of course, you know, this means war

I am making it my personal mission to destroy the psychological health and well-being of all Cadillac Escalade owners, doing whatever is necessary to reduce them to quaking piles of nervous jittery humanity, bunny-like, cringing at noises and begging to not be touched.

These are some of the hugest suv's ever created, and they are Cadillacs to boot, imparting to the owners a sense of entitlement not seen since the Spanish and British first landed in the southeastern seaboard of what would become the US. In every shiny chrome detail, every impeccable accessory, every cup holder designed to hold super-sized drinks (what else would you expect?) every inch of hulking space they gluttonously hog on city streets (I'm sorry, but the two times a season you drive the kids' team to soccer practice DOES NOT excuse this disgusting waste of gasoline and space; and let's get real, you never go camping anyways! who are you kidding?!?), the Cadillac Escalade is a revolting display of a blatant disregard for the existence of others and the responsibility we share to streamline the daily existence of others and consume earth's resources (of which space is just one) responsibly.

In the last three (three!) days, I have had two cut me off in traffic, two pull out in front of me making right-hand turns onto busy streets, one almost merge its gargantuan, 2-miles-to-the-gallon ass into the side of my teeny car, and one make it impossible for me to park in a particular lot due to its owners' arrogant misconception that It Is Okay For Me To Park Diagonally Across These Two Parking Spots.

Their latest print ad, seen in Vanity Fair, states "In a world of tofu, we're a big juicy steak."

True in so many, many ways.

I'm not a vegetarian, but forgive me if I do not find equating the Cadillac Escalade with a steak exactly...compelling.

Fuck 'em. Living in LA has pushed mild-mannered me over the edge.

I have to do something.