doral 100s menthol in a soft-pack
 I am generally a very impatient person all the time. For example, I might be driving to the store to get a bag of potato chips or something.
As I'm driving to the store to get my potato chips there might suddenly be an ambulance that turns onto the same street as me and I have to pull off to the side of the road. Eventhough I know intellectually that there is a person inside who is facing some sort of life or death situation, I still mutter something like: what's this bullshit? Then I feel really aggravated and impatient until the stupid ambulance is gone.
But what really gets me steamed is when I'm in line at a convenient store and some redneck wants an obscure, impossible to find pack of cigarettes that he makes the clerk look for. I mean, I don't even consider cigarettes a very legitimate consumer product to begin with. But when you start wasting everyone's time by searching for some one in a million brand on that wall of a million cigarettes, then I really start to lose it.
It usually goes something like this.
Clerk to redneck: Will that be all?
Redneck: Nope. I also need a pack of Doral 100s Menthol in a soft pack.
Me: (thinking) Oh Christ!
The clerk turns and looks at the big wall of a million cigarettes scratching his head. Then he starts to reach for a certain pack.
Redneck: No, that aint them. Them's just Doral lights. I need 100s.
The clerk runs his finger along the rows and columns of cancer sticks.
Clerk: These?
Redneck: Nah, that's a hard pack. I need a soft pack.
Me: What difference does it make you stupid fuck?! It's all just dried tobacco that kills you and wastes my time.
Clerk: These?
Reneck: Nope. Them's ulta-light, l00s.
At this point my brain becomes flooded with vivid fantasies of annihilating the redneck with all sorts of gruesome and creative methods. I imagine rabid pitbulls bursting into the store and ripping him apart, chewing the Billy Ray Cyrus mullet off of his scalp. Or I picture the 90 inch muzzle of a battleship gun blowing his head off at point-blank range. Another favorite fantasy is that my hands grow really super-big and I just crush the life out of him.
Meanwhile, I'm saying in my head over and over: what's the fucking difference! what the fucking difference! what's the fucking difference!
Finally, the clerk gets the right brand, make, and model of cigarette off the wall and gets ready to ring the redneck up.
Clerk: Will that be all?
Redneck: Nope. I'm gonna get me a couple scratch offs.
1:57:20 PM 
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When I was growing up in the 70s and 80s I used to watch the evening news almost every night with my family. Night after night we would watch news stories about the unemployment rate, and hostages in Iran and horrific natural disasters.
