This morning I was cut-off by an asshole with a Jesus fish on his car. I'm not talking about a slight, sorry but I didn't see you cut-off. I'm talking about a narrowly escaped a five car pileup I had to slam on my brakes so hard that now I'm going to have to replace them six months earlier kind of cut off.
Where the fuck does a good Christian have to go so badly at 5:40 AM that he's willing to risk my life?
Because if Jesus was driving that fucking Toyota minivan on the New York State Thruway at 5 fucking 40 in the morning, I think he may have used his left hand turn signal and waited for an appropriate time to change lanes-- regardless of his urgency. But what do I know? I'm not a fucking Born Again Christian.
Just in case I missed the subtle Jesus Fish, Mr. Turn the Other Cheek While I Ram my Toyota Sienna Up Your Ass had a hot pink bumper sticker proclaiming his love for Jesus for all the world to see. Thanks a lot Dickhead! Now, I know who to hate.
I'm glad you love Jesus. You know what I love? I love masturbating.
But I don't slap a fucking bumper sticker on the back of my car so I can feel better than you.
Look, God knows that I rarely honored my mother and father, I often covet my neighbor's wife and I love to take the Lord's name in vain -- but you know what I don't do? I don't risk another person's life because I'm late for fucking church.