Dear moron

You may have still been out courageously and selflessly completing a long night's work at 6am this morning. If the demands of a long night's labor finally exhausted you and you were asleep, you would not have heard the faint sound of clapping. That was my applause, my salute to you for nobly doing what was required to make ends meet.

I understand that a block of unattended cars at 3 am is more appealing than a job application, a shelter or stumbling aimlessly with your ilk through city streets. If you hadn't humbly slipped away before I woke up, I would've loved to have shook your hand, crack under the nails and all. The way you meticulously emptied out the glove compartment onto the floor, thoughtfully spreading every item around to artfully emulate a tornado raping a car, I imagine. A tornado of futility... well done.

I can only express my apologies that the ipod you made away with (you know, the nearly worthless model whose screen looks like a Gameboy from 1989?) is on its last leg. The battery is basically shot and the songs have been skipping. Hell, aside from the Stevie Nicks, most of the music has been allocated to the maximum number of unique computers so you wont be able to pass along Cobalt Season to all your friends on their new MacBook Pros.

Oh, and also, apologies for not leaving a Stickie note on the garage clicker in the center console explaining where it works. Turns out it's for the parking lot at the Chron, which you'll never realize. Aside from that, I just feel horrible that you found absolutely nothing of value in the car. If I'd have known you were going to grace me with your presence, I would've left something other than receipts, Jean's Mariah Carey CD, and gum. I'm sorry, Moron.

One last thing: if you would please pass along my regards to your friend Jackass. I had the misfortune of witnessing that horrible incident on Mission St yesterday where that city bus nudged his wheelchair as he was doing that thing he does where he pretends to be a zombie and pulls himself across the street with his pigeon feet as he lies limp in the chair and stares off, screaming at passers-by. He is pretending, isn't he? Anyway, that bus had no right to go on a green light and he should've seen Jackass rolling between cars. At least my tax dollars were there to care for him; all four fire crews made it to the scene to attend to him as he waited passively in his wheel chair. Traffic was only tied up for 6 city blocks, no big deal.

So, in closing: thank you, Moron and Jackass. You add the simple things to life that make each day (and early morning) a real treat.

Fuck you,

Me