-That Christmas Conspiracy-

“Look out!” I blurted, and Dad jammed the breaks. For the second time in minutes, another driver had come within a hairsbreadth of blowing our doors off from the inside.

Grumble, grumble, let-me-tell-you-why-they-cut-us-off..

It is December 23, after all, and road rage has spiked higher than Ty Cobb. This isn’t so bad when I’m driving alone, but I’m riding shotgun in my father’s car on the way to the nearest mall complex to assist him shopping for my mother – yes, he waited this long, and no, he has no idea what he should get her, and yes, he expects me to select something, and no, I have no idea either since I solved my own present problem with a lucky bit of re-gifting – riding with him is an exercise in active listening.

Blame National Review, or Fox, or anything but himself for becoming so paranoid about the world at large. All children may fear becoming their parents, and I’m no exception; I like my curmudgeon attitude right now, because when someone cuts me off or does me wrong, I still blame the individual, the he/she/it in the other vehicle. Not a larger leftist conspiracy that makes the individual ill-tempered, impatient or evil.