Hey floppy haired fuck crossing 2nd at the west end of the Burnside bridge at about 6:30 tonight:
I flipped you off. You flailed your arms about pathetically, pointing at the crosswalk I almost smeared you into. Congratulations, someone told you the law would protect you! But let's be reasonable.
If you're running on a sidewalk downtown, getting those vital pre-marathon-season privileged-class feel-good bullshit miles in— don't just dart into the crosswalk and expect me to see you in time. Drivers need time to react to that insufferable diarrhea-walk you call a gait and do everything in their power to avoid hitting your vapid ass.
Your entitled attitude won't amount to shit when you catch someone by surprise and meet a grisly end. Running's a dull sport and so is acting like a yuppie martyr whose priorities trump everyone else's. Eat shit.