOULD DISOBEY THE TRAFFIC LAWS instead of MAKING HIM UPSET by MAKING IT DIFFICULT FOR HIM TO DO WHATEVER HE WANTS. The roads are the EXPRESS PLAYTHING OF TRUCKS, and everyone else should NOT BE ALLOWED ON THEM. I am a WAR CRIMINAL OMG. OMG SOMEBODY CALL THE UNITED NATIONS!!!1111
6a.) Jesus fuck, I swear those assholes would drive on the wrong side of the road if they thought they could get away with it.
6b.) Also, I cannot be prosecuted for war crimes under the Geneva Convention because I did not sign the Geneva Convention.
7.) As though I give a shit about the feelings or convenience of an unshaven sloven who probably has greasy stains in his Y-fronts. Grow up, Truck Fucker; it's not like there was an accident.
8.) I am in a good mood, so I do not grind his face into meatloaf using the grille of my car.
9.) Random fun fact: Truck Fucker's company, like so many others, presumably hires only SAFE and COURTEOUS drivers!!!!
Also, yesterday I was fagging about on Wikipedia, and I learned that Warren County (north of Terre Haute) is the Black Hole of Indiana. Seriously--look at these. The vast majority are in Warren County, which is apparently the Bermuda Triangle of Indiana.
Also also, I obtained an answer to a question I had long had (viz., "What the hell is it with English"?). English, IN is the county seat of Crawford County, which is how I'm familiar with it; it's not one of my bigger counties, but I do title work there. When you drive through it, you can see that it's somewhat dilapidated and shabby, and you can also see huge spaces on what's ostensibly Main Street where there might once have been something there. I'd assumed that it was because English has always been a small town (there's less than 700 people there) and that it is in the process of slowly dying.
The truth is that English was flooded five times in about thirty years (late '50s to early '90s), and as a result, the town council decided to move the town. I am serious. English can now be found on considerably higher ground than it once was (mostly over IN-64). Well. One learns something new every day.
Basically, this is what happened.
1.) I am in the right-hand lane of US-41 northbound.
2.) There is a cop car with its lights flashing on the shoulder.
3.) I move into the left-hand lane to avoid impeding the cop, intending to merge back into the right-hand lane once there's a reasonable distance between me and the cop. In doing so, I pass the truck in question.
4.) We are coming up on an intersection with a light.
5.) The light changes. I cannot get through the intersection before it goes red. I stop. Truck Fucker must also stop lest he hit me, or have his kidneys kicked in, as is the inevitable fate of all who touch my car without my express authorization. d00d, I'm an abstractor: my car is an extension of my soul, of my mana if you will.
6.) Truck Fucker does not hit me. No accident, no foul, no hurt, but Truck Fucker is pissed. OMG do I REALIZE the HORRIBLE THING I'VE DONE???? HOW DARE I CUT HIM OFF, because I SHOULD DISOBEY THE TRAFFIC LAWS instead of MAKING HIM UPSET by MAKING IT DIFFICULT FOR HIM TO DO WHATEVER HE WANTS. The roads are the EXPRESS PLAYTHING OF TRUCKS, and everyone else should NOT BE ALLOWED ON THEM. I am a WAR CRIMINAL OMG. OMG SOMEBODY CALL THE UNITED NATIONS!!!1111
6a.) Jesus fuck, I swear those assholes would drive on the wrong side of the road if they thought they could get away with it.
6b.) Also, I cannot be prosecuted for war crimes under the Geneva Convention because I did not sign the Geneva Convention.
7.) As though I give a shit about the feelings or convenience of an unshaven sloven who probably has greasy stains in his Y-fronts. Grow up, Truck Fucker; it's not like there was an accident.
8.) I am in a good mood, so I do not grind his face into meatloaf using the grille of my car.
9.) Random fun fact: Truck Fucker's company, like so many others, presumably hires only SAFE and COURTEOUS drivers!!!!
Also, yesterday I was fagging about on Wikipedia, and I learned that Warren County (north of Terre Haute) is the Black Hole of Indiana. Seriously--look at these. The vast majority are in Warren County, which is apparently the Bermuda Triangle of Indiana.
Also also, I obtained an answer to a question I had long had (viz., "What the hell is it with English"?). English, IN is the county seat of Crawford County, which is how I'm familiar with it; it's not one of my bigger counties, but I do title work there. When you drive through it, you can see that it's somewhat dilapidated and shabby, and you can also see huge spaces on what's ostensibly Main Street where there might once have been something there. I'd assumed that it was because English has always been a small town (there's less than 700 people there) and that it is in the process of slowly dying.
The truth is that English was flooded five times in about thirty years (late '50s to early '90s), and as a result, the town council decided to move the town. I am serious. English can now be found on considerably higher ground than it once was (mostly over IN-64). Well. One learns something new every day.