Reason #439295 I Don't Like People Much.
Scenario: The Buffalo Marathon runs by about a half a block near my home. I grabbed a cup of coffee, the kids, wife and the dog and we walked down to the corner to cheer some of the runners on. Our street is one of the cross-town arteries, and somewhat heavily trafficked, so race volunteers were camped out on either side of Richmond Avenue holding up "RACE IN PROGRESS. PLEASE STOP" signs. Most motorists were cooperative and patient.
As we stood there clapping, we heard a series of honks, coupled with some inaudible shouts in the distance. We turned to see a driver hastily maneuver his sh*twagon past all the other cars waiting to cross past the race. At the first opening, this crusty old dude, races past.
A**hole Driver: I hope you all f*cking die.
Prego: (To Wife) Well, that just ruined my morning.
O-Dog & Fletch: (Clapping at marathoners.) Go! Go!
Morning partially salvaged. It'd have been completely salvaged if the bastard wrapped his Chevy P.O.S. around a lamp post.