Horny Choad

With all societies fantastical wanderings inclusive of encompassing directional wonderings by way of streetlike offerings, once blocked in carted technical advancement thoroughfares, leading the intermittent follower taken to give the blaring, occasionally induced shite dropping by way of sensory offering stimuli repugnant to those sitting forward of the backwards violation.

Though in reality, these are the words of one who in no way finds satisfaction within having to engage society on such a heavy pressing issue, therefore I will always tread lightly in interspersed audible interjection when the necessity arrives for an instrumental advancement for the totality of suffering passed on down the line of those afflicted by the median ignorance, in this day and age, headed more often than not with a face in the cloud by means of eyes on the screen.

Meep – Meep! Perhaps Ahooga!? Either way, till it falls into the hands of the dimwitted knuckle-dragger it seems to matter not, as, most of society it would seem, choose to use it not in flagrant cave-dwelling ignorance – except surely such a modern day comparison is truly an insult to even an Attention Deficit Disorder suffering Palaeolithic ass-dragger of a bygone era that just begs one to ask the question: ‘Is it a foregone conclusion that the entirety of society has truly evolved from such prehistoric times?’ As surely there is always that anomaly of ignorance out there waiting to foolishly pounce upon whatever from the confines of the all too inflated air-gap emanating from between their ears, shamefully spelling out to society that the alphabet most assuredly comes across as offensive in lashing contemplative shortness of breadth. Confirmation of such a blunt-club carrying hypothesis was plainly apparent to mine and countless being converged upon a halted traffic geographical location continuance of our week yore. But first…

Knuckle Dragger Free Zone

If one was not able to decipher my above descriptive rendering of when this “author” finds it pertinent to fist bump the core of my circular swervy-turny navigational device; it was alluded to that such only occurs when stuck behind the quintessential ogling ogre or ogress suffering from either an addiction of tell-a-phoney screened insensibilities, or lost in contemplative thought regarding how to get away with the perfect murder of their spouse, or the like, while waiting for the arrow of the left turn lane to turn green; of which case a polite few toots in lieu of a raucous reminder of letting it be known that the selfish prick had but one simple task to do – pay attention, so as to not inconvenience their fellow citizens possessing an attention span greater than micron conveyance while awaiting in the unblown atmospheric winds of their flatulence drifting existence.

In reality, someone could cut me off, while steering with their knees, arms stretched out the window, middle finger waving while hurling a flaming sac of mystery abundance at me in a lobbing parabolic arch trajectory and still my horn would not come into play. Truly, if one is not holding up the line while turning left in a turning lane on the green turning light, it irks me not; though even such absentmindedness will typically get a two second or so grace period. Really, is life not too abundant to be offended by the ignorance of the universe’s sole testing grounds – human ignoramus’ incapable of escaping the pudding firmly pureed between their inescapable vacuous mind?…

Ignorant Honky

Now, to let the Ignoramus meet his own match – himself. Life is too short only to the dolt who wastes every second of the life stolen from themselves in unreflective one-dimensional foolishness of entirety. In which case, to be halted for a police incident for a few minutes surely must be akin to being crucified in perpetuity for such a feeble mind. Ooga booga! Ooga booga! He like meat – hand smash steering wheel! He super smart – perfect world live between ears! Ooga Booga! Ooga booga! Enter the feebly weak sub-palaeolithic ass-dragger of my Friday yore that a befuddled societally present totality ran into, myself of which did so while running an errand for work.

Even esteemed members of the Canadian National Institute of the Blind could have clearly registered that there was a police incident in the intersection, as a police car with lights flashing and police officers in the intersection would indicate something was apparent to anyone to have not been self lobotomizing their way through life on pulverized eggshells. To the Palaeolithic dolt halted in tucked proximity behind me, it was the opportune time to show his caveman antics of blaring his horn for five or so seconds, on two distinct occasions, of which the second time one of the police officers appeared and scanned the lineup of cars, not believing that that such an ultra-maroon could actually exist. Anyways, this dick’s horn was so loud I though it came from my own car, and the police officer might have as well, as he looked right at me, of which I threw up my hands to gesture it was not me being the mannerless fool.

A few minutes later and the police were gone; where all anybody had lost was a few minutes of their time and two green lights. As I drove on, peering in the rearview mirror at the classless ignorant honky behind me, looking so angry it seemed like he had just found at that his girlfriend was really a man, his father had just left his mother to pursue a promiscuous homosexual lifestyle beginning with the prime minister of Cana-duh, and that he was now going to be 11 minutes late for work as opposed to the usual 7 minutes, where most assuredly it was certainly everybody else’s fault other than his own. And then it all made sense to me – his mind that is: George Floyd is a hero, the police need to be defunded, Universal Basic Income is a fundamental human right, “rich” people are society’s problem, shoplifting is not a crime, pharmaceutical instead of philosophical, and the only cycles that exist are tricycles, bicycles, unicycles, and motorcycles.


Which got me to the thinking of horns, honking, the mentality and cause and effect thereof of those that use them around the world. As someone that has traveled to a fair amount of varying geographical locations across the globe, a honky hypothesis leading into white-trash-ability has emerged in its infancy. Though I could be wrong, it seems to be that the first world countries are the sole haven for ignorant & selfish horn blowing. Me! Me! Me! Maybe call it an out of tune with universal totality syndrome? Where horns are sometimes used out of frustration and rage accompanying an admixture of what comes across as general destitute of basic manners, nor the ability to engage in passive restraint.

Whereas in somewhere like Southeast Asia and African countries the horn is used as an alert system to other drivers in order to telegraph an action of what is happening, and what will happen in the dimensional unchoreographed chaotic masterpieces that traffic systems can be outside of western countries of supposed order. Where a horn is a courtesy and unspoken language upon itself in the non-vindictive warning/location system it has come to be when at the hands of a more universally entwined earthly continuance.

If one wants to reach true enlightenment, participate in a Ho Chi Minh traffic regime!

As someone that lives at the corner of busy and busier, it would be fair to say that ignorant honky’s of white-trash-ability are abound in hard pressed desperation accompanying sole escaping white noisome ability.