In my mind there’s an imaginary island. An island that once you get to, you can’t come back. It’s called the Island of Assholes, and it’s where I banish people who have caused me grief, or irritated me in some way. Their punishment is to spend the rest of their lives surrounded with people as dumb as they are. It makes me feel better, although sometimes I get so wrapped up in my imagination that when I see people I’ve recently banned, I wonder how the hell they got off of the island. Then reality hits, and I realize that there is no island and I’m stuck coexisting with these assholes forever, which is fine since I suppose I can be an asshole myself sometimes.
For my first public banishing, I choose the people that drive mopeds. Generally speaking this will be the inexperienced teenage driver, and the drunkards that have lost their license. Take your moped, that goes thirty miles an hour at best, going downhill, on a windy day, and get your ass to the island! I’m tired of you slowing me down while I’m on my way to a very important destination. And by “important destination” I mean my twenty-four hour Wal-Mart. Put the booze away, get a real car, and quit being a road hazard to those of us that like to text and drive a hundred miles an hour.
Moped drivers, you are officially banished.