This
involves getting up too early, to travel for too long on public
transport that is too slow, too cold and too uncomfortable. Doing
this for a month now has made me realise that what we need are
rules for modern living ' guidelines to ensure that people understand
the important things that matter ' and not piss me off in the
morning.
Here,
then, is a selection of my Transport Rules for Modern
Living.
Rule
#883: The Rule of Mornings
I hate mornings. As far as I'm concerned, any time before 11.30
am is still the night before. It is very cold, my hot water tank
is not very big and my girlfriend likes to wash her hair. And,
even with hitting the snooze button only three times,
I will still be guaranteed to be late for work without a hearty
breakfast to send me on my way ' unless you count coughed'up phlegm,
a cigarette and half a Xanax.
So,
after a cold shower and no breakfast, I am not going
to be in the kind of bright optimistic mood that wishes to share
in the glory of the morning. I am going to be in the kind of half'starved,
sleep'deprived rage that will seek to eviscerate you if you even
think of looking at me, let alone smile. Of course, I don't say
anything, I don't do anything ' and would appreciate it if you
did the same. Keep your chirpiness to yourself or I will bury
you.
Rule
#2908: The Rule of Queue
Hey pal! You see that line of people, waiting for the bus? See
how they wait for each other to get on? It's called a queue. It's
what separates civilised people from animals. Sure, you're in
a rush, you're running late, you wanna get on. We all do. But
we were here first, and we can't help the fact you're an inconsiderate,
thoughtless thug. You wanna push that old lady out of the way?
What about the disabled kid? Who are you? A fucking lawyer?
Rule
#5098: The Rule of Argument
The bus is too late? The driver doesn't drive to your satisfaction?
Take a number, friend ' and call State Rail in your own time.
Because when you spend 22 minutes on a packed bus on Bondi Rd
arguing the finer points of the Transport Act at 7.28 in the morning,
you're only making 39 enemies. Here's a solution: if you don't
like it, get a fucking car. Everyone else who acts like a moron
on the road has.
Rule
#4982: The Rule of Seats
I admit it, I like to spread out a bit on the seat. I don't really
like it when someone sits next to me on those horrible, thin,
static'inducing bus seats ' especially if they have body odour
or loud headphones (see Rule # 7734, The Rule of Headphones).
But, as noted in Rule 5098, I don't have much choice, as I don't
have a car. It's a risk you take, when you catch a bus, that you'll
have to share a seat, especially if it's crowded. But it's something
you don't have to put up with if the bus is empty ' go on,
go to another seat. There's another ' what? ' 40 seats on the
bus? You're not going to offend me if you move: I can see how
uncomfortable you are sitting next to me ' and if you keep sitting
next to me on this empty bus, you're going to make me want to
kill you.
Rule
#7734: The Rule of Headphones
You're a real groover, aren't you? I bet you just love putting
on that hardcore, satanic, thrash'speed metal; or the doof'doof
acid house; or maybe even Shania Twain's Greatest Hits (both of
them) and boogying away to the office. I don't care ' the reason
you have headphones is to save other innocent people from being
tortured with your atrocious taste in music. So turn it down!
It's worse than if you actually played them out loud. And while
I'm at it, stop singing ' you can't, that's why they've
got a record deal and you're on a bus to a dead'end job in Camperdown.
They put dogs down for less than this.
What?
Sorry? Can't hear me? Serves you right, you deaf cunt.
Rule
# 2134: The Rule of Egress
Hey, I know you're in a rush to get on the bus/into this lift/into
this tiny little shop. But why not let me out first? That way,
there'll be more than enough room for you and your fat arse, and
I can be on my way. How the fuck do you think I'm going to be
able to get out when you park your spare tyre in the middle of
the exit door? Are you so stupid you can't even grasp the basics
of physics, let alone common sense? You'll get in ' this fucking
shop isn't going anywhere ' and you'll get on, 'cos the
driver can see you, panting like a flat balloon at the door; and
although he'd probably like to leave you here, he can't:
it's his job to pick you up. So bloody relax! Or you will be forced
to undergo an emergency liposuction on this bus for shoving me
' and it will hurt as I only have a half'chewed biro
to do it.
The
exception to this Rule is that the person entering has a greater
right of way if the point of intersection is a public toilet,
where the consequences could get messy. Hey, my friend, I know
how you feel ' so be my guest and get in there!
Further
Rules for Mobile Phones
I
hate mobile phones ' what are they good for? For telling people
you're running late? For being contactable at all times? Tell
me this ' what for? How did people ever manage before them? Maybe
by being on time. And besides, who wants people to know where
they are all the time? Do you take calls when you're taking a
shit? (and if you do, who are you? Tony Soprano? Get
a fucking grip ' you're not that important).
