May A Severe Bout of Stomach Cramps Come Upon You In Traffic

David did it. I don't want to do everything David did, but I do want to do this. He prayed against his enemies. He cursed them. Not only that, he cursed them with some pretty horrific things. I'm not that mean, but I am mean.

My curses run along the line of the title of this post: May a severe bout of stomach cramps come upon you in traffic. Of course I get more creative, but not all are printable, even on my own blog.

I'm trying to reserve it for specific occasions, but what else are we to do with inconsiderate people who make life miserable for the rest of us? I feel a bit guilty about it ... how does one embrace the Golden Rule and embrace flinging a curse upon some poor soul? I am conflicted, I admit. However, some deeds deserve a rip-roaring case of flatulence in a crowd of dignitaries.

Number One on my list are people who carelessly spit their gum out on the parking lots and sidewalks. My feet always find these wads of gum. I don't even like to chew gum. Swallow the gum, for goodness sake. Find a gargbage bin. I hate it when I step on gum next to a garbage can - that brings a double curse that usually involves a long bout with hemorrhoids.

There are numerous traffic-related curses. The people who pass me up and then slow down on the highway. The people who pull out in front of me and then poke along. And the worst ... the people who are going slow until I decide to pass - at which time they speed up. These usually involve curses of teeth rotting, long bristly ear hair, severe tonail fungus, or a tongue piercing gone bad.

People who bump into you and push you around in Wal-Mart as if you are standing between them and the goose that laid the golden egg get to suffer ankles that grow together in the night, and maybe a case of super-itchy rash right in the spot on their back that they can't reach.

Attention pet owners: letting your dog poop in my yard is not acceptable. Come on! Why should I have to watch where I step in my own little yard? I don't have a dog. I love dogs, but I do not want my yard filled up with poop. So when I walk into my house and get a whiff of you-know-what, it gets dangerous. You brought the flea-infestation from hell upon yourself!

I know these sound severe, but they are earned. I hope I can be forgiven for such thoughts ... and I hope that people of the world can straighten up and fly right. This is America, by George, and you have the right to be courteous, civil, and speak English or ... well ... you will be mystified at the grapefruit sized wart growing at the tip of your nose.