THE REAL REASON I CANNOT BE KING
Today (well, yesterday now) I drove out to Santa Monica to shop and to see what was happening at Bergamot Station (an enclave of art galleries). I also took a little stroll up the bluff trail overlooking the beach, where I met a little lizard sunning himself (he deserves a separate post). I started driving back a little past 4:00 PM, and by the time I got back to my downtown loft it was nearly 7:00 PM. Three mortal hours to get from Santa Monica to L.A.! Granted, that was extreme even by L.A. standards, but not by a whole lot. And there were enough encounters along the way with inconsiderate, incompetent and plain dangerous drivers to convince me that there are too many people on the road that should not be driving at all.
The late great comedian George Carlin said it's no wonder there are so many traffic accidents; the roads are full of maniacs and idiots -- the maniacs being whoever drove faster than George Carlin, and the idiots being whoever drove slower than George Carlin. I realize I, too, am being rather subjective here, as I'm not always all that courteous or so wonderfully nimble myself (I've long since unburdened myself of the suspicion that I may be a good or useful person in general), but it seems to me the quality of drivers around me has been noticeably eroding every year.
Yes, I'm an angry person. That's why I cannot and must not be King. I would be t̶u̶r̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ g̶r̶e̶e̶n̶ sentencing people to death left and right every day.
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