Look here, asshole. This sidewalk isn’t big enough as it is. The individuals that approved the plans on this side of town either did not anticipate this level of foot traffic, or did not foresee the degree to which a lack of consideration would characterize pedestrians’ mentalities here. Either way, you have too much going on as you are pushing a stroller, walking your dog, and speaking on your cell phone and it is directly affecting the mobility of the other people who are trying to get somewhere via this sidewalk.

I will say that at least you aren’t pushing one of those tandem strollers where two children sit side by side occupying every last inch of pavement, but your wife is probably doing it about 10 feet behind me. Or perhaps she isn’t because she cut you off after one child due to your arrogance and general buffoonery. That would make me a little happier, because it would be clear evidence of natural selection in action, but there’s a chance that your salary range has circumvented that like Magellan to the earth. You probably didn’t get that joke because in your college history class you were busy trying to score weed so you could get baked before the Dave Matthews concert. I don’t blame you, every time I hear them, I wish I had something that would alter my reality as well.

The point is, you should not, under any circumstances, be trying to walk your dog, push a stroller, and talk on your cellphone at the same time, let alone on a busy sidewalk in a crowded neighborhood. You’re not even using a Bluetooth, which is ironic because you totally seem like the type of person that would spend a lot of time with one of those in their ear when it doesn’t really need to be, such as during a haircut or while bowling. This is an example of a time when it might actually be appropriate as your hands are occupied by a child and a pet-things most people cherish lovingly but are really just accessories for you. I’m sure your child will one day reflect on this and resent you for including her in your embarrassing behavior (in addition to your drinking problem). Your dog, while well groomed and cared for, is probably now evaluating how bad the shelter really is because all that stuff you hear could just be a bunch of liberal bs perpetuated by the mainstream media like the health benefits of acai berries.

So, think a litle harder before you leave the house next time and take some advice from the Shakespeare of our day, Meatloaf, who said “Two out of three ain’t bad”. I can tolerate two of the three activities you are pursuing at the moment, however attempting all three is more unacceptable than the fact that Tim McGraw has his own cologne which I imagine smells like a mixture of Marlboro Lights and PBR. Cheers.

Dear White Guy Trying To Take Part In The African Drum Circle,

I think it’s great for all of us to expand our horizons and experience other cultures as much as possible. Certainly you have fully embraced this concept, and for that, I applaud you. Your efforts have further united the people of varying cultures and backgrounds here at this street festival because they’re all in agreement that this looks a bit awkward.

I know the group of people dressed in traditional African garments playing African songs on the drums are unique and quite cool, but you look weird standing there hovering about with them. I’m sure they appreciate you going the extra step to purchase and wear traditional African garments as well, but you know that one time you went to a sushi place and instead of a Japanese chef in front of you, it was a blond guy named Nathan? This is sort of like that.

It may not be nice to say, but I don’t think they want you as a friend, and at this point you are probably creeping them out. Let’s put it this way, I doubt that on St. Patrick’s Day any of them will call you up to see if you’re down to have a couple Guiness. It’s not that they don’t want to take part in something like that, it’s just that you seem to be kind of hanging out a little too long and although none of them have actually said it, I think they’re just kind of waiting for you to go away because they have a good thing going and you aren’t really helping.

I bet none of them like that you adopted a Swahili name which you now introduce yourself as either. It’s because you’re supposed to be given those types of things from someone else, that’s where their true meaning and significance come from. It’s like how Shaq gave himself the nickname “Big Aristotle”. One day he probably loaded the dishwasher from back to front instead of front to back and thought to himself:

“Wow that worked out a lot better than loading it from the front, I must be a thinker, and thinking can make you smart.       Who’s the first smart person I can think of besides Bill Nye the Science Guy…Aristotle was smart I think, so I’ll                   call myself  ‘Big Aristotle’ cause I’m tall, but also quite insightful given my recent dishwasher progress.”

The point is, the nickname would have a lot more meaning if someone else thought he was insightful and gave him the name instead, but since he came up with it himself, it is disregarded faster than the “rap” songs he records. He probably has some gold and platinum record frames in his place for his albums which he made himself rather than actually acquiring them through album sales the way you’re supposed to. Am I making sense here?

Further, you probably will not be invited when the group does a tour down the coast, stopping at local festivals to bring their music, cultural understanding, and good vibes to others. This should serve as the first indication that they are more or less done humoring you. I don’t want you or anyone to stop yearning for more knowledge and cross-cultural experiences because just like reductions in defense spending, that would be un-American. However, I do want you to stop over-doing it. Similarly, I watched this thing on the History Channel about a ninja training school in Japan and it was mostly awkward American white guys like you, so don’t worry, I’m gonna get to them too, but I feel that I need to share this because the people in the African drum circle are probably too nice and focused on positivity to do it themselves.

