Annoying Types of Drivers

People Who Are Scared To Death Of Concrete Barriers

Sometimes, when freeway planners don't have a lot of faith in the driving skills of ordinary citizens (which is completely reasonable), they put up concrete barriers to keep drunk and stupid people from driving into oncoming traffic or off a cliff.

And that's fine; Knowing your limitations is a good thing, as anyone who has watches American Idol can tell you. But the sensible thing to do would be to get out of the scary lane, instead of constantly hitting your brakes in terror and veering so far to the right that your car has half changed lanes anyway.

Why do these people do this? Apparently it's really important for them to stay in the "fast lane" despite their pants-shitting fear of the barrier causing them to slow down so much they would probably be going faster in the next lane to the right anyway. Or maybe they're just too scared to think of what to do.

Listen, barrier-phobic people, it's okay to move over. The concrete barrier can't smell fear. It's not going to chase you.

People Who Think Bicycles Are Massive Vehicles

The literal mirror image of those people are people who are terrified of bicyclists. Whenever they come across a single bicyclist riding on the right side of the road, they give the bike the berth that most people would normally give a bus, or in some cases, a Galaxy-class starship Enterprise.

And let me just say that bicyclists do really appreciate the fact that you care about not running them over. And that's very sweet. But bikes are as wide as... people. When there's a bike lane, in particular, the bike lane is plenty big enough to contain the bike or three, and the car lane is just fine to fit your car, so all you have to do is stay in that car lane, as opposed to veering into oncoming traffic or slowing down and driving behind the bike the whole way home.

I know sometimes there's no bike lane and the road is narrow, and sometimes there's inconsiderate bicyclists that don't stay to the right, but throwing out those cases, there's plenty of times the bike is safely contained in a big fat shoulder or bike lane, and all this driver can see is apparently some kind of whale rolling sideways down the side of the road.

People Who Pass You For No Actual Advantage

There's a lot of people out there who will be very rude or dangerous about passing you, we all know about that, but in most cases they're gaining something, at least according to their priorities. They're passing you to get into an open lane where they can go ahead and keep driving 120 mph, so that they can die faster.

But what if there's clearly already a red light 200 yards in front of you? Why would someone pass you just to get to the red light faster? Do they enjoy waiting at red lights? Apparently so, because this happens way more than it should.

Or if there's a slow car, of course people want to pass. But say you're going slowly only because the car in front of you is going slowly. You would pass that sleepy old man but there's no room to pass in the other lane. Then Mr. Speed Demon comes up behind you and starts tailgating you like it's your fault you're going so slow.

Apparently convinced it would be smooth sailing if he could just get around you, he zips around you and settles in neatly right behind the actual slow car. What the fuck, buddy? What did that gain you except spending some extra gas and giving someone who now hates you a good chance to memorize your license plate?

That's right, pal. You better watch it because if I see you again on the road, I am going to quietly not think very highly of you.

People Who Let EVERYBODY In

A lot of times we bemoan the lack of civility on our roads, but sometimes an overdose of civility can be an equally annoying pain in the ass. When you merge onto a freeway or something, you are supposed to merge like a zipper, one car from either side, alternating.

Sometimes one soft-hearted driver will let one car in, and then, oh no! There's another car there. Well how did you get there, little fella? You can come in too! Oh, wait, there's another car behind him! Imagine that! Well, you get yourself in there too. After a while, you can actually see it dawn on them after a while that the stream of cars merging in is actually infinite, and after a couple moments pussyfooting forward hesitantly as they fit these new observations into their worldview, they will drift shamefully forward and free up traffic.

A similar problem can be seen at stop signs, where some people completely ignore the actual, universal laws about who gets to go first and treat it like some kind of exercise in "after you" chivalry. Instead of making things faster, this actually confuses the other person and often sends them into a stop sign standoff, as shown below:

This repeats until both cars run into each other.

People Who Camp Parking Spots

These people have apparently reserved a parking space with a credit card somehow, because they stubbornly camp out spaces where the occupants obviously aren't going to be leaving in the next couple of minutes, as they pack their month's worth of Costco groceries away or disassemble their extremely complex baby-carrying apparatus and pack it in the car.

