I’m in the mood to pick a fight so it’s rants and ravings time, or, as Adam Carolla puts it on his morning radio show, it’s time for THIS WEEK IN RAGE!

Number Three

I saw this on indystar.com today. Here’s the gist of it: people want to reference their religion on their license plates, and the BMV is trying to save themselves an eventual lawsuit a la “One nation, under God” a few years ago in California. Completely understandable, and under this new policy, people who already had license plates which referenced their deity are allowed to keep their plates so long as they get their renewals in on time. Some lady didn’t get her renewal in, and now she’s suing on the assertion that over 2 million people in Indiana have the “In God We Trust” license plate which is available through the DMV and ergo she should be allowed to have her license plate which reads “BE GODS.”

The only thing in common between these two plates is the word “God.” Do you know why we’re allowed to have plates which read “In God We Trust”? Because it’s the national motto of the United States of America as approved by Congress in 1956—it’s not just some shit somebody came up with on the fly. It dates back to Francis Scott Key and the origins of The Star-Spangled Banner. The Star-Spangled motherfucking Banner! So she thinks just because she thought of “BE GODS” on the fly that the motto of the greatest country on the face of the earth isn’t good enough for her?  Fuck that and fuck her. What really bothers me about this is just how fucking pretentious and lazy she is for doing this. I mean, really, does she truly think that a license plate with two words on it is going to change someone’s life? Oh my God! I saw “BE GODS” on the back of someone’s car. It’s so clear to me now. God is like the muffler—there’s so much bad in the world, but if I filter it all through Him, everything seems to be much better, cleaner and clearer!  If you want to make an impact in a stranger’s life, don’t depend on a $48 dollar vanity plate to do the work. Get your ass out of your car, find someone—anyone!—and ask if they’ve heard the Good News. You’re not doing your god’s will by driving your car around all day. Suck it up, get out and do what you’re supposed to do.

Number Two

You know what really grinds my gears? People who don’t find this funny. Seriously, try saying “DELETE COOKIES!? OM NOM NOM NOM!” in your head in the voice of Cookie Monster and not laugh. It’s impossible not to laugh if you’re a halfway respectable human being. Hell, I’m in most respects a terrible person, but I have that blown up and taped to my wall in my office, and I giggle every damn time I see it.

Number One

People getting married. As of Saturday, November 15, my best friend since HS, Cameron Klein, is getting married. What. The. Fuck. Not only that, but he’s dumb enough to have made me his best man. Man do I feel old. While he’s marrying the love of his life, I’m still getting drunk and being incredibly irresponsible. Swiss and I came to the conclusion that it’s just never going to happen—which, honestly, I’ve been told since I was about 15. More importantly, he told me I’m not allowed to get with any of the bridesmaids! What the fuck!? What the hell is the point of being the best man if you’re not allowed to have your selection of the women on the other side of the aisle? I want to be the best man because he’s my best friend and saved my life? Fuck that!

I took a girl on a date on Tuesday, and she failed every possible test/thing that I look for. I mean, they’re not hard things. All I ask is that you have something interesting or at least original to say, that you be nice to the wait-staff at the restaurant, and then, well, there’s the car door test. If you don’t know what that is, ask me sometime. But she not only failed it, she failed it three times.

If you ever move to some place where you know very few people, allow me to give you one piece of advice: don’t waste your money on match dot fucking com. I’ve spent five months on there, and you know what I’ve gotten? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Admittedly, husky guys who drink too much and write blog-columns entitled “THIS WEEK IN RAGE!” aren’t ideal candidates, but I should have been able to find some moderately attractive woman on there who’s just as fucked up as I am.

Sadly, this is not the case. It seems to me the only women I connect with are the ones who live in excess of 2200 miles away, be it Terre Haute or Philadelphia.

So in conclusion, here’s to you, here’s to me, and if you don’t like it, fuck you, here’s to me.

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