*This post was approved by DavidGorcey.com’s Cultural Sensitivity czar, Terrence Brewer.

Dear guy in seat 10E,

I will be the first to admit that this letter is not the best way to communicate with you. It is passive-aggressive and accomplishes only the soul-cleansing, satisfying sensation of putting down on paper what 4 rows of people on Flight 780 should have said to you.

What they, or better yet, a crew member should have said to you is “Sir, you really, really need to turn the music on your iPod down because we can all hear it, and it is making us angry.” I think you missed the lady two rows in front of you who kept turning around, trying in an indirect way to let you know that she could hear something and was looking for its source. You had none of this, however, adding it to the list of other things you have none of like style, portion control, or most importantly, consideration.

I can’t get that great of a look at you because you are somewhat hidden by the even larger woman in seat 10F. I am leaving an anonymous note to the flight crew that the armrests in seats 10E and 10F will need to be examined for stress damage as we speak.

Anyhow, I have decided to call you Daryl because that’s what you look like. So, Daryl, a man your age which I take to be mid-30′s should not under any circumstances have the songs that you have. If only you had explored diferent music genres as vigorously as you have explored the product offerings of the Wendy’s value meal. I know for a fact that you contribute to society less than you take from it. This is based on my deduction that you clearly cannot think for yourself because the Billboard top 10 does that for you. If you cannot come up with your own decisions on such a basic concept as music, I surmise that you have nothing to add to society, yet you exist and this requires resources leading society to a net loss as a result of your existence.

Dear Hipsters,

There are many things in this world that we wish were different. We wish that all fast food restaurants served breakfast past 10:30. We wish the government did a better job at coordinating organized beatings of people who wear a bluetooth headset while working out. We wish Geico would give us a Caveman commercial where they actually kill, cook and eat that terrible British-accented gecko they use in their other spots.

We also wished that you were smart enough to see the irony in belonging to an entire sub-culture that tries desperately to be anti-most types of culture (including, I hear, horticulture). Make no mistake, hipsters, you are mostly just silly and the only thing more asymmetric than your haircut is your confusion. I don’t quite know when your numbers grew to the levels of an actually identifiable group, but I do know that you look like a bunch of carnies with college degrees.

I am also trying to figure out how to ward you off. I have a feeling it involves talking about investment strategies, but another idea may be to wear t-shirts that say “I (picture of a heart) the modern history of the US military”. That would probably get you to stay away. Another idea I had is to convince society that only people who disapprove of hipsters should get pin-up girl tattoos. This way, every time you get one, you will be indicating that you disapprove of yourself and back in the old neighborhood we had a word for this, and that word was “moded”.

Put that issue of The Onion and your Lucky Strike down though cause there’s a couple things I do like about you:

• You ride bicycles which is not only better for the environment, but also increases your likelihood of being hit by a car and therefore largely out of sight for a while. Although, this does means I may have to see you in your hipstered-out wheelchair that you will put lots of stickers on and adorn with flags.
• You recycle pretty much everything because that helps you feel better than others. This is also good for the environment, and your recycling of bad, Ramones-inspired-but-less-cool fashion creates less demand for clothing that others like myself want to buy, putting downward pressure on prices. I take the savings and invest them in interest-bearing accounts, but you wouldn’t know anything about that.
• You shop at progressive grocery outlets featuring products from cooperative farms or local organic growers. It’s always good to support local businesses and make healthy decisions. I find it interesting, however, that before going there, you will check your iPhone to see if you got the email featuring coupons for said establishment so that you can support these people slightly less even though you have the discretionary income to pay for fancy accessories with expensive data plans.

There is much, much more that could be pointed out, like drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon is only really cool when it comes with a shot of Wild Turkey and costs $4.00, not when it is $6.00 and served at your friend’s “art show”/housewarming party at his live/work loft he shares with his ex-girlfriend who designs skateboard decks and knits flask holders in her spare time. You get my drift, hipster? Good, now roll that pant leg up, and ride off into the sunset cause I hear there’s an indy theater over there that is showing a director’s cut of Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro (1983).

Dear Guy Who Plays Maroon 5 Loudly While Driving,

Oh man. Mannnnn. What happened to you? When you stepped into your car this morning, you clearly thought to yourself “I bet playing my radio really loud with the windows down will draw positive attention to me, likely from females”. Little did you know the way it would actually turn out. I’m not sure why you, or anyone follows this logic, but it is especially erroneous when the loud music you employ in search of this attention is the substance-free music by the Saltines of the music world, Maroon 5, as I will explain.

