Last weekend I was stopped behind several other cars at a traffic light, when the guy behind me in a bright-yellow low-end muscle car lays on his horn. I didn’t think anything of it, except that he ought to learn to relax. The light changes, and we all start to move. Yellow-car-guy races to pull up next to me, and flips me the bird. Huh. I wonder what has his panties in a bunch?
Then he pulls in front of me, and again flips me off, this time through his open sunroof. Still no idea what his malfunction is. But it’s a nice sunny day, and the car he’s driving suggests that he’s compensating for some shortcoming, so I shrug it off.
A mile or so later, I pull into a turning lane and pass yellow-car-guy. As I go by he sticks his shaved head out of his car window and flips me off yet again. And this time he yells "Fucking Communist!"
Aha. Now I get it. I have an Obama 2012 bumper sticker on my car. Like it or dislike it, I think you’ll agree it’s a fairly trivial expression of opinion, all things considered. But clearly, that’s what has muscle-boy so worked up.
I’m not sure what the inbred skinhead racist moron thought he was accomplishing (hey, if he can conclude that I’m a fucking communist on the basis of a bumper sticker, then surely I can reasonably conclude he’s an inbred skinhead racist moron on the basis of his reaction to it). But I do know what he actually accomplished – he put a grin on my face that lasted for the better part of an hour. If by merely having a simple bumper sticker I can make such a cretin so angry that he has to scream obscenities at a complete stranger on the road, well, that makes me very happy.