To The Rock That Broke My Windshield

Dear Rock,

What the hell? Could you not see where you were going? Do you have smaller versions of yourself in your head? Lower and to the right and we could have both been killed! My insurance is going to go up big! That stupid lizard with his Britishness will be so pissed at me. I hate you!

I don't hate you. It's misplaced anger. I'm the one who messed up. I'd like to apologize to you. I'm sorry I left the scene of the accident. After the hit, I panicked. You always hear on the news about hit and runs and you think to yourself, how can someone do that? Then you are in that situation and you see how. Survival instincts kick in. You feel like you have your whole life ahead of you and this could considerably shorten it so you run. You run and don't look back. 

I keep daydreaming about you bouncing down that highway. Cars and trucks passing by you. I snap out of it in a cold sweat. Based on trajectory and point of impact, you may have even hit another windshield. If so, I'm hoping that driver did the right thing and stopped. I'm hoping the world has at least one person out there that gives a crap. I'm hoping because it's all I have left to do.

Sometimes, I want to get back in the car and head that way to see that you're ok with my own eyes but I can't. I don't think I can drive right now. Part of it's the grief but mostly it's because of the GIANT CRACK TRAVELING IN MULTIPLE PATHS ACROSS MY FRICKIN' WINDSHIELD, YOU PIECE OF CRAP ROCK! Where did all of my sympathy go? It never really existed. You're a stupid rock and you ruined my day! Go to rock hell which I'm guessing is an eternity of being skipped across a pond with an instilled and heightened fear of drowning. If we ever meet again, you better take me out because I'm going to come at you with everything my car's got.

Waiting for the day,

Kevin

Space Beer, Really?

Japan has given us some great stuff: anime, the digital watch, a rhyme for a rap lyric ending with "flash in the pan." Now, they give us something even greater. Space beer. That's right. Space beer. But before you get excited and dream of glass bottles with Saturn's rings impossibly floating on the outside, the beer is "made with barley descended from grains that traveled in outer space." That is cheating. Can we really label this "space beer?" If that is the case, you can call me "Underwater Kevin" because my parents' nether regions were underwater at some point before I was born. Great, thanks a lot, Japan. Now, I'm thinking about my parents and their...(shudder).

Here's the thing, space beer should be brewed in space using the heat left behind by a comet or something equally space hot. At the very least, it should be set up and mounted outside the rocket so the hops boiling happens upon reentry. Six packs should come with a cozy shaped like a moon boot. Upon putting the can down, support legs should extend down and dig themselves into the coffee table (unless moon boot cozy is in use). Space dust should be infused in every can leaving a gritty film in your mouth after you swallow. That space dust film lets you know you're not drinking an impostor space beer like the aforementioned Japanese model. When you drink too much of it, your puke should defy gravity and float up to the sky. Am I wrong? What the hell, Japan? Don't you ever get my hopes up like this again! Ever!