Anyway,
I have a few Rules for Mobile Phones here because they are possibly
the most annoying modern invention of the last ten years ' apart
from perhaps the RTA E'tag, Foxtel and Diet Coke with Lemon. Also,
because on public transport, you're constantly reminded how fucking
annoying they are. If you're going to use them, use them properly
' they are not a fucking penis substitute, no matter how small
yours is, you limp'dick.
Rule
#87: The Rule of Mobiles
You wanna bitch about your bad boss? Or whinge about your inconsiderate
boyfriend? Or complain about your virulent candida? Feel free
' it's a democratic society we live in. But why dontcha get a
room? I don't need to hear about your banal and disgusting life
on the bus ' I'm busy enough ruminating and obsessing over mine.
Do you talk this loud in confession? I I think not ' so keep
it down, stupid ' or else do it on your own time,
and in your own space, not everyone else's.
The
exception to this rule is if you have done something interesting,
like say, discovered an open domain cure for cancer. Then
I might wish to overhear.
Rule
# 4567: The Rule of Text
Aren't text messages great? They allow people like me to, say,
let you know I'll be late again. Or, in extreme circumstances,
break up with you. Did you know what SMS stands for? Short Messaging
Service. Which means they're just fantastic for sending short
messages. So don't write a fucking essay or try to have a conversation
with me using them. Three messages is my limit ' say, for example,
<I'm
rning l8, there in 20>
<Where do we meet? Same place?>
<Yes. C u soon>
This
is sufficient. If you text me back with <ok> I will ignore
you. If you start asking me about the meaning of life, or give
me a long, detailed exposition on the symbolism inherent in magic'realist
novels, I will ignore you. Just pick up the phone ' it's
gunna cost you the same amount as all that texting! And save me
RSI.
The
inverse of this is Rule # 5482: The Rule of Email,
which states that while I know it's not really a letter, and because
it's sort of a new technology, that it mightn't have a lot of
rules to govern it, like say, formal or personal letters. But
it's a form of written technology, and if you can't send me a
message in a complete sentence (subject, verb, object) and you
insist on sending me one word mails to clog my inbox, I will block
you as a spammer. Fuck you ' don't you have enough work to do?
Also,
don't even think about sending me those fucked group emails about
lucky chain letters, or Microsoft paying me a dollar for every
forwarded mail. Are you the most stupid, gullible person in the
world? How were people lucky before these bloody things? Do you
think Bill Gates got rich giving money away? Who gives money away
apart from the Tooth Fairy? I bet you run around to ends of rainbows,
or wait for pennies from heaven. Keep waiting in the rain, sucker
' you ain't getting nuthin from me.
I
don't want anything inspirational or cute forwarded to me. I want
porn and pictures of bears eating people. The rest of it will
be junked.
And
if you're going to send me a joke email because you have no sense
of humour or originality, take the effort to get rid of the forwarding
headers and >> lines. You don't have to remember it, or
even tell it well ' so why not take ' what? three seconds? ' to
clean it up a bit? If there's more than one forwarding header
' into the bin it goes. And the same for files of your children
vomiting or in the bath: for starters, I don't want to see your
family naked unless any of them look like Paris Hilton and they're
being eaten by a bear. And if the file is bigger than 1Mb, or
it takes me more than a minute to open, or ' woe betide! ' it
crashes my computer, then fuck you. I will hunt you down and send
you an overwhelming volume of movies of my grandma with a potato
in her vagina. This is the most modern form of communication technology
and this is the best you can do? My gran was seriously twisted,
man.
Rule
#654: The Rule of Messages
As above ' I have to pay for my voicemail because phone companies
are run by the same bunch of arseholes who run the banks and public
transport. So, I don't have the time, inclination or money to
listen to you clear your throat, your sinuses, your ears ' whatever!
I don't care what you're up to, or how great it was to see me
the other day, or stating the obvious fact that you've missed
me again. Of course you've missed me, you defective, otherwise
you wouldn't be leaving a message on my voicemail. Where were
you born? Angola? Have you not ever left a message on a mobile
or home phone before? All I want is who you are, a brief idea
of why you've called, and where to call you back. When you start
musing on the nature of "phone tag" or can't remember why
you've called, I will hang up. I mean, it's not like you don't
have time to remember ' there's a recorded intro that tells you
to leave a message after the beep. You're not delivering a speech
to the UN General Assembly ' get it right! How are you going to
be when it's time to say your last words? "Um, oh, well
' I think I'm dying ' um, well anyway..." Shut up! And
die!
images
courtesy of Geek
Philosopher