Open letter to Soccer Moms:Follow

Dear Madam:
It has come to my attention, after years of sitting behind you in parking ramps you seem unable to navigate, highways you fail to traverse at anything approaching acceptable speeds, parallel parking opportunities that you fail to convert and regular parking spaces you fail to fit in to, that you are, as a collective, completely incompetent in all matters related to the operation of a motor vehicle. While I can accept that the status you seek, having married well and moved to the suburbs, you feel is conveyed in the super-sized sport utility vehicle your husband bought you, what I can not accept is that you choose to take said behemoth from your quiet neighborhood streets and your wide suburban avenues and venture in to the wild of the urban center, unable to exhibit any knowledge of, or skill at, appropriate practices behind the wheel.

God made man (I refer here to the species, not the gender, though chances are in some form or another he did create both, although whether it was the result of a long process culminating in the fine specimen of Roman beauty you read the output of here or of a slapping together of lumps of clay instantaneously resulting in the forebears of this fine specimen of Roman beauty you read the output of here is up for grabs in a couple of recent threads on this board), man made the automobile and in keeping with the old axiom "the female of the species is more deadly than the male", Soccer Moms have twisted and bastardized the operation of said automobile until it has become damn near impossible to take even the shortest trip and not feel the sting of ineptitude. The groceries you spend too much money for at the top-tier grocery stores will fit the back of a mini-van. The children you pick up from soccer practice, piano lessons, karate class or any number of other after school activities you over fill their lives with to give you a sense of fulfillment will quite easily fit in the back of a sedan. You, however, are unsatisfied with anything short of a glorified tank capable of towing the QE2 to make the 8-block trip to do so. You are unable to go out in public in anything short of the monstrosity that you operate so poorly that you extend my drive to the office by 50%.

All is not lost, as I do have a solution for you. The next time you fill up your gigantic gas guzzling future piece of landfill, make a cell phone call. Or better yet, get in and out of the car a couple of times to build up a good static charge. Then stand really close to the gasoline nozzle and make just a tiny spark. The resulting explosion will mean one less person on a downtown street that can't reach half the speed limit, one less person in my parking ramp in the morning too worried about the top of their vehicle clearing the concrete support structure to do anything other than crawl, one less person in the fast lane of an interstate highway driving 55 miles an hour screaming at her kids who can't decide what DVD to watch in the backseat, and one less person occupying 2 parking spaces in front of the mall. If you are really smart, you will break the chain and make sure your husband is there with you, so that your children can grow up not learning from two complete f'uckwits that these activities are the norm, or even acceptable.

Ever anxious to see fire trucks at the local gas stations...
Moe

Do you do anything but complain? Jeez, I've never met anyone so negative in my life. You're boss is an idiot, and the people at Wal-mart are stupid and nobody can drive well excpet you and christ almighty put a sock in it already.

If life is so intolerable, if everyone around you is such an insigificant muck-dwelling trilobite, if no one around you can compare to the towering paragon of intellect, morality and brilliance that is Moebius, perhaps its time for you to ascend to a higher place.

Take your own advice, and end your miserable existence on this lowly plane. None of us are worthy to share the same existence with you, so please, do yourself a favor, though it may deprive us of the only true god amongst men, and die. I'm sure there's a special place waiting for you in the afterlife.

Edited, Wed Feb 18 13:26:17 2004 by Deathwysh

The name is not in vain, I see.

Humm

I can't help it - I find myself day by day genuinely more impressed with Moe's "101 ingenious ways to rid humanity of one's presence"

Its like, okay now.............. humm where's the Moe and how can i self destruct on this fine sunny morning..



although i don't understand why someone with so any words at his disposal has to resort to .......bah okay we'll leave that for later - I have non game related spells to go buy :)

Soccer Mom's in SUV's are almost as bad as all the damn snow birds. These stupid old people don't know how to drive in a city since they spent most of their miserable lives in the middle of fuc*ing nowhere. The drive their 80's Cadillac like there is no one on the road. They drive 35 on the freeway and refuse to look at ALL before making a lane change! They make me want to drag them out of their car and give them a thorough beating.

Old people should NOT be able to drive. I swear 16 year old's drivers here are better then these idiots. Maybe while filling up their Cadillac next time they can forget the pump is on, pass out and lay in the gasoline as a smoker passes by and desides its a good idea to throw a cigarette into the puddle!