The worst thing is if they pre-position themselves in the middle of the aisle, at an angle, to most easily turn into the parking space, oblivious to the fact this blocks traffic in both directions. "Fuck this shit," you will probably think, "I'm backing out." But then when you look behind you, a line of other drivers drawn into this horrible nightmare has appeared, completely blocking you in.

And then if you turn to the inconsiderate nexus of this whole clusterfuck, sitting there with their blinker on, and express some kind of impatience, they'll just turn to you with a, "I know! What can I do?" kind of look and shrug at the people who aren't leaving, like this is their responsibility. Yeah, sure, it's not the fault of the dumbfuck sitting in the middle of the aisle, turned 45 degrees with his blinker on, because that space is obviously his destiny. Looking for another space could completely alter the course of history and destroy life as we know it.

Or maybe he would just have to walk 15 more seconds to get to the store entrance. Either way the consequences are just unthinkable.

People Who hang Out In Your Blind Spot

If you are a responsible driver, you know there are "blind spots" around your car that you can't see using your mirrors, and that it's bad for another vehicle to be in them, at least if you consider it bad to be completely unaware of a one ton machine going 70 mph right next to your car.

Sometimes someone drifts into your blind spot, which is not a problem. You just speed up or slow down to get them out of it. But some drivers, for some inexplicable reason, insist on staying in your blind spot. You speed up, they speed up. You slow down, they slow down. What the hell is going on here?

Speeding up might be explained by typical chest-thumping driver competitiveness, but slowing down? That's just weird. One possible explanation is that they're just not paying attention and unconsciously tend to match speed with the nearest car. For those who prefer more paranoid explanations, it could be one of them crooks who stages accidents for the insurance money.

How to tell which is which? I suggest pointing a gun at the other driver. If they react to it, they were clearly paying attention to you and therefore must be an insurance crook.

Slow Drivers In Denial

Most slow drivers are pretty oblivious, but a few of them are in active, aggressive denial. If you should pass them, as you normally would to a slow driver, they suddenly wake up, become incensed, and speed up, as if to say, "Hey! I'm not a slow driver! Who says I am!" They may have just drifted off for a bit, they seem to be saying, but how dare you judge them by that speed they were going. That's not their real speed. They're really a fast driver, you just caught them at a bad moment.

Of course, 30 seconds later, after you reluctantly settle back in behind them, they are back to crawling along like a tortoise. And do you dare pass them again? They are clearly fucking sensitive about this. You don't want to start a road rage thing here. Hell, they might be one of those crazy people that keeps a gun in their car.

People Who Time It Just Right So You Miss the Green Light

 

Just fuck you.

-HKR

Anam cara

Right now. You're sitting down. And perhaps a few of you are standing up. You have your eyes looking at a piece of glass that emits light and images for your to process and understand.

a

b

c

You just read three letters. And you didn't even really read them; you just saw them and recognized them and continued down to the next mass of words. And that's just you.

Somewhere, outside of your window, on the other side of your door, under the same sky you look up into, someone, right now, this very second you read this bolded word, two people are having the best and wildest sex of their life. Someone is tied up to two bed posts and sweating and breathing and moaning in time with someone whose muscles are tightening and clenching every second. Right now. This second. Promise.

Somewhere in the world right now, someone right now is having the best day of their life. A woman just obtained a large sum of money and got a promotion and their kids won an award while their husband bought them a new car.

Right now, a boy is coming home from falling in love with a girl and is smiling just thinking about her. He can't forget her scent. He will not do his homework tonight, and for the first time in his life he's worrying about what he's going go to wear tomorrow. That could be happening on the other side of your block right now.

Right now someone is starting a diet. And someone else is giving theirs up.

This exact moment that you're sitting safe in your chair at home with your music on, somewhere in the world there's a girl getting raped by a man she doesn't know. And she will probably be killed in about ten minutes. Her body will be stashed away by some demented means and she won't be found for some time. This could be happening in India. This could be happening in Africa. This could be happening across your street. My street.

