/* Source for Uncle Thom's Cabin By Thom Buhler Stolen, ahem, borrowed from ahhxuann at http://ahhxuann-.blogspot.com And then modified by Thom himself ------------------------------------------ */ uncle thom's cabin



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posted (12.09.2008) at [9:47 PM]
a car is not a tool, it is a heavyweight iron machine meant to KILL
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as i pull out of my driveway and back out into the street, straight ahead of me is my turn to go directly on to a road dubbed 'busy road'. and between that road and my car, there is only one obstacle. CHILDREN. yes the little buggers obviously haven't taken a traffic school course in their life, as evident of their sometimes-samaritan and sometimes-oblivious behaviors. it's tuesday, the 2nd time in the week i've actually had to deal with these mongrels and drive during the transition time between 'school' and 'home' for these pseudo-samaritans. but what really makes me boiled is the fact that there is no crossing guard to stop me from accidentally revving my gas into these kids, accelerating directly through the intersection, possibly t-boning oncoming traffic and, if my velocity is high enough, hitting and puncturing the weak fence directly in front of me.

now, i understand why there wouldn't be a crossing guard for my little tiny cul-de-sac, a little nipple sticking out on the side of a long and winding road of mediocrity. but the fact is that the child/car ratio is much too high, and a crossing guard would limit my satanic temptations and maintain sanity.

another blood-boiling fact? down the street, the next obstacle in my path to finishing the task in order to go home to another mundane afternoon of browsing the modern "web 2.0" and thus completing another day in my depressing life (circle of life, if you will), is another stream of kids. with, oh you don't miss anything do you, a crossing guard. but what is funny about this intersection is that the stream of nappy children has toned down significantly to the rate of about 2.3 i-don't-give-a-craps per second. and the crossing guard just stands there and grins, arms outstretched in a feeble attempt to emphasize her sarcastic smile, holding a giant red octagon labeled STOP in one hand.

i mean seriously. there is like 2 kids in the next 100 yards and they aren't even at the intersection yet. just let me go through this intersection and on with my merry life, and if i'm kind enough to spare you, you can go about leading an incredibly simple and monotonous life of taunting any and all cars who so much as stop at "your" intersection. remember, a car is not a tool, it is a heavyweight machine designed for the sole purpose of destruction. at least, that's what MY car was designed to do.

remember this, crossing guard lady.

love your uncle thom
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