text-and-drivePut down your fucking phone and drive. The only time it’s acceptable to text and drive is if you’re Siamese twin with more than two arms. Or in the extreme case you’re a human killing machine from the future made of liquid metal with the ability to grow appendages at will. Anything outside of that is just plain selfish! I don’t want to die at the hands of some self-absorbed socialite on their way to a bladder bust, wine and cheese party, swinger orgy, or LAN party. Whatever it may be, I guarantee it could wait, or they probably would have fucking called you.

Nobody texts emergency information. This isn’t some ill-conceived piece of shit horror movie where people would rather tap away on their phone’s loud ass keypad rather than talk so the killer doesn’t discover them in the closet….like the smell of fresh urine and feces wouldn’t be a dead giveaway. Bad movies aside, you need to do one of three things if you suffer from texting while driving:

1. Buy an earpiece and use it…in the car, asshole. Don’t just get it to look cool while you’re in line at Starbucks or to disturb everyone in a restaurant or movie theater.

2. Turn off your phone or put it in the damn trunk while you’re driving. You people are worse than sex addicts. Warren Buffet isn’t giving away his fortune to the first person to tweet @ him.

3. If number 1 and 2 don’t work, just cut your fucking thumbs off with a band saw; you don’t deserve them!

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