Ask and you shall receive...

(Second post tonight, but I couldn't let this go without writing it down - Dr. Z)

Dear dark pagan gods, I hate Ohio sometimes.

So I put a Darwin Fish on the back of my Jeep about a week ago. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? Those little fish things that the Christians use to let the world know that they’re devout? Well, I got one that says ‘Darwin’ because a) I am an evil, atheist bastard, b) I feel it necessary to let Intelligent Design proponents know that they’re fucking stupid, and c) I feel it’s my duty to piss off the fundies.

So I just ran out at lunch to pick up a prescription (I work nights). I’m merging onto I-271, and some guy in a blinged out Mustang speeds up as I’m merging and starts waving at me and giving me a thumbs up. Not recognizing him, and thinking it’s probably just some nutjob, I wave back and get up to highway speed. As he passes me, I see that he has a fish sticker, with ‘Jesus’ on it. ‘Ahhhh,’ I think, ‘it’s raining like hell, and he can’t see that my sticker says ‘Darwin’”. I shrug, thinking nothing of it, and pass him to go two exits up to the pharmacy.

When I passed him, he must have seen my decal more clearly.

So, some ten minutes later, I park my Jeep at the local Giant Eagle Grocery store and begin pulling the collar of my trench coat up to brave the torrential downpour. Just as I’m about to step out of my Jeep, the guy in the Mustang comes whipping into the spot next to me. I crack my door as he gets out of his car to better hear him over the thumping bass of his "killa system".

My first glance at the moron tells me a lot about him. He is a skinny, white guy with a manicured goatee and frosted hair. He probably weighs all of about 150 pounds, soaking wet (which he is, standing in a grocery store parking lot during a thunderstorm as he is.) He’s also wearing a FUBU coat, size 60 something jeans, and an angry look. ("Yo! Icy Cold Stunnaz for Jesus, Boyyyy! Whitey D and his Suburban Posse! {Insert some gay gang signs you made up in study hall here.}"

This is how our conversation goes:

Moron/Fundie/Kevin Federline Worshipper: You think that sticker’s fucking funny?
Dr. Z: Yeah. Actually I do.
Moron: You’re an asshole!
Dr. Z: I know that. So you followed me ten miles down the interstate and 2 miles through the suburbs to tell me something I already know?
Moron: I should key your car.
Dr. Z: It’s a Jeep. They don’t like being called cars. And if you even breath on my Jeep I will kill you.
Moron: I'm serious!
Dr. Z: And so am I. I'll seriously kill you. And eat your liver.
Moron: You’re an asshole!
Dr. Z: And I’ve already acknowledged that. Go away.
Moron: I should kick your ass.

At this point I open my Jeep door and step all the way out. I’m wearing my black trench coat, black boots, and a baseball cap. I take off my hat to reveal my shaved head and shrug out of my trench coat. Dude quickly realizes that I am about 3 inches taller than he is, that I have about 75 or so pounds on him, and that I am not going to back down to his gangsta blustering.

Dr. Z: Do what you have to do, but do you think your Christ would approve of what you’re doing?
Moron(as he scurries back into his Mustang): Fuck you.
Dr. Z: And thank you for showing me the milk of Christian kindness.

So – just in case the coward swung back and really did try to key my Jeep, I had to forego picking up my prescription tonight.

Dammit.