Zone coverage, or thank God for football season

Wow, train travel is like sometimes like being a Detroit Lion. You see the Goal and you know your job. Get to the end zone. Between you and the end zone there are hundreds of defenders. Most of them are either in very high heels or very old. There are a few pussy men, and some screaming children.

First off, you cannot harm the children. It is just not right.

Second, you should give the old ladies a pass, just because it is the right thing to do. Until this 90 year old bitch hip-checks you into the stands and grabs your ball and runs for the goal post. At least that is what it seemed like today.

I am walking toward the down escalator at the train station with no crowds, it is easy walking. Suddenly, a swarm of fucking locust descend on me and I am jostled and pushed and shoved. I look and it is a tiny little woman with the heart of Satan. Then I am pushed from the other side and it is pussy boy. I shove him to the rear so I don't have to take out grandma.

Then grandma turns around and grins and puts a pox hex from hell on me.  Fie on you, old woman.

So, as a decent human being, as Paul Stowe recently requested me to be I will promise to the following:

I will run over the slutty chicks with bad shoes first.

I will still try to not hurt the children even if they continue to spit on me.

I will only shove the old ladies after they have given me a bruise.

The Shanghai foo-foo boys are fair game.

And the next time I say knee how and the white people ignore me instead of feeling down because I think they are too "important" to have to say hey to me, I will call them an ass-hat-----and tell them to snap out of it.