commuting makes me feel smart, because i see so many more complete morons than i used to, just cruising across town. case in point: this morning, on a stretch of 101 where the usual flow of traffic is 75-80 mph (it’s ok, we’re southern californians, don’t try this at home), there was a paranoid little clot of cars all hovering behind … a security guard. quite obviously a security guard. i mean please. yellow lights — nothing with yellow lights can pull you over, k? so security dude was in the fast lane doing 65, and 50 cars were all bunched up behind him, huddled masses yearning to break free, but unable to bring themselves to pass a coplike car. so i found my way through the moronic horde, and floored it. after me, only one other brave soul dared venture into the wide open spaces in front of the security car, and we had the freeway to ourselves for miles, it was great. commuting is like the other white meat, or sliced bread, or … yeah, commuting is basically a sandwitch. with mayonnaise.
in other news, if i don’t get a cd player in my car soon i shall go mad. mad i say. mad! mad. i will. i mean it. i’ll be all decked out in camo with the face paint and everything, armed literally to the teeth, belly-crawling through the lobby of the nearest clearchannel affiliate station with malice aforethought, yes i will. ok, maybe not. but i need to illustrate the point about the cd player, which may seem like a luxury, but it is anything but that.