To the Single-Brain-Celled Organism Riding that Harley Last Night

I get it. I understand how low your self-esteem is, and how the only thing keeping you from crying every time you look at yourself in the mirror is the fact that you shelled out money on a Harley Davidson loud enough to rattle windows in a tri-county radius every time you accelerate. Typically, I try to be an understanding and compassionate person, ready to see things from someone else’s point of view. The kind of guy who gives everybody the benefit of the doubt.

But wake up my sleeping two year old with your decibel blasting idiocy, and so help me, I throw all that understanding garbage right out the window. So just for today, I’m going to tell you what I really think about you. And I’ll use moving pictures, so that you have a chance of understanding.

When you go out on your motorcycle and rev it really loud at 8:30pm, you think you come off like this:

Peter Fonda. Dennis Hopper. The open road. Epitome of cool. But you, sir, are no Peter Fonda. You’re not even a sidekick Hopper. This is what you actually look like:

That’s right. You’re Jim Carrey.

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