Archive for Driving

Old People Are Rubbish.

Posted in Wankers In Denial with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 7, 2009 by Buck Frain

RENTON:   Right. So we all get old and then we can’t hack it any more. Is that it?

SICK BOY:   Yeah.

 

RENTON:   That’s your theory?

 

SICK BOY:   Yeah, beautifully fucking illustrated.

 

RENTON:   Give me the gun. 

 

Old people fuck me off, I’m not going to lie about it. They just give me the fucking shits. I mean, I completely understand that I’m headed that way, as we all are. I’ll get old, I’ll lose my shit and I’ll die. Inevitable…unless I get killed while I still have my faculties – which, considering how many people I seem to piss off, is a real possibility. I know there are a load of things that old people are great for – stealing prescription drugs from, telling really long, pointless anecdotes badly, smelling weird – but generally, old people are rubbish and nowhere is this more apparent than on the road.

 

Twice today I’ve nearly been killed by stupid old wankers in cars. The first was a senile old bint who was so shrunken she could barely see between the steering wheel and the dash. Long after the light had turned red and people filed onto the pedestrian crossing this daft old crone pilots her ancient Peugeot through the intersection. I was over half-way across the road so she’d had plenty of chance to work out the light was red. Two people ahead of me leapt forward to get out of the way, I had to jump back wards to avoid being hit. As I went back I slapped the roof of the car as it went past. Eventually she reacted, screeching to a halt, gazing around, wide-eyed, spasmodically gaping and pouting like a fish drowning in air and blinking furiously behind coke-bottle glasses.

 

THE LIGHT’S FUCKING RED!!!, I screamed.

 

She continued pathetically to fish-mouth at the world and blink, I made my way to the imagined safety of the footpath. The lights changed. She stayed there. The cars behind her started to blast horns at her to move her decrepit arse out of the shitting way. This spooked her even more and I was starting to wonder whether she was having some kind of stroke when finally synapses must have fired and with a cliché grind of gears, the old beast lumbered into motion and lurched unsteadily across the intersection before limping on up the road. God help the poor fuckers up there.

 stupid_old_driver

Deciding I needed to take a breather from the world I ordered a coffee at a nearby café and sat at one of their outdoor tables on the footpath where I could watch the world go by…or so I thought. A geriatric fuckstick in a late 70s BMW dropped in on me. Literally. He reverse parallel parked his way into my table. Slowly. Meticulously. He reversed until the back wheel of the BMW mounted the curb. Then he continued…into the steel barriers the café had erected next to their tables. Neither the sensation nor the noise of the collision registered. I stepped away from the table and yelled an indignant Hey! as he continued back pushing barrier into chair into table and scraping Jesus out of the side of what had looked to have been a pristine automotive specimen. Still no reaction from Jurassic Heidfeld. Satisfied, he applied the handbrake, turned the car off and got out. He wouldn’t have looked back except that I finally broke his fog with a hearty:

 

HEY! Nice parking, mate!

 

Whaaat?, He enquired.

 

I said NICE PARKING!!! What are you doing? You just parked in my fucking coffee!

 

Again just the vulnerable, vacant stare of second childishness.

 

Look! Look at this. You could have killed someone. Look! Are you blind? You’re on the footpath, you smashed into all this stuff! Didn’t you hear it???

 

Slowly he came around and saw the remains of a bent chair trapped between barrier and a now-mashed-but-sturdily-bolted-down table. He studied the side of his car and the damage. Eventually looking up he asked:

 

Are you alright?

 

Yes, I’m fine, but fuck dude, maybe you shouldn’t be driving! You could have killed someone.

 

Oh…(long pause while he gave the impression of considering all this new information)…sorry.

 

And that was it. He just shambled off across the street to do whatever crazy old man shit he had to do. I was amazed. WHAT THE SHIT??? The café manager came out, he was righteously fucked off at his bent table and chair arrangement. I explained what had happened, left my details with him if the police or insurance needed a statement and left him to it.

