Truth, Justice and the American Way

I wandered through "The Children's Place" and sighed a long quiet sigh. The kids followed me up to the counter again, knowing that mommy was going to ask for the manager. Yet again, the damn racks were too close, leaving no room for a wheelchair to navigate through the store. Damn straight if there wasn't an adorable preteen in a wheelchair trying to check out a stripped hoodie...but no go, since she couldn't.f-ing.get.to.it.

This is my thing. I stalk shitheads who put racks too close to each other. Christmas is a real pain the ass, since I'm perpetually asking for some manager or another to move their frigging racks 30 inches apart to allow for a wheelchair to pass through. It happens to be the same size as my stroller, so it's easy to prove my point while ramming my kids' arms and legs through a space meant for one-single-able-bodied anorexic.

It occurred to me that this is my Thing. I like Justice. I believe in Guns. I like the idea of an eye for an eye. I call 911 for the asshole who was running folks off the road with the "How am I Driving?" bumper sticker (then I called his boss, that MO-FO freak going over 110 MPH). I believe that illegal immigration should be handled by who is best to serve our country (yeah that means kick the shitheads out). I HATE liars. I think rapist should have their balls ripped off (um, I actually mean it) and that anyone who harms a child should d.i.e.

My standards are high, I know. But here is what I know: Justice is my calling. Truth is my baseline and the American Way is a vehicle to get me there.