It is possible that you were playing a different song on your adult-contemporary preset station which ended and that Maroon 5 came on which you mistook for a Freecreditreport.com commercial and therefore decided not to change the channel. However, by the first chorus, you should have realized what was going on and that Maroon 5 was no qualified co-pilot on your quest for coolness. Allow me to explain why you are in error. There are many possible reasons why individuals, particularly males, play music loudly which I shall enumerate, but your decision to play Maroon 5 is flawed and downright laughable.

1. Music can convey one’s identity. For instance, rap music is frequently the genre blared from automobiles driving slowly, and this is because the playing of loud rap music is a male’s way of saying “I listen to rap music loudly because I identify with its message, so therefore I too am somewhat tough and street-savvy, making me a suitable mate for for females.” If the music you play loudly conveys the idea “I identify with Maroon 5′s message of crap wrapped entirely in shit” the notice paid to you by others, and particularly potential mates, will be one of confusion, pity, ire and immediate dismissal from the list of those with which courtship would be considered.
2. Loud music=expensive stereo=higher status. Someone might also be playing their music at full blast to announce that they do not have the factory original stereo in their car. The message conveyed here is “I have an expensive stereo, and the fact that I have discretionary income to allot to such features indicates an enviable financial status, even if these loud sounds emanate from a ’98 Pontiac Bonneville.”Even if this strategy is effective in illustrating status through one’s audio system, its effect is nullified by the lack of sophistication displayed through the poor use of such a status symbol. It’s like if you bought a Mercedes and used it to carry farm equipment. It had potential to achieve its goal of denoting higher status, but then you f-ed it up with how you actually used it.
3. Music preferences help satisfy basic needs of collective acceptance. People use music to announce to their peers that they are part of the group and thereby observe the cultural norms existing in their societies. No one likes to be an outsider except maybe the characters who were the outsiders in the movie “The Outsiders.” This is why most of the time when one hears a car playing loud music, it is a song they recognize as being popular. Although the poor-man’s Goo Goo Dolls known as Maroon 5 have had chartable success, it is a mistake to translate this into the music you choose to identify your presence and contact potential mates with as no one actually thinks they’re cool except maybe you. Everyone at their concerts won tickets by being the 5th caller at 5:55 on the weekday drive-time radio show hosted by people who will probably be more financially secure 3 years from now than anyone in that band (term “band” applied loosely). Sadly, your desperate cry for society’s warm, loving arms will instead attract its cold, hard shoulder.

By now I hope you see the flaws in your logic and why your decision to drive around blaring Maroon 5 will likely have the inverse effect than the one you set out for. Potential mates will say to themselves “Although my attention was achieved as I attempted to establish the source of the loud music, the poor choice in such music indicates to me that this individual is less likely to be a well-adjusted person who can discern what is accepted as enjoyable and beneficial in an ever changing society. Such characteristics are not desirable for my offspring as this will decrease their chances of successfully finding mates, meaning that my genes will not be carried on as I hope they will, and therefore I will avoid any potential mating with this individual”. It’s that simple, Guy who plays Maroon 5 loudly while driving, but you probably can’t hear me.

Dear guy who practices Karate in front of the mirror at the gym,

I wanted to follow up as it has been many months since our paths last crossed. This brings much joy to my heart. The joy is probably not unlike that which you experienced when Sensei Mario gave you your yellow belt with the blue certificate that had the dragon sticker on it. What a nice early 27th-birthday present that was. This means you’re only one rank away from your orange belt which comes with the “I kick it at Carlos’ Karate & Cabinetry Consortium” license plate holder.

Anyway, maybe you’ve started a funny blog of you’re own about bloggers and the devastation you will unleash on them when you learn to do the katas with the sais. I don’t know, but although we haven’t seen each other in a while, I fear that this is merely a ruse and that you have begun to send your minions to do your bidding for you instead.

I say this because this evening I found your protege, the guy who boxes on the treadmill at the gym. Instantly, I discerned that this individual is neither a runner nor a boxer. This is because he threw nothing but left-right combos over and over for minutes on end which will not win you any sort of fight much like your practicing of the reverse roundhouse kick. No jabs, hooks, crosses…he’d be better off sticking to “Boxing Day” which we don’t celebrate in the states because we didn’t break away from the king so that the names of our holidays could continue to make no sense.

