Five Seconds to the Apocalypse [Hey, You!]
You are the impatient, screaming psycho who spoiled a nice drive with my wife on Pacific Coast Highway in Dana Point. I had the audacity to want to turn onto a side street leading to a local restaurant. You immediately pulled up behind me and started blasting your horn and screaming as if your testicles were caught in a mousetrap. I probably delayed you no more than five seconds. To you, it was the apocalypse. After I turned off PCH, you sat there screaming for another five seconds. Why, isn't that what you were just yelling at me about? Relax, douchebag, we live in the most beautiful place on Earth; there's no need to EVER get that upset. I hope you were able to recover from those wasted seconds I cost you. I hope you are not raising children, and I hope you don't stroke out somewhere on the way to vote for Donald Trump.
Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to firstname.lastname@example.org.
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