An Open Letter to the Inconsiderate Ass Who Hasn't Shoveled His Sidewalk Yet

Dear Inconsiderate Ass Who Hasn't Shoveled His Sidewalk Yet,

I know you're there. I can tell by the way your driveway is cleared out and how your mail gets picked up every day. Your stairs are clear from door to your driveway. I notice these things as I trudge pass your house in the morning and later in the afternoon, dodging traffic on the way to the bus stop.

I know you know I'm there. I know you can tell by the number of footprints that have built up on your sidewalk over the last week, and because I saw you peer from behind your living room curtain windows, as if you were hoping that somehow all the snow had gone away.

Perhaps you have a bad back and you're unable to shovel... but that couldn't be true, as your driveway is clear. Perhaps you've gotten sick and are now unable to go outside... but that couldn't be true either, because, as I said, your driveway is clear. Perhaps you've left town and aren't around to shovel the sidewalk... but again, that couldn't be true as I've seen your pudgy face staring back at me as I struggle past your house.

Look: I'm a reasonable person. I will give you the benefit of the doubt that, for whatever reason, you are unable to shovel those extra 15 ft. Perhaps you think it's the City's job. Perhaps you're trying to track the deer in the neighborhood. Perhaps you have been burying evidence under the snow, and you don't want anyone to discover it.

The more likely story, however, is that you're a lazy, selfish ass who would rather watch people fall down on his property then, you know, do what the City requires of you in these kinds of snow situations.

So, I am taking the liberty of alerting the neighborhood that you have a mental defect that does not allow you to empathize with other human beings and that you need some assistance in shoveling. That's what that hastily written yellow message on your snowy lawn reading "Plow Me Up The Ass" is all about. I'm hoping that someone in the neighborhood will gallantly leap to your rescue.

Not me, however, as I need to drink another five gallons of coffee to send another message to the guy who stole my demarcated, shoveled parking spot.

Yours,

O
The Angry Drunk Bureaucrat