Driving in Hell.

I can only surmise that, upon my demise, when I am sent to roast in the fires of Hades, my afterlife will consist of an eternity of driving conditions just like today. It's less than two weeks before Christmas, which means that people's brains are already the consistency of tapioca due to a combination of being forced to listen to Christmas music for approximately the last 8 months and also due to the looming stress of "ZOMG THEY'RE OUT OF ZUZU PETS!!!11111"

[deep cleansing breaths]

In amongst the various and sundry whiteheads out meandering all over the road and stopping for no apparent reason, I happened upon a slow-motion train wreck that cements my opinion that yes, we did evolve from apes and yes, we are quickly devolving back into the simian order. This person (I'm not really certain if they were male or female and would rather stick my head in a gas oven than find out) not only stopped in the middle of the divided road, they started backing up.

I'm watching this Chevy slowly inch its way towards me, and all I can think of is that this jackass is gonna bounce off my front end and then claim I hit them. I'm honking the horn, screaming out the window, and actually put the car in Park and started to get out - that way, when my car gets hit, witnesses can attest that I was not driving. The aliens from Planet Weembo controlling this... creature's higher motor functions (no mind control here) must have caught on, because when it was approximately 5 picometers from my bumper it abruptly stopped backing up, put its car in gear, and took off like nothing happened.

Which is a good thing, because if it had hit my car I'm pretty sure I would have beaten it to death with a Yule log, and then 0bama would be pushing for "Yule Log Control"...

That is all.