His reasoning is lacking. In, you know…reason.
Dude, I’m going sixty in a forty-five mph construction zone, and that’s fast enough. I’m passing the people in the right lane.
If you’re really gonna follow me that closely and use your brights for some undecipherable flashy light code, you need to know that shit is not gonna work, for reasons that are threefold:
- I do not know flashy light code.
- You are obviously irresponsible and reckless and have no business driving since you dangerously refuse to leave space between our cars.
- You are a fucktard who fails at life.
I’ll drive slower to keep a safe pace. How’s that? Oh, you’re laying on the horn now? Fuck yeah, make some noise, I’m turning up the BeeGees and blamin’ it all on the nights on Broadway. Yeah, twenty-four miles per hour.
What, you can’t circumvent because of construction? You should have thought about that before you went all blinky-headlight perma-horn, shitbag. Giving me epilepsy. I can’t see properly. I should slow down again. Sucka.
What I learned, incredulously, is that acting out of sheer spite is far more satisfying than Tron.
Secondly, in a completely unplanned personal reaction and editing of the previous sentence, I've also learned that acting out of sheer spite is far more satisfying to say than mere spite.