An Open Letter to the Douchebag Driving In Front of Me on Hwy. 77

Dear Mr. Asshole,
I appreciate that on a lovely, sunny morning it’s nice to drive slowly across town with the top of your convertible down. However, you might want to consider that lowering the roof of your car makes your creepy predilection for gawking at every woman you pass that much more obvious. I imagine there are those who would argue that your “no ass is bad ass” policy, the way you check out all the laydeez, from barely pubescent to barely ambulatory, at least makes you more broadminded (HA!) than your average Peeping Tom. However, those people are stupid and wrong. While I expect nothing will make you change your ways, I nonetheless feel obliged to point out to you that a) most women are neither blind nor stupid, and b) contrary to popular (male) belief, when we notice a strange man checking us out, our reaction is less “ooh, maybe that hott guy will ask me out” than it is “Christ, another dickhead to ignore.” Also, I have to say that when it comes to “chick magnets,” a sky blue Chrysler LeBaron convertible ranks somewhere below my nephew’s old Radio Flyer trike. Just a few things to consider the next time you take a spin.

The Snarky Squab

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