You stumbled out of my work place moments before me, a thick fog of beer stink trailing behind you. You were strutting down the middle of the street when I passed you on my bike (completely legally I might add), when all of a sudden I get hit by a wave of drunken insults issuing from your fetid mung-crusted mouth. I quote, "You stupid b****, I can't wait till they enact laws to get rid of you f***ing cyclists, ya that's right go home to f***ing Vancouver you stupid c***!" Anyway, all I can say is I'm sorry. You seem to feel that life has handed you a small stack of sh*t instead of some decent playing cards to get you through. That's sad. Living with yourself, you sad excuse for an adult male, is punishment enough I'm sure. —Er