Yesterday, something so vile, disgusting and inhumane happened that I’m actually loath to talk about it.
While I spent my day from sunup to sundown (both of which I missed) educating the youth of America and helping to ensure a better future for our world, a vicious hate crime of epic proportions was perpetrated against me.
Some unholy minion of evil HIT MY PARKED CAR.
Even this, however, I could forgive, under the right circumstances. People call most collisions “accidents” for a reason, after all.
But whoever committed this immoral atrocity also violated the most rudimentary and fundamental law that separates humans from animals: he or she did not leave a note.
I immediately jumped to the most rational possible conclusion, which was that Verizon had hunted me down and lashed out against me in the most unforgivable manner possible as retribution for my (completely warranted) campaign against them.
Then I realized that was super unlikely because they can’t even get their acts together enough to keep my internet and cable functioning, let alone figure out where I work and which car is mine all in enough time to arrive there during normal business hours.
So unless Verizon is MUCH better at revenge than they are at providing reliable cable and internet service, (and factoring in the fact that I work at a high school) it was probably a teenage driver who hit my car.
Which doesn’t make it any better. Hitting someone’s car without leaving a note is one of the most reprehensible acts that a member of a civilized society can commit.
It’s a little known fact, but when Moses went up onto Mount Sinai, God actually presented him with ELEVEN commandments, not the ten that we’ve all been taught. But the Israelites had no idea what a car was and therefore discarded the holy eleventh commandment: Thou shalt not hittest another man’s car without leaving a note with thine name, phone number, and insurance information.
You want to know why we keep having tragedies and natural disasters? Start following the eleventh commandment and maybe the world will be a better place.
As a strict adherent to the sacred eleventh commandment, I am personally of the belief that there is a special circle in hell for people who hit other people’s cars without leaving a note.
No, they don’t belong in the VERY deepest circle of hell, which as we all know is reserved for Adolf Hitler, Saddam Hussein, Martha Stewart, Stephenie Meyer (the chick who wrote the Twilight books), and those people who put their children on leashes—that level, of course, is ruled by the master of all that is dark and cruel and evil. He goes by many names. Some call him Satan. Some call him Beelzebub. Some call him the Space Cowboy. Some call him the Gangster of Love. Some people call him Maurice. But most of the modern world just knows him as Dick Cheney.
The eleventh commandment violators wind up in the second deepest level of hell.
I mean the circle that is presided over by Dan Snyder. Because having him in charge of that particular eternal torture chamber is the ONLY way to ensure that it will suck enough to truly punish these monsters who are willing to disobey the laws of civilized society.
Now I don’t want you to think that I’m unreasonable. I DO understand that there are some circumstances under which it is not only acceptable, but actually advisable to hit someone’s car and NOT leave a note. In fact, there are three (and ONLY three) situations in which there is no need to leave a note.
Scenario 1: You are Jack Bauer. Granted, if you’re Jack Bauer, the car you’re driving was commandeered *cough*-stolen-*cough* at gunpoint while you were chasing terrorists and essentially saving the free world. And I’m not sure if it’s really YOUR responsibility to leave a note when you hit a car with a stolen car in the first place.
But if it WAS you who hit my car, Mr. Bauer, don’t worry, I completely understand.
Unless you were NOT chasing terrorists down for once and were really on your way to pick up your dry cleaning, in which case I expect an apology and a check for the damages.
Just kidding. Please don’t shoot me.
Scenario 2: You are Legend. I mean you are literally Will Smith. And the entire world’s population has died out due to a cure for cancer that you created and that went horribly wrong, and the only other living creatures are horrible vampire/zombie monsters that are trying to get you.
However, in this scenario, it’s only okay to hit other cars and not leave a note if you’re 1) driving at full speed away from the vampire/zombie monsters in the middle of the night when they can come out and attack you, and 2) spending your days working on finding a cure and therefore saving mankind.
If you’re just driving around during the day, it doesn’t matter if everyone else is dead, you still need to leave a note. In fact, that’s probably WHY the vampire/zombie creatures were so pissed off. They didn’t want to eat you. They were mad because you hit one of THEIR cars and didn’t leave a note. Vampire/zombies deserve common courtesy when you mess up their property too, you know!
Some legend YOU are.
Scenario 3: You’re in a Delorean and you have to make it to 88 miles per hour to get back in time and when you arrive in the past, you hit a car that wasn’t there when you left in 1985.
But be warned, this scenario ONLY applies if you’re using the time machine to see a Springsteen show from the late 1970s through the early 1980s. If you’re messing with the space time continuum to ensure that your parents kiss at the Enchantment Under the Sea dance so that you can be born, you’re still expected to leave a note.
And if you’re not bringing me with you to see Springsteen, and you hit MY car, I will travel back in time Terminator-style to kill your mother and make sure that you’re never born. But unlike Arnold, I’ll actually get the job done. Then I'll go see Bruce in 1978. Because really, what’s the point of time travel if you’re just going to go hang out with your dorky teenage parents? Lame.
So, to whoever hit my car and didn’t leave a note, I’m going to give you one day to find me and make it right. You have exactly 24 hours to fess up.
And if it turns out that you fit into one of the three aforementioned acceptable scenarios, all will be forgiven. But the odds aren’t in your favor because Jack Bauer isn’t real, the human race hasn’t been wiped out by a killer cancer vaccine, and no one took me back in time to the 1970s. Which means you should be very, very afraid about what awaits you in the afterlife.
Because trust me, you’re going to be BEGGING to hang out with Adolf, Saddam, Martha and Dick Cheney in the deepest circle of hell after ten minutes of being tortured under Dan Snyder’s evil regime.
Just ask any Redskins fan.