 

Why the backed-up-colostomy-bag don’t old people just admit it? I mean, they must fucking realise that their reflexes are shot to shit, that their peripheral vision is virtually non-existent and that their brains have scaled back all sensory input to a bare minimum despite the world carrying on just as it always has. Surely they must realise they’ve fucking lost it! I guess like the rest of the species they’re just in denial about their own shitness. I suppose it makes sense, why start facing up to it after the fun bits have gone and you’re back to shitting your pants, eating dog food and begging for attention.

 

The only responsible solution for society is that we take their fucking licences away so they can’t destroy the lives of people who still have something to live for. Fucking test their reflexes, test their vision and hearing. Every fucking year! and as soon as they start to lose their shit cut the shitting licence up. Fuck them. Let the old fuckers walk home, or catch the bus or buy a fucking zimmer frame. Anything so long as they’re not running over people who’ve still got some miles on the clock. SELFISH OLD SHIT-SACKS!!!

 

You think I’m being ageist? Fuck you! I’ll take the fucking test. I don’t fucking care. Make everyone take it. I’m happy for anyone who’s a useless fucktard to be taken off the road. I’m happy for us to start euthanasing the pathologically useless en masse. I mean, tolerance is great but I don’t want to get killed by it! FUCKIN’ WAKE UP, HUMANITY, IT’S NOT LIKE WE’RE SHORT OF PEOPLE ON THIS ROCK!!!

Eugenic Fantasies Inspired By Vocal Toolishness.

Posted in Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 22, 2008 by Buck Frain

 

Yobbos who yell things out of cars. They are the stupidest creatures on the planet. Aside from the fact that they have nothing to say to anyone ever because their brains have atrophied from a lack of education and an excess of pre-mixed bourbon and cola, they fail to realize that whatever they scream out of the window of their work-in-progress Holden Commodores is unintelligible to anyone other than themselves. The slurred speech of drunken fucktards is bad enough but when flying past at 80km/h it’s completely indecipherable. It might as well be shrieking baboons. In fact, if angry baboons were caning a Commodore up Royal Parade shrieking at cyclists you probably wouldn’t know the difference. I’m pretty sure they weren’t baboons.

 

I find cycling quite a focused experience. There are plenty of things to be watchful for, fuckwits opening car doors without looking, fuckwits changing lanes without looking, fuckwits in trucks, taxis, buses, old fuckwits in hats, fuckwits in Volvos, any fuckwit with a fish sticker anywhere on their car and all manner of other psychopaths. But despite the exhaust fumes and the constant threat of death, there is something free and solitary about cycling that I like. Plus, it keeps me away from the plethora of annoying cunts I might take to task for their various transgressions should I be locked in close quarters with them on public transport. Yes, cycling is wonderful…until some cockbrain screams in your ear as he and his fuckwit mates hoon past. Screaming…for free…just because they’re tools.

 

It had been a quiet ride, so the jolt of random, aggressive toolishness scared the absolute shit out of me, I swerved away from the sudden noise and realised this placed me on a collision course with a very nice parked BMW, still spooked, I think I must have over-corrected and braked at the same time. After that everything is crystalline: the front wheel locked and its tyre gripped the bitumen perfectly pitching the back wheel off the ground and me forward towards a muddy white lane marking on the oily black road. My hands came out in front of me by reflex and I thought for a fragment of a second I might be able to roll out of it. One of my shoe cleats, however, had not disengaged from the pedal so the bike pursued me and, as my body was slowed by its impact with the somewhat unforgiving tarmac, my bike found safe refuge by pounding itself into the yielding softness of MY BALLS!!! Fade to grey.

 

I lay tangled in my bike in a crumpled mess on the road. My face resting against the soothingly cool, filthy bitumen, my knees and hands hurting somewhere vaguely in the distance. I writhed half-heartedly in near silence for a while. The all-consuming grey fog of ball-pain gradually lifted and I kicked myself free of the bike, rolling over to inspect the damage. Torn jeans, minor grazing, some juicy bruises to look forward to – Ah, get fucked! The bike appeared fine so with effort I gathered myself up.

