Thursday, July 24, 2008

You have got to be kidding?

Ok, I can understand getting mad when someone cuts you off in traffic, forgets to use their turn signal or drives 55 in the fast lane. I can hardly go to the store these days without getting angry at some bonehead or self-centered maneuver. I can even get my mind around the concept of losing control and doing something, well, illegal and dangerous because of this anger. I can't excuse it, but can conceive it. But this guy in Murray has some serious, and I mean SERIOUS, anger management issues.

Imagine this: You're driving down the road and you pull up to the light. The guy in the car next to you rolls down his window and motions for you to do the same. When you do he asks "Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?" (That's a line from a commercial in the 90's). What do you do? Yeah, that's what you or I would do. Mr. Anger-Management pulls out a gun, cocks it and says to the kid in the car "Here's your Grey Poupon, roll your f*#!&*n windows up!" Personally, I would have just laughed or handed them a quart of motor oil and said "Sorry, this is all I got." But then I would have missed out on the 3rd degree felony charge of aggrivated assault. I hope they take away his concealed weapons permit.


jannx said...

Wow, this world is going from bad to worst.

A Paperback Writer said...

I am confused. Did this happen to you? Or did you read about it?

Driving here in Orkney:
I've gotten pretty used to the toy car, but it doesn't corner well, and the roads are narrow with at least a 6 inch emergency lane. People drive waaaaay too fast for awful roads in the mist with tractors pulling out every mile or so. I get honked at for going 50 mph a lot. Everyone else wants to go 70, but I just don't dare.

Max said...

No, it didn't happen to me, it happened to three teenagers in Murray, it was ion the Tribune. My best memories of driving in Europe involve 6 people and all their stuff in a 1970 VW Microbus going down the Autobahn, maxed out at 55 MPH going downhill with a tailwind. Cars would pass us going so fast that we argued over what color they were, not what kind of car they were.