The Crosswalk Mosey

We're all trying to get along in this crazy mixed up world. One people with a common purpose. To live, dammit! To live. There is a set of very reasonable social mores in place to help us peacefully cohabitate. Everybody cooperates. Everybody gets along. The beautiful circle of life continues. Until some butthole decides to tear down the whole system by taking eight minutes to cross the street while I'm waiting in my 1997 Camry like a goof. Now, instead of humming kumbaya like a silly little hobbit, I'm figuring out how to get my hands on a Molotov cocktail so I can throw it in a grocery store. I'm not asking everyone to do the courtesy mini-jog, but at least carry a steady clip. Sometimes they'll even look you in the eyes as they hand you the world's biggest non-verbal fuck you.