Somewhere at this very moment that I made you aware of your blinking, two kids are fighting and bleeding. Somewhere else a couple is laying in a park on a blanket smiling, secretly thinking about marriage but not telling the other. A band is breaking up and yelling at the lead singer. Elsewhere, a man is at a table with a pen and paper in hand, writing three verses, a chorus and a bridge to a song that you will hear on the radio and be singing in a few months.

A baby was just born. A mother is smiling through tears from nine months pain and unfathomable agony and wouldn't trade any of it for the world. A baby has just died. A teenage girl will be walking out of a clinic with her head down in about half an hour and will never forget this moment - the same moment that you read my blog- for the rest of her life.

It's a rookie's first time flying a plane. Someone just got fired. Another is retiring. Millions of people are praying this instant. A homeless man needs money. A woman needs her hair to come out right. A girl wants a pair of shoes to be one sale. A man would like nothing more than to have the woman he met last night call. And he's waiting by his phone right now.


By the time you've finished reading this entry...

...the s/m couple just had the best orgasm they've ever had. And one of them is smoking a cigarette.

...the married couple is getting ready to go out somewhere expensive. But the husband has already reserved a table as a surprise.

...the boy is still smiling.

...that girl is dead right now. The man is standing up, suddenly frightened at himself and what he's done. In a few minutes, pure panic will set in. In a few weeks, he will be behind bars and sentenced to life in prison.

...the baby is a boy. The girl aborted a girl.

And you sat here and read words. What will go on unnoticed around you after you're done reading this?

Someone could be writing writing about you right now.

Unite.

"I'm sorry. But I don't want to be an emperor; that's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible, Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another, human beings are like that.

"We all want to live by each other’s happiness, not by each other’s misery. We don’t want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone and the earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful.

"But we have lost the way. Greed has poisoned men's souls – has barricaded the world with hate; has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed.

"We have developed speed but we have shut ourselves in; machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little: 

"More than machinery we need humanity; More than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost.

"The airplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me I say “Do not despair”.

"The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress: the hate of men will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people, will return to the people and so long as men die, liberty will never perish.

"Soldiers – don’t give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you and enslave you – who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel, who drill you, diet you, treat you as cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don’t give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines. You are not cattle! You are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don’t hate – only the unloved hate. Only the unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers – don’t fight for slavery, fight for liberty!

"In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written ”....the kingdom of God is within man” – not one man, nor a group of men – but in all men – in you, the people.

"You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy let’s use that power – let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give you the future and old age and security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie. They do not fulfill their promise, they never will. Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfill that promise. Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men’s happiness.

"Soldiers – in the name of democracy, let us all unite!”

Superven

Vinny Dimentos: The Freshmaker

[Dear Perfetti Van Melle corporation, maker of Mentos: Please don't sue me for slander or defamation of the Mentos name. It's just a pun. Thanks for understanding.]

So, anyone remember this? Right, so a quick follow up.

Why Men Take Break-Ups an Divorce Harder Than Women

That title just looks weird all capitalized.

Anyway.

How not to get your ass kicked by the police.

"Apartment drinking water tainted by corpse"

Pussies.

"More than 500 residents in an apartment building in Yungho City, suburban Taipei, were reportedly drinking water from a communal roof-top tank containing a corpse for three days until yesterday.

"The residents had been puzzling over their water having a strange smell. When they checked the tank they found the body of a 27-year-old drug addict identified only as "Kuo" who lived in the building.

Yesterday, television reports said doctors were checking residents and also people involved with a restaurant on the ground floor which had used the polluted water to wash rice, meat and vegetables.

After the body was found yesterday, health workers disinfected the water tank, but residents have shied from drinking the running water, hauling water in buckets from a nearby building instead." (Source)

My question is: Would Mufasa still consider this the Circle of Life? 'Cause this still falls under that whole, "...and the antelope eat the grass, and so..." monologue he gave Simba. And if this doesn't fall under that rule, then he's lying. A lyin' Lion. HA! Get it? Because they sound the same.

