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Thursday, September 11th, 2003
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9:35p - A letter
Dear motherfuckers traversing Kenmare St.,
You certainly are in a hurry to get from point A to point B, aren't you? Well, perhaps you should look into some tranquilizers, because laying on your horn like it was your hotline to God to rearrange the universe to your liking isn't actually going to get you there any faster.
You may think that you are sharing a pleasant musical experience with those around you. In this you would be mistaken. Your music sounds shitty generally, and it sounds even worse when you blast it through your pathetically cheap and distorting speakers.
With the revolutionary invention of the muffler, your vehicle need not sound like the world's largest coffee can filled with the world's largest rocks rolling down the street at thirty miles per hour. I'm looking at you, gangs of motorcycles, as many other vehicles are as bad but at least they do not travel in packs of thirty. Do you realize there's such a thing as a noise ordinance? I can't imagine why you don't get your asses ticketed every time you rev your damned nuisances thither and yon. Alternately, if you want to be as noisy as all fuck, you have to be in bed by 9:00. No, you may not stay up to see the end of this TV show.
In conclusion, burn in hell.
No love,
Meghan
current mood: enraged
current music: guess
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