The Commute - Part II: Passing Side, Suicide.

While this isn't so much another post about the ups and downs (mostly downs) of traffic duirng prime to/from work hours, it's still about driving.  Being Bullshitter-in-Chief of this joint allows me to call this a part two, even though it really has almost nothing to do with the first one other than the fact that cars and big roads are involved.

Sometimes the highway can give you something other than a headache.

Oh, I'm sorry -- were you expecting a herpes joke here?

It's almost 2010, folks.  Not only will it be a new year, but a whole new fucking decade.  You think I'm going to keep making these little STD jokes in the new year?

If you thought "no," you thought wrong.  You should know this by now:  STD jokes, sexual innuendo and four-letter words are the key ingredients to this incredibly sophisticated, high-brow blog.  "If it ain't broken," dig?

I was going to keep this short, so I should get back on crack.  Er -- track.  I need to get back on track.

Fuck.

So, while driving down the highway, this semi had passed us at one point because some douche from Illinois was having the hardest time trying to locate the gas pedal in his Buick.

Thank God for that douche from Illinois, because I saw the most amazing set of signs I'd ever seen on the back of any truck:

If for whatever reason you can't see what's printed on the two yellow stickers on either side of the truck; the left sticker has "PASSING SIDE" on it, while the other has "SUICIDE" printed on it.

This is what we need more of in this world.  Honest, straight-forward signs.

Plus, it fucking rhymes.  We love things that rhyme here in America.  Just look at every catchy, shitty pop song we have that we can't seem to get enough of.