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PB

Man, I feel you.

Hell really is other people, and in no place else can you feel the burn more acutely than on the roads of Oregon, where RAIN, of all things, can cause massive traffic jams.

My impotent commuter rage fantasy: leaning out of my driver's side window, I wield a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher. SUVs in front of me are blasted into the air and across the median like gigantic, tumbling fireballs of metal and glass. Subarus, Volvos, hybrids and H2s all slide smoking/flaming/inert onto the shoulder of US Hwy26 as I weave a path through them towards home.. my commute time today is excellent: 16 miles in 16 minutes! Huzzaaah!....

[..fade to white, the present, to a car interior where I am stuck in an endless traffic jam..]

Is it any wonder at all that the Grand Theft Auto series sells as well among adults as it does teens? Forget the accusations of pixel-violence being the germ for real crimes; those gentlemen are providing public catharsis on an international fucking level. I can't recommend it highly enough.

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