Anyway. Drinking water in Taipei. Crossing that off my list.

Suicide and sex and other things that mix.

For the most part, I fail to see the issue with suicide.

Life sucks? End it. After all, when you don't like what's on TV, you turn it off. And when you don't like what's on the radio? Punch the knob. Did you fuck up on a drawing? Throw it away.

Put those torches and pitchforks down. I'm not saying I wouldn't care. If someone I know commits suicide, I'll admit if I was close to them of course I'd become completely unhinged and then furious at them for doing it. But while I'm on this honesty kick, I also have to admit that while anger would immediately surface via finding out my friend is dead, it would also fade within - I'd say - a week. Very serious. Be honest. Could you really be horrifically angry for more than a week straight? The pain would still be there, sure. That's not a question. Even if it was your husband or wife that committed suicide, you would be bed-ridden and barely eating for a month at most. And then one day you'd get out of bed. And walk around. A couple weeks later you would walk outside. And eventually go back on Facebook and see that - lo and behold - everyone else has moved on. And by the end of that year you'd be working again, laughing at jokes again, and maybe even dating. A decade later you'd fall in love, maybe have a kid, and so on. Twenty years later, maybe a song would pop up or someone would say his or her name and you'd feel that twinge - happens to me all the time - but you'd hardly be paralyzed in misery the way you were the week after. In fact, you wouldn't even think of them that often. There might even be days or entire weeks when that person didn't even cross your mind. This is not a bad thing; it's the natural effect of time passing. Bottom line is: everyone is eventually fine.

Look, suicide isn't for everyone. I know the arguments: "What about [insert family/friend here]? How would they feel if you left them behind?" Well first off, the term "leaving behind" implies dying is going forward, so that's fine. Then they should be happy. And second, the people who lived on? How could I care? I'm dead. If I'm in Heaven, I'm happy. And if I go to Hell, then chances are I've bigger things to worry about than what kind of brownies aunt Linda made for the reception. The third alternative? Nothing. Absolutely nothing could happen after you die. No Heaven, no Hell, nothing. Curtains drop, fade to black. That's it. And in that case, I won't even see any of you later anyway. I'm dead. I will have ceased to be, as Monty Python put it. Alone. Except for the worms, of course.

Which is why I've never subscribed to the silly philosophy of, "God only gives you what you can handle." Clearly that's not true, or the mere notion of suicide wouldn't even exist. If people were only "given" what they could handle, then no one would ever feel so helpless and out of control that they would rather just give up and punch the Off button instead of pressing on. To make things worse, people defend it by saying, "Well, suicide is man's choice, not God's." Well first of all, no one said anything about it being God's choice. And second, God made the person and the person's soul and brain and had him born in that particular time in that particular part of the world. God created that person in that environment of family and friends and susceptible to their ideas and behaviors. If everything is God's plan, then that means he knew before he even created this person that what would happen in their life was more than they could emotionally handle. Getting fired, amputated, bankrupt and having the wife and kids die in a car accident all in one day? That stuff happens all the time. Some people have the mental fortitude to withstand that kind of onslaught from life. Some don't. The people who commit suicide are the people who didn't. And all they ever did was get set in this rat maze called "God's Plan."

Which is why I tend to leave "God" out of these conversations. When people insist on using him on these issues, he tends to come out of it looking like a huge asshole; And I prefer to think of whoever created us - God or otherwise - as someone with a bit more wisdom, patience, and forethought under its belt.

To put it simply: I have more faith in our creator than that. If there is one.

Is suicide wise? Most of the time, of course not. Look, I'm not condoning the act. Life can be the most gorgeous thing to ever happen to you. Like my father used to say: "Try to wish you were never born when you're making love to a beautiful woman," - which is probably why I do enjoy women so much; They keep me in track. Sex gives me a meaning for life. And I don't mean that in some shallow, nymphomaniac angle. I mean that in the quintessential light of romance. Truth is, we will never be able to invent anything life like sex, animalistic fucking with abandon, or especially, passionately making love. Nothing.

