Curses, Foiled Again!

“Cussing” means “cursing”. We forget that. At least, I forget that. And it matters to me, at least kinda sorta.

I was in the far right lane of a major street, going about 35, when a car rolled past a stop sign halfway into my lane right in front of me. My reflexes were fast enough, and the car on the other side of me was slow enough, to avoid collision. I flipped off the offending driver. I don’t do that. Normally I just shout. Her action was so deliberate, and so uncaring of the consequences, that I wanted her to know how angry I was. Then I saw the motorcycle cop two cars back turn on its lights.

Now, you all know fucking well that I have no problem with profanity. Even Melva is used to my cussing though she’s of the “profanity indicates a lack of vocabulary” school of thought. I disagree. Colloquial profanity is used for emphasis. But let’s not get semantic. I’m not talking about profanity, I’m talking about cursing. When I flipped off that driver I wasn’t swearing at her, I was de facto cursing her. And that’s bad karma, no matter how justifiable the circumstances.

As it turns out, the motorcycle officer made a u-turn and ticketed somebody on the other side of the street. Within a block, there was another motorcycle officer giving someone a ticket. And for the last mile of my drive, there was a police car directly behind me.

I’m telling you, bad karma is bad karma. I did a good deed immediately thereafter to cancel it out.