Very Human Anger

Yes, I am blind, but I do see,
Evil people prosper over the likes of you and me ... always,
Little lamb on a hill, run fast if you can,
Good Christians, they wanna kill you,
Although your life has not even begun.
Morrissey, 'Yes, I Am Blind'

I feel like the poor sign-gluer from The Bicycle Thieves. The reason? Some complete and utter bastard stole my bicycle. I hate the human race. I hate having to stoop to narrow-mindedness, mean-mindedness, untrusting paranoia just to get by. I hate having to lock doors, keep track of valuables, haggle with insurance companies, mute advertisements, worry about friends late at night, repair vandalism, and pity streetwalkers. The solution to the problem is clearly to become a destructive, thieving, raping and murdering, corrupt, polluted, heartless, violent pimp. Unfortunately I'm rather underqualified for the position. But I am so very angry and unhappy about this violation of my life. I loved that bike. The name: 'Vector', appealing to my mathematical background. The crossbar: slightly crooked, leading ignorant hicks who thought it was funny to accuse me of riding a ladies' cycle. The colour: shiny red, contrasting with my ordinarily sombre taste. The simple mobility it provided me. Fifty trips to the beach last summer. Two bald tyres and two hundred dollars of repairs this year. If I'd met the person that did this to me at about six o'clock yesterday evening I think I would have set on like a wolf and tried to tear them to pieces, never mind the consequences. Ach!