Loonies on the Path - LVI - Its A Full Moon

I'll kill you for your parking space!
Hey lady, you lady, in the Jeep SUV barreling straight at me on the wrong side of the road. Yeah, I see you. I'm turning into a parking space and you are flooring your gas pedal and coming straight at me with a clear threat of killing me in order to take my parking space by violent force. You're way over there and I'm right here, turning into it. But you have gunned it and come right at me. You skidded sideways and slid into the space, clearly trying to murder me over the space. And then you sit there in the Jeep and don't get out because you don't want to face me. More importantly, you don't want me to see your face. You are ashamed of what you just did, which is ironic considering the enthusiasm with which you did it. The thing is, you work with me. We work together on the same floor and sit in the same aisle at work. It's right up there in that building you just parked in front of. See it? That's our desks up there. And we work together. And I know your name. And now I know what a total shit you can be when you get behind the wheel.

I'll kill you to exit in front of you!
The work day is over now. It's 5 o'clock and already dark out. There is a full moon in the sky as I'm driving to the parking lot exit. I'm nearly there when a black woman with her head nearly shaved comes speeding across the parking lot from my left. There is another car in front of her, also speeding like hell. That car races to get in front of me as I reach the exit. He barely makes it, cutting directly in front of me. And then the black woman in the silver Lexus, glued to his rear bumper, comes skidding in, too. I have to hit the brakes to keep from being hit by her. I honk at her. Predictably, she stops short. Yeah, she stops short, as if my honking at her has offended her after she nearly killed me cutting in front of me as she skidded left while I was going straight. In no part of the United States does a car turning left have the right of way over a car going straight. Nowhere. But this is a black Memphis diva with her head shaved. It's all about her. Everything, everywhere is all about her. And don't you DARE honk at her, no matter what she's just done to you. Don't you DARE.

It's all about me
I used to work with a black man from Oakland, California who wasn't shy about speaking his mind. He used to say that the hardest part of being a black man was dealing with black women. And black women with ultra short hair or shaved heads were the worst of them all. They are the queens of hostile narcissism. They live in their own little kingdoms where no one else can coexist with them because there isn't room for another person besides themselves. And now, here is one skidding right in front of me, nearly killing me because she is going to get in front of me no matter what it takes and no matter who she has to run over. It might kill her even, were I to survive the collision, get out, and shoot her in the face as Memphis drivers often do. Not that she would have stuck around after the wreck or anything. That's another thing about Memphis drivers like this one - they'll hit you and then just speed off. They're much too important to stop and see if anyone is hurt or exchange information or any of that white people shit. They just hit you and run. They have places to be, people to kill, a kingdom to run.
I'll kill you to turn before you!
After I exit the parking lot and pull into traffic, bitch in the silver Lexus goes straight. I have to turn onto another road. As I do, another bald-headed black woman in a shit-brown Toyota gets in behind me. She's glued to my ass like a bumper sticker and immediately she starts weaving angrily, threatening to pass me by driving headlong into the steady stream of oncoming cars on the opposite side of the road. It's a fucking 2-lane road and there's a solid line of cars in front of me. It isn't as if I'm going slow. I'm going as fast as anyone can without hitting the car in front of them. But that's not good enough for Queen Latifah here. She's climbing up my trunk and trying to drive into my car with me just to let me know how impatient she is. We turn onto another street and as we near the intersection where we all have to turn left, she guns it to cut me off before I can get into the turn lane. She nearly hits my rear quarter as she cuts in on my left side and blocks me from getting over. Of course, its a solid 100 yards before anyone actually NEEDS to get into the turning lane, but by God she is going to be FIRST if she has to ram into every single car trying to get over. And of course she has no blinker on because blinkers are for stupid white people. Her shit brown Toyota is her royal chariot which she uses like a bald black Ben-Hur. You'd think she had wheel spikes mounted on every axle the way she's swerving in on people, clearly trying to threaten anyone who attempts to share the turning lane with her. And now I'm in right behind her, my blinker calmly flashing. And, predictably, she stops short. Yes, she's mad that I got into the turning lane behind her when I could have rammed her in the side and then demanded that she be ticketed for driving in the turning lane, which is illegal. Not that she would have stuck around for a police report or anything. She's MUCH too important for that. She's the Queen of Memphrica! She isn't going to stop for a wreck she caused. She's going to just speed on away. Because that's how it's done in Memphis.