There's nothing so absolutely chaotic and beautiful that you can do as sex. It's an absolute mess. Your body is out of control, hitting that hidden 7th gear that you suppress 99% of your life. Your senses flare to unimaginable heights, you start sweating like animals, you hyperventilate, every nerve ending buzzes with every twist, turn, pumps, arch and grip. You don't act anything like your normal self. One human is inside another. And you don't stop. You just go faster, and you get addicted to the moment and you simply want more. You encourage with sounds, yelling, moaning, clawing with your nails, biting, wrapping your legs around them, and the bed, well... you kick the shit out of that bed. You become an animal. It's the human soul at its most primal. You have one goal and, for the one and only time in your life, you have a clear goal. An easy target. A natural method. And you have the time of your life doing it. Everything is simple. And when you get to the summit, that delicious peak of tightness, you go blank. There's a fraction of a second where you lose consciousness and any and all thoughts disappear. They shatter and scatter and cease to matter. Religions use to believe the climax was the closest man could get to God without actually dying. It's the purest moment of life.

Suicide is as romantic as it can be cowardly; just for a different reason. Sex can save your life if you see it that way. It's probably dangerously unhealthy to let another soul be a safety net for yours. But to each their own. We're all wired differently. If someone is in such anguish that that make the choice to press the off switch, I can't really judge them - I didn't live their life. And while I might like to regurgitate fortune-cookie lines like, "You have so much to live for!" or, "Life will get better!" I don't know that for sure. People die old, miserable and alone all the time. Go to a dive bar and you'll see half a dozen bitter 60-year old men in flannel shirts bitching about life and heartbreak. Who's to say my friend wouldn't end up like that? I can't. Because in truth, I only want my friend to keep living so I don't feel sad. Because him dying would hurt me. I'm not considering the fact that he or she just might be saving themselves from a longer, worse life with an agonizing ending. All I know for sure, is that if they die, they won't be sad anymore. That's a harsh truth.

Sometimes, suicide really only affects one person. And no one else.

In the end, it always does.

Even stars die.

How I'll meet your mother.

I saw old people today.

Not that they're some strange anomaly or something. But it's rare (here at least) to find two elderly people together, sitting on a bench, looking at the ocean on a 78 degree southern California day, and not stuck in a retirement home eating pudding underneath a TV hanging from the corner of a ceiling.

To watch a couple who have been together for so long just sit silently is the real life equivalent of magic - happening very slowly, blossoming and revealing itself only to those patient and deep enough to watch and listen.

You could pass them by. But watching them causes you to realize things about yourself. You become more aware of your life and what it's not only missing but what it could be...

An old man sitting next to his wife of 50 years is amazing. He's denied leaving her, pushed through hard times of money, pride, guilt, loss, and the pressures of divorce and infidelity. And he has stayed by her side for half a century. And the woman has tolerated his mindless fumbles, his bad habits, smelly laundry, her own physical transformations of children and growing up, and the pressures of divorce and infidelity as well.
They are the heroes of our time. And here they sat; quiet, unassuming, letting the world scream, fight, shoot, blast, and complicate itself on by. That's why when one of them dies, along with greiving, there is a new peace. Peace in knowing their soulmate is moving on to a better existence - somewhere they'll meet soon. Peace in knowing they've lived a full life, and a life with the one they love most in the world. And that is the holy grail we all seek every single day in our lives.

We work to make money. To be able to support ourselves. To move out. To find someone. We get dressed, wear makeup and cologne to attract a partner. We write to get noticed. Sing to be heard. We do to be seen. We feel to be felt. We live to find the best possible way to die. And this rare and sacred instance of two old people I never knew was not something to be glanced at, walked on or passed by. It was to be cherished from the concrete wall fifty feet away, left of the #13 lifeguard tower with my sunglasses on.

These are the moments you observe, watch carefully and absorb. Let the incredible luck of finding a glimpse of true love in its afterglow - and yet its quiet peak - soak in. And one day, hope you'll be there too.

