A road-doofus encountered on the way back from skiing reminded me of this old newsgroup post I made somewhere, so I dug it up:
I want an automatically-actuated “asshole mirror”. I keep one in the center console for those special occasions, but it just isn’t the same. It’s for that asshole, you know the one, in the SUV who sits two inches off your back bumper giving you a suntan with his brights. That’s when the asshole mirror comes out – hm, down a little…a little to the left…Bingo! He’s slowing way down.
…wait a minute dude, that wasn’t supposed to mean “pull into that ditch over there, roll over twice and burst into flames”. Damn.
QOTD: “I assume that’s not meant for us, right?” –Backseat passengers, noticing my “1-bit digital communication” to the motorist behind us.
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