I Hate Mopeds
While there's probably a 15% chance I will like you if you don't own a moped, there's definitely a 100% chance I won't if you do. As my days in Madison dribble out like the final grains of an hour glass' sand, I've decided to address the two most terrible blemishes on the pride of our fair city--mopeds and their owners.
"Why now?" you ask. It all began today when I was trying to cross the street and was taken aback by a dissonant squeal. It sounded like someone farting through a kazoo. Disgusted, I raised my eyes to the road before me and saw some slack-jawed dunderhead streaking by. Suddenly, I was immersed in a flurry of sense-memory. I relived every moped encounter of the last three years in three milliseconds: pudgy fratboys zipping along with backward baseball caps; carrot-hued girls with mirrored sunglasses; pimpled twerps on their little crotch rockets; conceited athletes buzzing their way through traffic--all of them with a collective IQ no higher than that of the common forest hog.
I am at a loss to explain why anyone would ever own a moped. Madison is blessed with a surfeit of parking structures and a fine metropolitan bus system, not to mention plenty of bike racks. I suppose convenience must be a major factor--you can park nearly anywhere with a moped, it's faster than a bike and most people would never steal so pathetic a sight out from underneath you. Yes, in the world of late modern capitalism convenience is king, and to it we must pay homage.
But aren't there things more important than convenience? Perhaps pride, for instance? I suppose that I am a creature unusually preoccupied with questions of honor. Being dependent on the bus system for three years, I never once ran after a bus. And I've never told a woman I love her. But I have compromised myself. Yes, I may have withheld my consent from a paternity test or two. And perhaps I deny that the child has 'my nose.' And maybe the strange bumps demand that I inform my partners of indiscretions past. But I have never, ever, owned a moped.
Note: Vespas are not mopeds.
"Why now?" you ask. It all began today when I was trying to cross the street and was taken aback by a dissonant squeal. It sounded like someone farting through a kazoo. Disgusted, I raised my eyes to the road before me and saw some slack-jawed dunderhead streaking by. Suddenly, I was immersed in a flurry of sense-memory. I relived every moped encounter of the last three years in three milliseconds: pudgy fratboys zipping along with backward baseball caps; carrot-hued girls with mirrored sunglasses; pimpled twerps on their little crotch rockets; conceited athletes buzzing their way through traffic--all of them with a collective IQ no higher than that of the common forest hog.
I am at a loss to explain why anyone would ever own a moped. Madison is blessed with a surfeit of parking structures and a fine metropolitan bus system, not to mention plenty of bike racks. I suppose convenience must be a major factor--you can park nearly anywhere with a moped, it's faster than a bike and most people would never steal so pathetic a sight out from underneath you. Yes, in the world of late modern capitalism convenience is king, and to it we must pay homage.
But aren't there things more important than convenience? Perhaps pride, for instance? I suppose that I am a creature unusually preoccupied with questions of honor. Being dependent on the bus system for three years, I never once ran after a bus. And I've never told a woman I love her. But I have compromised myself. Yes, I may have withheld my consent from a paternity test or two. And perhaps I deny that the child has 'my nose.' And maybe the strange bumps demand that I inform my partners of indiscretions past. But I have never, ever, owned a moped.
Note: Vespas are not mopeds.
posted by araptirop | PERMALINK
4 Comments:
did you know that the university buys mopeds for members of its beloved football team?
yeah, i thought that was pretty fucked up too.
also, you might be insulting forest hogs. they're pretty intelligent.
Wow, I noticed that your blog is now the host of a number of moped/scooter advertisements. That's a headscratcher.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Yeah, we can thank those good old Google algorithms that. It is the height of irony though, isn't it? You could have an entire website devoted to anti-Semitism and Google would sell dradles on it. In fact, I bet that's why most of the incendiary racist pages don't run Adsense. Anyway, thanks for commenting. And nice to see you again, Jessi. It's been too long.
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