I guess I don’t know for sure about the running part, but I like making judgments about people. Also, I saw him holding the handrails at the beginning of the third lap on level 4.5, so I’m “running” with it. Ha ha, get it? I’m funnier than treadmill boxer (likely related to Barbara Boxer) is uncoordinated. Maybe he was just fired up from the 6:30-7:30 “Turbo Boxing Boot Camp” class led by Randy F., but I disagree with his logic that publicly combining two of his mediocre abilities must be a good idea, kind of like that Indian place run by the Greek guy which now also serves pizza. I know he’s trying, but watching him box on the treadmill makes me want to beat him like a student who dares step foot in Sensei Carlos’ dojo without bowing to the bonzai tree on the console table first.

I’ve looked, and I have not found the “boxing while running on the treadmill” routine on any of the major fitness sites, but perhaps if he finds success, the routine will catch on like all those exercises people now do on those inflatable “Swiss” balls for their “core”. Maybe you should have him try boxing on the Swiss ball rather than the treadmill, which, if I’m not mistaken, is part of the test for purple belt? Just like the true origins of the nunchaku, you would know this better than myself, but check with Sensei Carlos, and if he’s too busy reading Chuck Norris’ syndicated column (I’ll try one: troubled waters take bridges over Chuck Norris) ask Sensei Mario after he gets done hanging up that picture of a miscellaneous Japanese character he got at Sam’s Club.

Dear guy who dances by himself at the club,

I applaud your brash, bold, style. I honor the way you fear no taboo and pulsate to the music with no one associated with you nearby, especially before anyone else has bothered to start dancing. You seek not the easy road to meeting women for it is the lone raver out on the floor who complicates his quest for the opposite sex’s affections.

It would be different if it were 2:00 AM, the place was closing soon, and everyone was as inebriated as they are going to get tonight. However, it is 10:15, people are still relatively sober, and you are moving to a poor remix of “Bizarre Love Triangle” like a child that has spun himself dizzy. Onlookers have made the early decision to steer clear of you for the duration of the night, and some are snapping pictures with their cellphones.

It is hot in here, so perhaps it’s not entirely your fault, but the amount of sweat exiting your body at this point is rather unacceptable. I’m guessing that where you’re from this is ok, however, we are not in one of the various former Soviet satellites or current Balkan states that may be your home, so I need to ask that you observe local custom and cultural norms by not behaving this way. You know how Americans go to your country and they walk into the store you’re in and order bottled water in English only to create a loud, awkward scene when they find out it’s carbonated and try to get their money back or “talk to the manager” and then everyone disdains them and wishes they would go home? Well, this is kind of like that, and it’s just one of those things where we’re not going to see eye-to-eye like tight pants on men, the metric system, Nutella, whether or not “Sasha” is a boy’s name, and the degree to which things should smell like cigarettes as well as the issue of whether or not kindergarteners should be able to smoke them.

So, hey, no big deal, but next time let’s go easy on the Carling, ciders or any other substance involved so this doesn’t happen again. It’s a shame that the effort spent slicking back your hair and putting on your Diesel t-shirt which has all sorts of patches on it and matches your F-1 racing inspired Pumas has gone to waste like this, but maybe when you wake up tomorrow at the hostel after that annoying Spanish girl’s alarm clock goes off to Daft Punk, you will begin to put everything together and pick up the pieces. No more dancing, pulsating, or gyrating, arms raised, eyes closed by yourself, especially at 10:15 (22:15 in case you’re confused). Trust me- everyone, Diesel or no Diesel, will be better off…

You must have some sort of eye problem. Cataracts, glaucoma, or perhaps you have had your pupils dilated within the last few hours. Because, you see, you are wearing your sunglasses inside, Maverick, and it needs to stop. Your Oakleys are quite nice, and probably contributed $15.00 of commission to the high schooler working the Sunglass Hut afternoon shift when you purchased them. I’m sure they also effectively filter out sunlight when it is present. However, inside this building, there happens to be none. There is a bit of artificial light thanks to fluorescent or possibly incandescent fixtures, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering any of the other people in here except for you. Maybe your eyes are just sensitive, and you need them, or maybe you’re just a douchebag.

You know that song “Sunglasses at Night” by Corey Hart? The one where the video reflects a police state in which people are made to wear sunglasses at night? Well, I gotta believe he used this idea to exaggerate his message and highlight the ridiculousness of such a system. It’s funny how one person, in this case, Corey Hart, can look at a situation and use it as an extreme example of something undesirable, and you can take the same concept and apply it to your every day life with the message being completely lost on you. Basically, you are being clowned by Corey Hart, so good job with that, guy who wears his sunglasses indoors. Oh, and he’s French Canadian by the way.

