Today was a new record for near death experiences – two in one hour. Well, three, really – if you count the suicidal feelings I encountered after not liking what I saw when my life flashed in front of my eyes.
The first one was when a rock shot up from the embankment where men in lab suits were mowing the grass and chipped my windshield. They had put up obvious warning signs that read “MOWING” but honestly – what can you do about it? The second one was when a cow from the shantytown stepped in front of my car very suddenly. I don’t know why they allow cows to cross the highway. I imagine it went something like this:
MUNICIPALITY: “You can’t let your cows wander free and live in your houses. This is a residential area.”
SHANTYTOWN: “Why not?”
MUNICIPALITY: “Well, for one there is no grass here. It’s cruel.”
SHANTYTOWN: “Well, now that you cut it, yeah.”
MUNICIPALITY: “Well, we’re the municipality. We say you can’t keep them.”
SHANTYTOWN: “Yes we can. It’s erm...part of our culture.”
MUNICIPALITY: “Oh! Well, in that case, it should be fine then.”
SHANTYTOWN: “Also if you could not fill the potholes that would be great. Our ancestors live in them.”
Of course, they could have easily put up fences or restricted the grazing along the highway but instead they put up baffling signs:
They even have one of a cow leaping over a fence that I couldn’t find a picture of. But the cows in the shantytown are kinda rife with Anthrax and live on plastic bags and municipal grass and there aren’t fences anyway so no leaping is being done. I mean, they’re not lemmings.