The Road-raged Largesse Denounces Traffic

Fucking traffic.  Seriously, what the fuck?  What.  The.  Fuck.  Fucking traffic will literally be the thing that kills me.  No, no, not an actual car accident, but rather the level of rage that leads me to either have a heart attack behind the wheel, or kill myself because of the amount of time I spend sitting in traffic for reasons that are completely, utterly, and absolutely insane.  I repeat: insane.  I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this one and I simply can not wrap my head around it.  Oh, what’s that sir, you think I bring a lot of traffic-induced stress upon myself by living in a big city and owning a car?  Uh-huh, well I hope you die.  In Topeka, KN.  Alone.

The Turbo-Charged Largesse Recommends The Stig

Some say that he appears on high value stamps in Sweden, and that he can catch fish with his tongue.  Some say his teeth glow in the dark, and that if you tune your radio to 88.4 FM you can actually hear his thoughts.  Some say, that he is one of the protons in the Large Hadron Collider, AND that he creates miniature black holes every time he sneezes. Some say that his heart ticks like a watch, and that he’s confused by stairs… all we know is, he’s called The Stig.  And he’s a mystery, plain and simple.