Pointless rant of the day:

And hopefully a short one. I have other things to do... and a headache. Ok then. Let's get this over with.

I hate trucks.

Pickup trucks, for those who might, without that clarification, think that I have an unreasonable loathing of all things lorry.

That last was for my vast UK readership, of course.

I live in Truck Central, and I hate seeing so many trucks around. They're loud, they use far too much gas, they take up far too much space in parking lots, and they're so completely unnecessary most of the time.

I mean, sure. If you are a farmer or a building contractor or a tradesman of some sort then you probably do need a truck. But if you're Joe Whosit who's terribly fond of chrome bumpers and likes to feel bigger than everyone else at the expense of both the environment and common sense, then you're just a moron with a toy.

And if you're Joe Whosit who thinks it's a great idea to drive your three quarter ton to a shopping centre three days before Christmas and park it diagonally in two stalls at once so that no one can come near your precious baby, then you are a COMPLETE EFFING MORON AND I DESPISE YOU.

And your truck.

And don't even ask me what I was doing at a shopping centre three days before Christmas. Not unless you want to wind up pinned to the wall with a sprig of holly through your gut.




It would explain the headache though, wouldn't it?

Ah well. I promise I'll be in a better mood tomorrow. I have to be. One of the stops at the aforementioned shopping centre (aka Parking Lot O' Morons) was Bernard Callebaut, and it's just not allowed to be in a bad mood when there's Callebaut in the house.

I'd be so disillusioned if I found out he drives a truck.