Everything grinds my gears. Damn kids, keep of my F-ing lawn or I'll beat you silly, darn you... shake hands; weak beer, dopers, diapers, rap music, broccoli, the lack of respect for your elders... me, in other words; Jap bikes, no more Vincents, the fake Indian motorcycles that are marketed as the real deal, forum moderators that wont let me cuss a blue streak, low octane gasoline. Fewer oil derricks on the landscape, manscaping, weak people, guys with purses, truly flowery gay men that even gay people think to be a tad too fluffy, no more broads and dames, just girls, blonds, loud noises, small screens, that the banjo has not yet been proclaimed America's instrument, crappy music, white kids that think they are black and act the part, camels and carmel, false teeth, pressed board rather than fine hardwood in my furniture, people with bad credit, most of my entourage, too few real men, far too many real fools, the NFL, Hockey, plastic dishware, McDonald's failure to keep the McRib a permanent part of their menu, no more trans-fats, no smoking signs, getting tickets for ignoring the no smoking signs, arrogent cops, speeding tickets, slow cars, tiny engines; like a 454 is so hard to build, god, it sucks; liberals. . . .
God, I am so depressed... EVERYTHING grinds my gears.