Just like there’s no need to wear sunglasses at night, and in the absence of bona fide health reasons, there is no excuse to wear them inside unless you are one of the following:

• Participating in one of those televised poker tournaments
• Keanu Reeves in “The Matrix”
• Members of the band “Korn”
• Stevie Wonder
• Joe Camel

Even Joe Camel frequently appears without sunglasses on inside and he is a cartoon. That means an artist drawing a cartoon said to himself “Even a fictional cigarette-smoking camel surely wouldn’t wear his sunglasses indoors all the time”. The guys in “Korn”have probably done enough drugs to make Keith Richards look like a Mormon, but more importantly, they’re from Bakersfield, so they kind of have an excuse. Stevie Wonder and Keanu Reeves in “The Matrix” require no explanation unless you’re asking who Stevie really wrote “My Cherie Amour” about. Anyway, I think you get the picture here. Stop it, guy who wears his sunglasses indoors, I mean it.

Dear bartender who won’t look at me to let me order,

I know you’ve been busy tonight. The endless requests for Mojitos has been taxing, taking it’s toll on you through the mashing of mint leaves in the glass with that wooden thing. You’re going to need to ask your Bacardi rep for a new one of those.

I know you’d rather serve that group of four girls at the end of the bar, and I don’t blame you. If there was a hot female bartender here as there is in many other establishments, I would probably have a better chance at getting a drink because I look like a sucker and she thinks that being hot will make me tip her more. However, she is not working tonight, and you’re all I’ve got. All I want is a rum and coke, or possibly a redbull and vodka, I haven’t decided yet.

It’s busy in here and I’m leaning in hoping to make eye contact for that brief moment that indicates I would like to purchase one, maybe two alcoholic beverages from you. But you and your black button down shirt are having none of it. You know I’m here, my existence is not debatable like that of the Yeti, Extraterrestrials, Leprechauns, Unicorns, the Lochness Monstser, Delta Force, and the Chupacabra (soon to be interviewed on davidgorcey.com).

You are about to make me irate with your insolence. I have seen Cocktail, and I know that this experience could be so much better. You don’t even do anything cool to deserve the extra dollar social mores dictate I leave on the counter once you bring me my beverages. Strangers are now jostling me in ways other people would pay good money for as we vie for your attention, but you are taking your sweet time with the 4 Cosmos for that group of three girls and a confused guy. So get over yourself, bartender who won’t look at me to let me order, because if you don’t, I’ll take my $12.00 somewhere else.

Dear guy hanging out of the sunroof of the limo,

We have never met, but there are a few things I am pretty sure I know about you already:

1. You are on a bachelor party or some other sort of testosterone-oriented night out with several of your other male friends.
2. You have been drinking Keystone since about 1:30 this afternoon.
3. You bought that new “going out shirt” you’re now wearing this morning at Armani Exchange, and you’re telling everyone it’s “Armani” because you don’t know the difference.
4. Most of your friends’ names have the suffix “Dog” attached to them, and are possibly hyphenated with the starting initial of their given name (examples: G-Dog, T-Dog, and 24 other possible combinations)
5. The two most prolific words in your vocabulary are “Yeahhh!!!!!!” and “Whooooo!!!!”, however the word “bro” rears its ugly head quite frequently as well.
6. Although your appearance makes your sexuality somewhat ambiguous, you appear to be a fan of females, and are comfortable in the safety of shouting at them from moving vehicles.
7. You have no intentions of sharing the prized sunroof position with any of your compatriots who are relegated to shouting things from rolled down windows at best.
8. As far as you know, shots come in only two varieties: Jaeger, and Kamikaze.
9. You never miss an opportunity to quote Caddy Shack, the “More Cowbell” Christopher Walken SNL skit, or most annoyingly, Borat.
10. You are positive that you could have gotten that stripper’s phone number if C-dog “hadn’t been so gay” and wanted to leave.
11. You dance with an awkwardness that betrays an affluent suburban upbringing whenever the song “Drop it like it’s hot” is within earshot, “Marley totally changed your life”, and you are likely the bastard who always plays “Don’t stop believing” on the jukebox. If I were Steve Perry, I would so kick your ass for only bothering to sing along to the first verse. You should know that “Oh, Sherrie” is better anyway.

There are many other things, guy hanging out of the sunroof of the limo, but I think you get the point. I see you only in passing, but we are already well acquainted, and I hope to never find myself inside a vehicle with you and your “going out shirt”.