I wish there was wider adoption of public transportation in Colorado. It'd be nice to be able to take the train from Colorado Springs into Denver. Sure there's FREX but you might as well rideshare with a diaper fetishist and let grandma become intimate with your shoulder.
Trains are so much better. If I want to be on the road then I'll drive rather than share a communal bus.
Oh, here's the scene.
Mr. Martini: Why do you drinka so much? Please go-a home, Mr. Bailey.
Mr. Welsh: [sitting right beside George] Bailey? Which Bailey?
Mr. Martini: This is Mr. George Bailey.
[Mr. Welsh angrily pulls George Bailey up to his face by the lapels with one hand and hits him in the face with a right hook, sending him to the floor]
Mr. Welsh: Next time you talk to my wife like that, you'll get worse! She cried for an hour! It's not enough she teaches stupid children to read and write, you had to bawl her out!
The reason why I'm an insufferable control freak and how this aspect is detrimental to my mental health.
As I parked my ass I saw one of the people was the big Mayan chick from work who works in the auto loan department. A conversation was already underway but she looked at me, changed the subject and brought up zombies. Of course that had been the eschatological setting which had been bandied about in my head. Since it's winter that's the safest time to roam the world.
My only contribution was arguing that World War Z wasn't satire or social commentary and how the only funny parts were where Brooks made fun of celebrities even though he didn't have the brass balls to name name. The sole citation I made was from the end of the book where the narrator remarked about a D.J. known for penis and fart jokes having survived the crisis when many other people died in vain.
