Corvette People
by James MacLaren
Oh brother but do these people ever suck. I guess that it’s nice they take the time to label themselves clearly so you can get ready for them when you see them approaching. Driving that damnable go-fast car is like wearing a sign that says “I’m a complete butthole.”
It’s the only nice thing they’ll ever do for you.
Nine out of ten of them are guys, but there’s just enough pushy middle aged bitches with bleach blond hair and wearing too much make up thrown into the demographic to be statistically significant as well.
These are people who seem to have nothing going for them, figured that out early in life, and who then managed to acquire enough filthy lucre to allow them to PURCHASE a personality.
A personality manifested as car that costs as much as some people’s homes, drives comfortably at seventy miles an hour above the speed limit, and isn’t big enough to carry a Chihuahua in.
Can you say, “Complete waste of money?” I knew you could.
In lieu of being able to drive the damn thing around town at its design speed of warp nine, the idiot owners instead must console themselves with merely being able to pull out in front of you when you’re ten feet up the road from them, squeal tires like the maniacs they are, and barely manage to avoid a collision that would reduce their pretty plastic playtoy to condition resembling a VCR that had been thrown off of the tenth floor balcony into the parking lot.
That this annoys the living hell out of EVERYBODY else in the whole world, only seems to give these misanthropes some sort of deranged pleasure.
Figures. None of the bastards have any social skills at all.
When they come into the damn Inconvenience Store, count on them to position themselves in such a manner as to show off whatever expensive riggery they’re wearing that day. Also count on them to attempt to jump the line whenever possible, and act as if they’re doing you a major favor to merely grace your worthless life with their gleaming presence. Sneers and condescending voice modulations are a given.
That someone would actually have a NEED to demonstrate that they’re superior to a fucking Inconvenience Store clerk tells the whole story. These fucks have exactly zero self esteem and are doomed to live a Twilight Zone existence of attempting to somehow rectify that problem by trying to push everyone they meet to a lower level instead of raising themselves up a notch or two.
Jesus, but that’s gotta suck, don’t it?
Fuck off, asshole.