-HKR

and i want life in every word to the extent that its absurd

its a whole new ball game when you try to figure out your worth with other people. a lot of times i lay on my floor - sometimes next to my heater, sometimes next to my piano, aimlessly tapping the 4 highest keys in the dark - and i wonder where i stand with friends, family and the like. actually, that more or less a lie. i dont wonder. its more like thinking about where i know i stand with them. i guess we all want to matter very much to those we love and care for. but the world isnt always fair in that regard.

there are half a dozen souls on this earth whom i love more than my heart is even capable of; i swear, if my heart had a love cup, it would pour itself empty for these people, and when its gone, somehow there would be more in the reserves to pour out for them. but i think my biggest problem is that ive never known exactly how to show the people i care about exactly just how indispensable and essential they are to me. ive lost a few because of my failure to do so. i constantly hold people in pristine condition in my heart ... but i never figure out how to get the same treatment from anyone else. i always mean less to them than they do to me. could that be a good thing?

.com.bin.a.tions.

There are 93 keys on a standard computer keyboard. 26 of them are letters. 20 of them numbers. There are symbols, hotkeys, arrows, and buttons to save and buttons to delete mistakes. There are over 65,000 words in the English language, not including slang.

I stare at them all - at this black keyboard with white print - and I cant find one single combination of letters and words that could convey how much I love you.

There are 6 strings on a classic acoustic guitar. 21 frets. Unless my math is wrong, that's 126 different notes. Push or pull any one of the strings and tuning knobs in any direction and you begin multiplying that number exponentially by 126 again. The variations and options multiply again when you consider the different amounts of pressure you apply when holding down the string or strings when you play it.

Velveteen.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

Scars Are Souvenirs You Never Lose

I do my best to make things look easy.

I laugh a lot. I make jokes about everything, especially myself. I find solace in making people smile and breaking the ice by saying the most inappropriate comment at the worst moment possible. I don't yell or act stressed or angry. I let things fall off my shoulder and flick them aside. I walk slow, drive fast, and embrace silence and solitude as much as I adore being in the spotlight of a group of good friends. I don't cause drama, but I'll share my opinion if asked. I don't argue with people who know more on a subject than I do. I ask questions and listen patiently. I soak in time alone on my roof watching the sunset the same way I would immerse myself in the moment of laying in bed in the morning, with a woman in my arms, sound asleep. I appreciate the big picture in life just as much as I crave dissecting the details and variables everyone else tends looks over.

But what I have a hard time doing... is sharing all of this.

And it's taken almost three decades of living, but I think I'm starting to pinpoint the reason.

You gotta punch your weight.

"What I really learned from the Charlize debacle is that you gotta punch your weight. Charlize was out of my class: too pretty, too smart, too witty, too much. What am I? Average. A middleweight. Not the smartest guy in the world, but certainly not the dumbest. I've read books like "The Unbearable Likeness of Being", "Angelea's Ashes", and "Love in the Time of Cholera", and I understood them, I think -- they're about girls, right? -- just kidding. But I didn't like them very much. My all-time Top five favorite books are Johnny Cash's autobiography, "Snow Crash" by Neil Stevenson, "Zan and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance", "The Trouser Press Guide to Rock", and, I don't know... probably something Kurt Vonnegut. I look through the New Yorker when my neighbor's done with it, and I'm not adverse to going down to the Fine Arts to watch "subtitle films", although on the whole I prefer American. Top five being Blade Runner, Cool Hand Luke, the first two Godfathers which we'll count as one, Taxi Driver, and The Shining. I'm okay looking, average height, not skinny, not fat. My genius, if I can call it that, it to combine a whole load of averageness into one compact frame.

"You might say there are millions like me, but there aren't, really: A lot of guys have impeccable taste in music but don't read, a lot of guys read but are really fat, a lot of guys are sympathetic to women but have stupid beards, a lot of guys have Woody Allen sense of humor but look like Woody Allen. Some drink too much, some drive like assholes, some get into fights, of show off money, or do drugs. I don't do any of these things, really. If I do okay with women it's not because of the virtues I have, but because of the ugly flaws I don't have.

"So. Charlize and I didn't match. After her I was determined to never get out of my league again."

-High Fidelity, 2000