An Open Letter to the Traffic Light Controllers of the City in Which I Reside, and to the Traffic Lights Within Said City.

So it's come down to this, eh? I have suspected for a long time that you had a grudge against me, but I had no idea that the conspiracy was so far-reaching.

How much coordination and effort does it take to ensure that every. single. light. on my way to work turns red just milliseconds before I reach it, no matter how fast, slow, or exact-speed-limit-y I am traveling? And is it just me, or does the light stay red just slightly longer when I'm waiting than it does otherwise? Don't pretend like you don't see me sitting down here, patiently waiting for it to turn green. I know you do. I know you have cameras everywhere. I saw that movie with Mel Gibson. And is it really fair to the other commuters to take your jealousy of my awesome car* (sometimes known as Betsy, sometimes as Black Betty, sometimes as My Lil' Nazi-Engineered Marvel**) out on me?

If you could consider revoking this hate-filled agenda against me and Betsy every once in a while, particularly when I only have seven minutes to make the ten-minute drive to work because I couldn't find my other shoe and I have to be on time because I have a conference call with corporate that starts immediately upon getting into the office, I would be extremely grateful. I would even consider a compromise or negotiation of sorts. You know that traffic camera on Maple? Keep the lights green, and I'll flash the camera for you. Yes, it'll be just like Mardi Gras, except without the beads and booze and "Girls Gone Wild" crew, and there will only be me instead of thousands of hot, drunk, nipple-exposing coeds.

Is it a deal?


*Now even more awesomer because AMBF tinted the windows for my birthday.

**Not that I condone Nazis or anything they stood for or did, because I don't. Killing Jewish people and other minorities was very wrong and Hitler was a mass-murdering fuckhead. In fact, I love Jews. Even if you guys did kill Christ, I'm totally over that.