Let's see what we have: Driving a very expensive European car which is filthy in that unwashed-for-6-months kind of way; front rims are nearly black. Still sporting the Kerry/Edwards bumper sticker for your own affirmation, I guess, because you're so right and everyone else is so wrong. Two of your tires are so under inflated that they are visibly deformed. Is that bad for your mileage? Who knows; we all know it's the government's job to punish auto manufacturers for all that confusing stuff anyway.
I see you're smoking with the windows shut and a kid in the back seat. That's a nice touch. When you passed me going about 50 on a city street with a 35 MPH speed limit, I also noticed your whiskey plates. How'd you earn those - I wonder?
There's a chance I wouldn't have noticed any of this had you not passed me on the right then cut me off to get in to the left turn lane, only to change your mind again and cut off others to get to the right lane behind me. That extra touch of honking at me because you expected me to turn right on red even though there are three signs indicating no right turn on red at this intersection really made our time together extra special.
I'm going out on a limb here, but I'll bet you're the type who fears identity theft and expects your elected officials to take care of your every privacy need. You're paranoid about who has access to your social security number, your e-mail address and your library card, but I'm here to tell you none of that matters: I know all about you.
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