Yes you.  I hate you.  I know all about you and those things you do in your car when you think no one is watching.  Well I am.  I cannot help but notice such a miserable piece of excrement such as you; a sweaty little monkey indulging in every desire its pea-sized brain comes upon.  A neuron fires and you pick your nose.  Another and you are rubbing your privates through your blue jeans.  Just what the hell is it about congested traffic that turns you on?  Filth.  Oh I know what you are thinking.  Mr. Bistro should mind his own business.  Well I would love to.  Some of my least miserable moments in what is left of my burdensome life are when I go driving with my man Harold (by which I mean Harold drives and I sit in the back.  I hate the state of South Carolina as well, but that is another entry for another day.  I do not need hands to drive!  There is nothing stopping me from vigorously gripping the wheel between my clenched jaws, but apparently this state has no respect for the elderly or for those citizens with enough tenacity to overcome any obstacle no matter how many body parts they may be missing.  The police here are always whining about people upholding the law.  They should call it South Carowhina.).

Whenever I have need to run an errand that requires me to leave my modest seven-acre house, my man Harold delicately places me in the back seat of my limousine and together we venture out into the wider membership-free part of the country.  There are few things I enjoy now as much as peering out of the windows of my automobile, and describing to Harold with a fervent voice, just how much I hate everything I see.  And that is when I espy you dear reader.  You miserable wretch with your embarrassingly simple wants and desires, driving so earnestly as if anyone other than you cares if you get where you are going (a salesman of pornography no doubt).  I hate you and your financed automobile.  I hate the screaming brat strapped into an ungodly plastic contraption in a backseat (if it is not screaming it is no doubt due to you having tranquilized your spawn with alcohol).  So stop it.  Get off the roadways.  Stop blocking my sight so that I may enjoy gazing upon the beautiful scenery on my trip.  Assuming this lousy state has any of that left.