I was at the mall earlier today. Hot day, lots of sun. Parking lot was pretty crowded, which wasn’t helped by the prize specimin who had parked their SUV across three empty spaces. 'Cause God forbid this matte-white pustule-mobile should get a scratch. Never mind that there hasn’t been an American car produced in the last forty years that wouldn’t look better after being worked over with a sledgehammer, or at least not look appreciably worse. The point here is that it was an SUV. Y’know, a sports utility vehicle? Or even, a sports utility vehicle? Something about a pristine SUV just screams “pretentious wanker.” A battered, mudstained SUV at least shows that the driver has an actual need for one of these gargantuan gas-hogs.
Okay, at this point, the reader is doubtlessly waiting for me to start refering to myself in the third person and spastically shouting “SCORE!” But this isn’t an SUV rant, or even a parking rant. It’s also not a rant about the icthys that this doorknob had painted on his rear bumper with what looked like red tempera. Sure, I’m always a bit suspicious of people whose entire belief system can be summarized with a bumper sticker, but whatever. Although you’d think that anyone proud enough of their Christianity to sport a Jesus Fish would be proud enough to cough up the ten or fifteen bucks it costs to get a decent, metal, bolt-on type. And then there’s the seeming incompatibility of taking up three spaces so your precious vehicle doesn’t get scratched despite the fact that you’ve already personally defaced said vehicle with your arts’n’crafts religious statement. But this isn’t a rant about cheapskates with icthys, either.
And, really, this isn’t a rant about people who keep their dogs locked in their cars in parking lots on hot sunny days. Yes, that’s cruel and dangerous, no doubt about it. Although the dog in question apparently hadn’t gotten heatstroke yet, if the volume of its baying was anything to go on. Honestly, the poor critter was howling like it was chasing an escaped slave through a Georgia swamp.
But this rant isn’t about people who do any one of the above things. It’s about people who do all three, like the abominable fuckpuppet I saw parked at the mall today. And, of course, this was the one day I left my rocket launcher at home. Figures.
Oh, and for the animal lovers out there worried about the dog, rest assured that mall security was swiftly informed, and a mall cop armed with a slim jim was en route when I left. How a crunchy beef-flavored snack was going to help in this situation is beyond me, but I assume the security guards knew what they were doing.
Actually, in hindsight, I regret telling the security guy about it. A brick through the windshield would have been quicker, more satisfying, and (for a change) morally defensible. Oh, well. Maybe next time.
