Archive for Transport

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.

 

 

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Winter – A Time To Share Sickness.

Posted in Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 3, 2008 by Buck Frain

So this is winter. Winter started two days ago and already it feels like there has never been anything else. Miserable bastard cold that soaks into your bones but that you feel guilty whinging about unless you’ve never been to a country where they have a real winter. Melbourne winter sucks, but if you were English and looked at the technical specifications you’d think of it as a rather mild summer. Of course, if you were Canadian you’d just laugh in my face or beat me with an ice hockey stick for even suggesting that we have a winter.

Aside from the bed-inertia that comes over me in winter, I don’t mind it. Except for sickness. Naturally, I don’t like getting sick myself, but other people’s sickness is what is truly detestable, and the beginning of the season it seems everyone gets something. Public transport becomes a disease swap-meet – sniffles, sneezes and coughs all on offer, the freshest and latest bacterial and viral concoctions, some oldies and some newies so resistant to modern treatments you’ll get comments back from the pathology lab doing your blood tests, or maybe even a personal letter from Kofi Annan suggesting you let weapons inspectors into your lungs.

Seriously, what the biologically-terrorising fuck is wrong with people? On the train this morning most of the diseased commuters were politely mopping their sniffles with tissues or covering their mouths to cough, except the middle-aged gentleman opposite me. Sitting there reading a book, not attempting to cover the occasional coughs that burst from him. The first cough surprised me and I realised I was in some danger of infection, but it was just one cough and, hell, maybe it crept up on him, maybe he was just too embarrassed to apologise for it. No. A few minutes later a little double cough, again no reaction. The fucker was doing it deliberately. He just didn’t give a fuck about anyone else. He could turn the pages of his book OK, so his fucking arms worked fine, maybe he was just so pissed of about being ill that he thought he’d take it out on the rest of the train. Maybe his head was so far up his own arse that the idea of other people hadn’t occurred to him at all. It was at this point I realised my circulation was fine, all of a sudden I was warm, even starting to sweat a little.

The third cough came. Again, this selfish fucker did nothing to cover his filthy diseased mouth. Excuse me, I said, would you cover your mouth when you cough please? He stared blankly at me. Did he not understand? You were coughing. Could you cover your mouth when you cough?, I restated. I was pretty happy with my composure, I was Mr Calmly-Assertive and I felt the few commuters aware of our interaction were probably understanding where I was coming from. Still, he met me with a blank stare and then went back to reading.

OK, don’t lose your mind. Maybe he’s got the message. Maybe he feels humiliated to be coached on cold etiquette on public transport and at his age. Let it go.

Again! He fucking coughed again! Didn’t cover it – cunt! HEY!!!, Now I had his attention, and pretty much everyone in the carriage had turned to see what was going on, but there was no way of bringing my tone down to a more intimate level. If you’ve got to cough, cover your fuckin’ mouth! Do you understand me? I’ve asked you nicely, now stop coughing in my fucking face. He was just staring at me. He went to return to his book again. HEY! I’m fucking talking to you! You’re sick. I don’t want your cold, so cover your mouth. Do you fucking understand? DON’T COUGH IN MY FACE! He was well aware that he was in trouble, he knew the game was up, but a nervous cough escaped him and he didn’t raise a hand. That was when I lost my mind. I leapt forward and placing one hand behind him onto the back of his head, I clamped my other hand over his mouth and screamed into his eyes: COVER YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, YOU DISEASED CUNT! PEOPLE HAVE TO LIVE AND WORK, THEY DON’T WANT YOUR FUCKING SICKNESS. COVER YOUR SHITTY MOUTH WHEN YOU COUGH OR STAY THE FUCK HOME! I SEE YOU NOT COVER YOUR MOUTH AGAIN, I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!!!

I had been shaking his head on every syllable. In his eyes was sheer mortal terror. I let him go. Everyone was looking at the madman. That was me. Ooh. I had just threatened a man’s life. On a packed train. Step away from the scared man. Nothing to see here. The train pulled into a station, not mine, I got off anyway. I waited for the next train.

I feel extremely stupid and ashamed, and I’m jumping at every little sound because I’m expecting it to be the police come to cart me away. I’m not a violent person, I’m not a crazed, militant, vigilante type, and I didn’t hurt the man. Despite what you may think from what you read here, I don’t put my hands on people, I’m all talk. I just hate bad manners and I really hope if I ever see the coughing man again that he just doesn’t cough in my face. I don’t think I’d go well in prison.