 

The last time I fell off my bike was 1989…hmm, that unique mixture of pain and humiliation never changes. My inner seven year-old wanted to cry but thankfully my inner nine year-old was there to call him a pansy so we all got ourselves on the bike and eased into the tight, uncomfortable ride home you get peddling with unskinned flesh.

 

I’ve always been averse to notions like eugenics but…maybe I’ve been too hasty. Fuck ’em! If we could isolate the gene for a propensity to be a complete fuckhole in a car, and compulsorily sterilise anyone with it, the fuckwits will never pass it on to anyone ever again – the world would be a much better place. Genius, and while we’re in the lab there’s a whole bunch of other fuckers out there who shouldn’t be breeding. Bring it on! We can lay waste to all the world’s fuckwits, sure it’ll take a good 100 years for the current crop to die out, but what a grand day it would be, a world without fuckwits…

 

I think I need to have a lie down. Must take the helmet off.

 

 

http://humor-blogs.com/

 

Shutup, Sluthead! You’re not saying anything!

Posted in Human Stupidity with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 5, 2008 by Buck Frain

What the dog-felching fuck is wrong with motorists? The horn. The fucking car horn – the single most useless automotive accessory ever, with the possible exception of Baby On Board signs. Whilst everything to do with cars has been improved over the last 100 years, the horn has become electric and that’s it, other than that it’s the fucking same.

 

Indicators, on the other hand, are great. They’re articulate, they say: I’m turning left or I’m pulling over, if you count hazard lights as well: I’m a bit fucked right now, watch you don’t get fucked too. Horns do fuck all. The just scream AAARGH! indiscriminately at everyone nearby. Even variations in duration or number of horn-blasts communicate nothing except possibly a very subjective rendering of the user’s emotional state. They have no real meaning, there is nothing they communicate categorically, and this is largely because dumb-fuck motorists use them for everything huh, it makes a noise thus making their sound utterly redundant. Horns also have no direction and so no-one really knows who’s using the horn or who at, except the person using it huh, I told him stuff! It’s all cuntfully stupid.

 

How many times have you seen some suburban sluthead leaving a friend’s house and giving the horn a cheery beep beep! What the fuck? You said goodbye to your friend before getting in the car, you thanked them for dinner, you did all that, they already know you have a car, they know you’re in your car, they can fuckin’ see you! Why the horn? It’s fucked, it’s an absolute cunt and makes me want to chase their vehicle with a cricket bat and smash the weeping-arse fuck out of it. SHUT UP, YOU SHIT-EATING FREAK!!! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!

 

They think the beep beep! means something? Of course it doesn’t, the same sluthead will use the same beep beep! at the lights to gently wake up the catatonic fuck in front of him who’s turning right. Sluthead  will do this even though he can’t see the CF in front of him is not moving because of something like, oh, oncoming traffic. CF doesn’t interpret the beep beep! as good-natured. He thinks that Sluthead is having an impatient go at him, so in return, he gives him the finger. Fuckwits collide! You see how poor communication can lead to people being bludgeoned to death at the side of the road with tyre irons?

 

Personally, I have no sympathy. I think every car should have a loaded gun in it and it should be legal to shoot to death anyone who uses their car horn ever. In the name of articulate communication I say death to horn users. The horn is a piece of cowardly, passive-aggressive bullshit and has been rendered completely ineffective through misuse.

 

beep beep!

 

DIE, FUCKBAG! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Australia – Rule #1: Don’t Spill Ya Piss!

Posted in Human Stupidity with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 13, 2008 by Buck Frain

 

When I was in college a couple of my dear friends made up a list of rules for life. Rule number one was Don’t spill ya piss! (For the international visitors: “piss” is a colloquial term for any alcoholic beverage). The other rules slip my mind, the important thing was that every odd rule was Don’t spill ya piss!

