I called the cops on a kid that was walking up and down the street with a bullhorn yesterday morning. Then, I shopped for really expensive shoes online. These two facts combined to give me a not-so-punk-rock feeling.

Then I found out that he was using the bullhorn to shill for his soccer team's car wash. That and the fact that I'd called in about ten in the morning because that was all the sooner I cared to get up restored my faith that I still retain at least some punk rock in my soul.

Afterward, I had a day, as I'm wont to do. I narrowly avoided getting into an accident, and then I barely missed killing two kids on a motorcycle. They darted in front of me at freeway speeds--each of them wearing sneakers, shorts, t-shirt, and nice helmet. All I could think was, "Why bother with a helmet? If you go down, you're not going to want to survive what the asphalt does to you."

Then, I knew I really was no longer punk rock.

I weeped for my loss, as I'm sure you do too, gentle traveller.