An open letter to the guy who yelled "It's a Camaro!" You know who you are.
When I was walking across the street today, your blaring coked up house music and high beams in the early evening light accosted me. At first I was stunned by the presence of your Ed Hardy wearing gall in a small mid-western town. I was further stunned when you gunned your engine and started charging in my direction in a back alley where children and dogs are often present.
Maybe you were talking on your cell phone, or texting your mee ma. Maybe today is kill the wasp day (I'm not often CCed in memos to that effect.) Maybe you thought I needed a sudden burst of adrenaline to kill the migraine that was forming from a long day's work. Maybe you were pumped because you had just mailed a love letter to the producer of CougarTown in the hopes of a walk on role. Maybe, just maybe, your wife is about to give birth and you thought that killing a pedestrian as a ritual sacrifice to your white convertible Camaro god was the only way to secure mother and child's survival (This seems the most unlikely as most women with functional reproductive organs tend to avoid men who smell like French courtesans and spray tan their navals.)
In any case, when I yelled "Overkill!" and you yelled "It's a Camaro!" you made me remember everything I dislike about my own culture. I hope you get home safely, but I wouldn't mind you getting a series of expensive tickets to shock you into some propriety of motor vehicle driving.
Sincerely yours,
Cameroun Arthur Crago
XOXO
