Back in September 2009 I predicted shit like this was going to happen in my post Hidden camera politics in the new creepiness.
Sadly I was right. 😦
This wasn’t a hidden camera but it sure was an in-your-face camera. Lots of little James O’Keefe wannabes running around out there now. Cameras are cheap and everyone wants their 15 minutes of fame without having the prerequisite talent and/or putting in the work. Welcome to the 21st century.
Prepare yourself for a lot more of this sort of thing.
Last week WordPress had a little bit of downtime. It wasn’t quite as bad as The Great WordPress Outage of 2010. That time WordPress was affected for about three hours. This time it was only about two hours.
The last outage was blamed on the ever-popular excuse of “data centers.”
This time, however, the interesting thing is, just like the Venus Mariner that had to be destroyed shortly after launch, WordPress says the problem was caused by a “single character out-of-place” in some updated code. (My emphasis added.)
Oh the joys of programming. 🙂
I made a little boo-boo today. I allowed primitive Homo sapiens emotions to kick in and I foolishly risked my life. What can I say? I’m only (mostly) human. [shrug]
So it went down a little something like this…
It was a gorgeous and lazy Saturday morning. My wife and I had slept in, made ourselves a spot of tea, and decided to grab some breakfast then hit the recycling drop off station.
Breakfast was pretty good and uneventful. We did have a discussion regarding how eggs should be ordered if you want them between “over medium” and “over hard.” I suggested “over semi-hard?” Whatever. Who knows?
So we hopped in our car with my wife behind the wheel and make our way across town. We were in the left lane and needed to be in the right because our turnoff was coming up soon, but we still had plenty of time. My wife put on her blinker, waited for the car on our right to pass, checked to make sure it was clear, then slowly drifted over.
I heard someone honk. I looked back and saw a small penis mobile (aka Big Ass Pickup) behind us a few car lengths back. Apparently one of the local cro-magnons didn’t like sharing “his” proprietary and personal space that he clearly owned that no one else was ever supposed to use.
I looked over at my wife. “Is that pickup honking at us,” I asked?
“I don’t know,” she said. “I had plenty of room.”
I shrugged. Whatever. My wife is a cautious driver and isn’t the type to drive aggressively and cut someone off. She’ll go around the block, much to my frustration, rather than do something like that. So some uptight asshole had honked at us? Big deal.
So we continued on our way and made our turn. The truck followed. We pulled into the turn lane at the recycling center. I gave the guy a look as he passed and he pounded on the horn. I leaned out the passenger window and gave him the international arm gesture for “what the hell?” But I did not flip him off. What I didn’t know at the time, though, is my wife was leaning out the left window and was indeed flipping him off.1 🙂
I watched the truck go about a block, turn left into a strip mall and begin to turn around. As we pulled up to the recycle bins the truck was already pulling up along side of our car.
Now I’m no fighter, far from it, but at this point I was fucking pissed off! What an unbelievable douche-nozzle for turning around and coming back in a situation like that. I flew like a lightning bolt out of that car and headed right at him.2 He met me half way in front of his truck. On the way his wife was yelling at me from the passenger seat of the rig. Something about “cutting them off” and that they had “to slam on the brakes” which was, of course, pure friggin’ bullshit. Did they think I hadn’t been there?
Now this fellow was rather large. Much taller and bigger than me. And obviously insane as a loon. So I picked my strategy carefully. I took off my sunglasses and moved in until I was six inches from his ugly ass face.
“Fucker,” I hissed at him. “You want to kick my ass?” I pointed at my face. “Go ahead, fucker. Go for it! Here it is!” I’m sure no small amount of flying froth was involved.
He repeated his wife’s bullshit lame ass story and then said, “You’re scared.” LOL! No shit, Sherlock! I was shaking like a leaf and about to wet my pants. He also said something along the lines of, “I’m not going to hit you.” It’s sort of hard to remember.
By this point a couple of dudes who had been sitting nearby ran out and were aggressively trying to separate me and my new bestest buddy. All I wanted at that moment in time was for the guy to hit me and then he’d be mine. I’d have witnesses, I’d press charges, and I’d have the FACT that he came back and initiated the situation on my side. (Being flipped off isn’t a valid reason to punch someone in the face.) It would be a no brainer.
I realized, though, at that moment, I was just as insane as he was. I was capable of ANYTHING at that exact moment in time. There is probably a good reason why I don’t own a gun.
Next thing I knew he was retreating to his Tonka, muttering the whole time, as was his wife, and the moment was over. They continued to yell at me as they pulled away but my logical side had retaken control. I stood by the car and gave them the stare of death as they drove off into the sunset.
What a couple of massive pricks.
So I guess I’m lucky he didn’t stomp my ass, pull a weapon or otherwise end my existence on this planet. Did I ever mention I have a wee problem with anger?
- My wife claims the other driver probably didn’t see this gesture.
- My wife and I differ a bit on this point. She claims the guy just wanted to drive by and yell at us one last time and had no intention of getting out of his rig. When I saw him next to us I just assumed and leaped into action. She says only after he saw me heading his way did he park he truck and head out to meet me. She may be right about that. Did I mention I was angry?