 

Today I read this article about a driver pulled over in the Northern Territory who allowed his five year old child to sit on the floor of his car whilst his precious, his carton of beer, was safely secured to the back seat with a seat belt, between two other seat-belted adults. What a complete wanker.

 

This is about as Aussie as you can get. The only real cultural identity we have, outside of an unhealthy obsession with sports, is a culture of binge drinking which places more value on alcohol than even the safety of our own children. I suppose it’s only fitting seeing as the first currency of colonised Australia was rum.

 

When people ask me why I’m not patriotic I tell them because most of the people in any country are complete fuckwits, Australia is no different and I can’t really get fired up to associate myself with fuckwits. Patriotism is an archaic pile of horseshit, it’s just another version of tribalism, sectarianism, or a whole bunch of other –isms that attempt to disguise a very base animal behaviour, the aim of which is to alienate and ultimately kill anything other. Fuckin’ stupid monkeys! The only benefit in pulling this guy over and stopping him from killing everyone in his car was the possibility he might have taken a useful citizen or two with him.

 

I love a drink, beer is a great friend of mine, but people like this cunt just make me wish for the stupid-bomb to hurry up and cleanse the world of this plague of fools. Bring on the idiot apocalypse! Die you useless fucks! Please just die!

Bad Drivers – Give Me A Sign!

Posted in Human Stupidity with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on April 25, 2008 by Buck Frain

Bad drivers give me the absolute cunt. I love driving and I always have. I’m a good driver – still can’t say that without thinking of Rain Man – and it fucking kills me that so many people are fucking awful drivers.

Ooh, road rage, Buck? Very predictable, you’re the menace to society!

Fuck off, you shit-eating do-gooder! I’ve every right to be angry at bad driving. You’d be fucking angry if some mad person wandered through a shopping mall indiscriminately firing a gun, just randomly, for free. You’d be pissed off as hell, even if she was a really nice person and her husband was a dentist, you’d say Lock that mad bitch up! But, put the same dentist’s wife behind the wheel of, say a Ford Explorer, she’s talking on her phone, doing her make-up and disciplining her children in the back whilst piloting 2 tonnes of steel around at 60km/h and not really watching where she’s going. She won’t indicate because everyone gets out of her way anyway and cyclists are invisible to her. Can’t get angry with her! No way, she’s doing her best, calm down, take a chill pill. Fuck you! She’s murder waiting to happen, she’s the same mad bitch!

I don’t mean to demonise female drivers, it was only an example. Bad drivers come in all types across all demographics. Now I’m fired up, I don’t think I can tackle all of the bad driving thing in one post so today I’ll just focus on one element of bad driving – the misuse of indicators.

You’d imagine it’s pretty fuckin’ simple, wouldn’t you. You’ve got this lever on your steering column that controls lights on the outside of your vehicle that display to other road users your intended path. It’s easy, you did it in your driving test, but after that a bunch of people have forgotten completely. For a tutorial, if you need to brush up, go here. Please.

The most important thing is indicating BEFORE you turn or change lanes. There are so many fucking idiots out there that seem to think that better late than never has some relevance to indicating. They indicate to show you what they’ve already done. WAKE UP YOU USELESS FUCKTARD MEATBAGS! I CAN FUCKING SEE WHERE YOU ARE, YOU CUNT, I WANNA KNOW WHERE YOU’RE GOING SO I CAN STAY OUT OF YOUR CUNTING WAY!!!

Indicate, it’s in the word indicator. Indicate before you move, and if at all possible check mirrors and blind spots to ensure there’s no-one else already occupying the space that you intend to occupy. It’s not rocket science, it’s basic spatial awareness, a lack of which gives me the shits. Same principle as this.

Spatial awareness is knowing where you are in relationship to other objects in your surroundings and how that relationship will change in the near future as you and other objects around you change positions.

