One of my very favourite poems is the one when it dawns on Bukowski that the demented behaviour we witness every day as people drive their cars around mirrors in every way the dementedness of our behaviour when we are not driving hither thither.
It is the Truth, motherfuckers.
Yesterday on my way home from the sawmill I saw a guy eating something with chopsticks as his Japanese shitbox carried him and his special fried rice down the highway at 80 mph.
No fucking wonder Nazis working hard behind the scenes are trying to develop cars that drive themselves: we are fucking asking for it: Complete Control.
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