I'll kill you just for fun
For the next 3 miles she and I are driving next to each other down this road we've both turned onto. She knows she fucked me over and she had hoped to just speed away and leave it all behind her. Narcissistic cunts usually do that, fuck you over and then speed away as if they are so important that they have to drive extra fast to be somewhere. In Redneckville where I used to live, Jeremy, the pickup truck fuckwad who ran over a classmate and left him in a wheelchair, ran me and my Mrs off the road on multiple occasions  and assaulted my wife twice, used to pretend he was a cop, speeding everywhere he went as if he was on an emergency call. He and his white trash friends in their white trash pickups would all pretend to be cops, parking in the center of the road blocking traffic with their trucks side-by-side, going in opposite directions, and hang out the window to talk, just like the police do. Except they weren't police. They were just white trash, meth-addicted, felonious rednecks who were vaguely connected to fire captain Reeves through his white trash son. But that was enough, they felt, to make them important. They could do anything they pleased, just like the police do, because when the police were called on them and their many crimes reported, they could just drop Captain Reeves name and say "I'm friends with Little Reeves Junior" and that would be enough to get them total immunity no matter what crime they had committed. That's how Jeremy escaped prosecution for intentionally running over a kid walking along the roadside and leaving him crippled. That's how he got away with a whole stream of criminal shit. That's how it worked back in Redneckville, which is why it was nothing but a low-class hateful little town and was never going to be anything more. At least, it WAS until someone managed to get the attention of the Department of Justice and had the whole system turned upside down. The mayor was 'invited' to retire rather than be prosecuted. The chief of police and his captain were fired. Replacements were chosen after a new mayor was elected, with the understanding from the DoJ that the old system of favors for redneck friends of firemen and police would no longer be tolerated. And things changed for the better for the first time in generations.

Ya'll ain't from 'roun' here, air ye?
But now here we are in the heart of Memphis and it isn't entitled little rednecks I'm dealing with. It's narcissistic black women with shaved heads and the same entitlement attitude as the KKK members back in Redneckville. So here we are, you and me, driving side-by-side down this road, mostly because I choose to sit right beside you and get a good look at your face. I want to make sure you see mine, too, because I know that anonymity is the preferred choice of people who drive like you do. People who imagine themselves suddenly powerful and entitled the instant they get behind the wheel of their cars almost never want a direct face-to-face confrontation with a real live human being. They don't want their faces seen. They don't want a conversation. And when I hang my hand out the window and extend my middle finger right to your face, right in the middle of rush hour traffic where everyone can see who is getting the bird for being a selfish bitch, you really don't like the embarrassment of that. It's like a temporary label slapped on your windshield that says "selfish cunt" in big flashing red letters. And it is entirely deserved.

Hi there!
So you quickly turned and went into Shelby Farms to escape the consequences of your actions. And I suppose you figured that was the last of it, eh? You figured you'd never have to face me? But the very next day, just this morning as you were pulling into the parking lot at work, there we both were, you going into the building where you work, and me going in the building right across from you to my work. And we'll be seeing each other every single workday for a very long time to come, won't we? I hope that makes you uncomfortable, because the way you drive you deserve to feel uncomfortable. Actually, what you deserve is for everyone in your office to know how you drive and to despise you for it. Too bad they don't read this blog. Otherwise, they might read this and say "Hey, I know who he's writing about! He's writing about YOU!"

And that would embarrass you.

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