Then of course there’s the smart-arse fuckers who are way too important to bother using indicators at all. Why should they? They are the gods of the road, it’s their taxes that payed for the road so they go where-so-ever they please and don’t lower themselves to using the indicator lever. These are the real bastards. These fuckers, these WANKERS! They make me so fucking mad I want to shit my own pants, they weave everywhere braking nonsensically making driving a pure fucking hell. It’s like they want you to run into them. FUCKIN’ OVER-INSURED PRICKS, I’D KILL YOU IF I COULD AFFORD IT!

But you know that killing’s not really going to help. Education is the only answer. One day, it’s my greatest wish, that one day I’ll pull up behind one of these non-indicating arseholes at the lights, having put up with their smug refusal to consider other road users for several kilometres…

I’m calm. Professional. I step from my car, walk up to their driver’s window and tap gently on it, smiling benignly. I’m well-dressed and non-threateningly white, I say: Excuse me, I noticed back there… just low enough that he can’t hear all of what I’m saying as I point back down the road. 9 out of 10 would wind the window down, for sure. Quick as a flash, I reach in and snap his indicator lever from the steering column and brandishing it in his face, I scream into his window: SEEING AS YOU’RE NOT USING THIS, I’LL KEEP IT MY-FUCKING-SELF! IT’S AN INDICATOR, YOU CUNT!!!

I return to my vehicle and watch the offender kangaroo-hop away from the intersection, shell-shocked. I resume my journey with the wind in my hair and the radio blazing. Ha ha, fuckers!

10 People I’d Love To Smash – #4

Posted in 10 People I'd Love To Smash with tags , , , , , , , , on April 15, 2008 by Buck Frain

#4: Thomas Towle

If only it was against the law to be fucked in the head. If only there was some sort of test that everyone had to do to weed out the Criminally Fucked In The Head from the rest of us in order that regular citizens might be made a little safer. I’m not talking intellectual elitism, just filtering out the toxically imbecilic.

 

If it wasn’t in the news you’d never believe anyone could actually be this much of a fuckhead.

 

Imagine:  You used to have a problem with smack and amphetamines. That’s OK because you’re on methadone now. Although tonight you haven’t had your medication and you’re drunk instead. So you get in the car. Pissed. You’ve got a string of offences under your belt for drink-driving, driving while disqualified, you name it, you’re a serial offender when it comes to vehicles. Next, you put your kids in the car. Nine year old daughter in the back seat and your four year old son, who wants to drive like Dad, well what would any dad do? You put him on your knee and let him steer. Before you leave, your brother asks you if you’ve seen all the kids from the party down the road. You say you have. He tells you to be careful driving back. What happens next?

 

Because you’re Criminally Fucked In The Head, this: You drive at speeds of up to 150km/h with your four year old in your lap until you lose control of the car and plough into the group of teenagers you were warned about, killing six and wounding eight. Then… you run away, leaving your children, one of whom is also injured, behind in your car.

 

But, hang on, you then tell someone else to call an ambulance. I mean… you don’t call anyone yourself but you get it done, you’re not a monster.

 

 

Thomas Towle is appealing the 10 year sentence he has just received for six counts of dangerous driving causing death and four of dangerous driving causing serious injury, despite the fact that he could be out in only five years from now. Friends and relatives describe him as a very nice quiet person. He is a loving boy. He has always been lovely.

 

Rottweilers are often described as lovely by their owners, but they get put to sleep after mauling a child. Thomas Towle is a rottweiler who mauled 14 children. He’s human excrement. He should be used as a fucking speed hump. Nice guy? I don’t care. 10 years? Fuck you! This level of fuckheadedness should not be tolerated by society. He should never see the light of day again. What possible benefit does society gain by having someone like him re-introduced back into it? He is pathologically stupid, he’s an unredeemable menace to society. Why let him keep fucking up the lives of others? Fuck, I’d be happy to run the prick over, I’d back over him to make sure he was finished. It would be a mercy killing, a sweet mercy for society. Putting him out of our misery. Fuck you Thomas Towle, I hope you get stabbed in the fucking shower.