Monthly Archives: July 2012

Texas Drivers – Worst Drivers Ever?

I’m not sure I should have a question mark on the end of the title.  It’s really not a question, I believe it to be true.  Texas drivers are the worst drivers ever.  I can’t substantiate this with anything other than anecdotal evidence, but that’s going to have to be enough.  Allow me to present my case:

Texas drivers, at least the millions that I’ve encountered on the highways in my years living here, don’t believe in turn signals.  You can never tell when they’re merging, you can’t tell when they’re turning, they don’t even know that they’re doing either of these things until they’ve already done them.  This is tricky when you’re driving behind one of them and they slam on their brakes to turn into a neighborhood.  This is also problematic when they look at you, acknowledge your presence next to them on the highway, speed up, cut you off, and then slow down.  Shit, if any of you would just use that little clicky-doo right next to your hand on the steering wheel, I would probably let you over and sing your praisesMaybe it’s just Texans rallying against the oppressive government, those pesky Democrats, trying to make the roads safer.  I’m not really sure, though it is true that using turn signals makes you a Marxist-homosexual-fundamentalist.

To make matters worse, one normally needs to merge multiple lanes just to get out of the cluster-fuck traffic that seems to exist everywhere in the DFW area.  This isn’t necessarily a driver’s fault, but more likely the fault of the drunken child who clearly drew out the road systems here.


Here’s where this shit is your fault.  If you choose to change lanes at the moment a ramp is merging onto the highway, you deserve to be kicked in the throat. This is a daily battle for me, and I’m sure you’ve experienced it yourself.  It’s that moment when you run out of road and the soccer-mom-nazi in the minivan with the cell phone and batshit crazy makeup decides she wants to be where you’re going to be in a few seconds.  It’s the moment where you realize that death lurks around every corner, and sometimes death is a crazy bitch named Jessikah driving a Toyota Sienna like that ice cream truck-driving clown in Twisted Metal.  The things I have yelled out the window at Jessikah should probably never be repeated anywhere, so I will spare you.


This brings me to my next point.  The horn.  Every time I honk at one of you fuckers, even if you are clearly in the wrong, you act like I’m taking a dump in your living room, in front of your whole family.  If all I’m doing is honking at you after you’ve nearly killed me, then chalk that shit up as a “win” and give me the apology wave.  Give me some form of acknowledgement that yes, you did something stupid, and no, you won’t do it again.  In 30 seconds.  To that car in front of me.  Christ.

I could probably go on for paragraphs, and maybe there will be an addendum to this post, but for now that’s all the chiding I have in me.  You’re winning, Texas.  I’m too tired to bitch anymore.


A drunk Texan on Craigslist at 10:00 in the morning.

So here’s the deal:  Like many other people trying to make a little cash these days, I’ve taken to Craigslist to unload some of my stuff.  Most of the interactions I’ve had have been harmless or even garnered positive results (two guitars sold!).  Granted, Craigslist is risky for everyone involved.  You never really know who you’re meeting, or the quality or authenticity of what you’re buying, but I’ve been pleasantly surprised with the results thus far.  I’ve been honest and fair in my selling practices, and aside from being mildly creepy, the buyers too have been honest and fair in purchasing.

All that said, I was messaged by a lunatic this morning.  I’m listing a flute for purchase for 100 bucks.  It’s hardly been used, and working at a music store, I know what these things are worth.  I had considered my listing to be pretty straight-forward:

“Hey folks, looking to sell an FA Reynolds student level flute. This is a flute produced in Abilene, TX, and is in great shape. You’ll be able to see how beautiful this instrument is from the pictures, and apparently the pads even look pretty good, though it may need a couple. It comes with a hard case and has been very gently used. Normally a student flute will go for upwards of $400 dollars, so this seems to be a fair asking price.

Check out the pics!”

At the bottom one can view four pictures of the flute.

Easy-peasy-no-fucking-problem, right?  Wrong.

I woke up this morning, after a 3 day flu that has decimated my stomach and sense of reality, and checked my e-mail.  There, I found the ramblings of a mad man.  Or a genius:

“Great looking flute, kinda small, though. Guess all they’ve got to do in Abilene is play small flutes when they’ve not rounding up rattle snakes to play. Ever seen a clarinet chasing a rattle snake? How about a trombone going after a small monkey riding a dogs back dressed up like a cowboy? Just kidding!!! I’ll give you $10 for your tiny flute, cash money, US dollars.”

I suppose I should also clarify – this is a normal sized flute.  Nothing crazy about it.  It’s not a magnet or a novelty for a pet mouse.  It’s a flute.

Initially, I was offended.  How dare this fucker talk to me about snakes and trombones and then offer me 1/10th of my asking price… how dare he call my flute tiny!

Then I thought about it from the perspective of a harmless, possibly inebriated Texan, perusing Craigslist at 10:00 in the morning, looking for the perfect tiny flute.  I have brought his dreams to fruition and he thinks I’ve typo’d and added an extra “0” to the $10 price tag this tiny flute should have.  It all makes perfect sense and I’ll be meeting up with him to exchange this flute made for such small hands for the $10 he proposed.

Or not.

One more reason, Texas.  Just one more reason I hate you.

Also: I was able to figure out his real name thanks to his ridiculous e-mail address, just in case this is to be an ongoing exchange.  I always like to know who I’m having an exchange with.