Things That Are Pretty Good:

Things That Are Pretty Good: Being the First in an Intermittent Series Discussing Some of the Pleasant Phenomena We Associate with Life as We Know It

Every once in a great while, however, the Fan Mail Department at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” comes upon a more cautious e-mail. To be sure, the letter in question praises the staff fulsomely; still, it makes clear that our humble “weblog” leaves something to be desired.

In short, a number of devotees of our site have begun to suspect that we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” seldom offer commentary that is, for lack of a better word, positive. In fact, it is fair to say that a few of our readers find our outlook on life a wee bit pessimistic, if not downright futilitarian.

These opinions, coming as they do from the keyboards of some of our most loyal followers, shook us to the core. Indeed, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” spent our collective weekends in pensive self-examination. Is it really true, we collectively asked ourselves, that we come across, as one fan put it, “like a dyspeptic group of jaundiced nay-sayers”? We certainly hope not.

In order to remedy this potential flaw in our “weblog,” we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have taken two steps toward a cure. First, we have hired a team of motivational speakers to fill our lives with happiness, joy, and kindred delights. (Already, we have grown irritated by the nauseating bromides that dribble out of the mouths of these dime-store Deepak Chopras. And we can’t tolerate so-called New Age music.)

In addition, we have taken to providing you, dear reader, a new intermittent series devoted to discussing some of life’s pleasures. This way, our humble “weblog” will not only proffer condemnations of such irksome phenomena as the word “moist.” On the contrary: On occasion, we shall expatiate on a few of the things that make us glad we’re alive. Other than the fear of death, of course.

Accordingly, we are proud to announce that today’s edition of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” will be the first installment of this rosier view of human existence. Our Marketing Department has bestowed this new series with the catchy moniker “Things That Are Pretty Good: Being the First in an Intermittent Series Discussing Some of the Pleasant Phenomena We Associate with Life as We Know It.”

With all this in mind, allow us to inaugurate this novel introduction to our “weblog” by focusing in on one of life’s greatest pleasures. We refer, of course, to road rage.

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” aren’t particularly good drivers ourselves. In fact, a few weeks ago we received honorary memberships to the Asian Women’s Driving Association for our vehicular dexterity.

Even so, there isn’t anything we like better than a good spot of road rage. It seems, in fact, that almost anything can trigger this uncontrollable wrath in us—provided we are in a car. Let us touch upon a small number.

First, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” always seem to get stuck in more lights than a moth. What’s worse, we can’t stand it when we are caught at a light behind a driver who is unresponsive to the substitution of a red light for a green one.

Without fail, we seem to be directly at the heels of a chucklehead who is so busy investigating his hairline in the rear-view mirror, he hasn’t noticed the fact that he is, as they say, holding up the works. And, again without fail, this narcissistic goon recognizes the verdant color of the light just before we have the opportunity to honk our horn at him. Instead, we are left hurling various nasty epithets, such as “imbecile,” “moron,” and “Jessica Simpson.”

We also loathe drivers who appear to believe that taking a right-hand turn is the world’s most daring and sophisticated vehicular maneuver. As such, whist we are trapped behind their Dodge Darts, these addlebrains are heading rightward in about as much time as the performance of the average Wagner opera.

Well, dear reader, there you have it. In a life beset with tragedies, disappointments, and Charlie Rose, road rage is a great delight. If the world has got you down, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” humbly suggest that you hop into your Honda Civic, buckle up, and scream your head off at the dimwits with whom you share the road. As DeSylva, Brown, and Henderson noted years ago, “The Best Things in Life Are Free.” Given the price of gas these days, however, the best things in life are about $4.50 a gallon.