FUCK YOUR REVOLUTION
It's 10pm on a Wednesday, my only time to go grocery shopping. I do. I go. It's fine. I come home and lo and behold, the Motherfuckers of the Revolution (aka, the fresh-faced yuppies who are just, you know, JAZZED about the new Revolution Hall) have stolen every spot on every block. AGAIN. Despite the fact that our whole neighborhood got the city to impose a 90min limit on all parking after 7, and all the signs conspicuously say so. That's mean of us, right? But guess what: we like to park by our houses. That's a normal goddamned preference.
Okay, so I'll just schlep my groceries 4 blocks in the rain. I've only lived in this spot for a decade; why would I be so resistant to this revitalizing neighborhood change? Rev Hall, I hate you.
What's that, Rev Hall? I'm not allowed to hate you cuz you're so cool and low-key? Well, I was cool and low-key too, until I could NEVER PARK AGAIN. You opened an 800-seater with a 100-spot parking lot, and when our whole neighborhood challenged it, your answer to city powers was basically a smug shrug. Heaven forfend you foot the expense to create enough parking for your shithead hordes. You yuppie parasites are as bad as Wal-Mart, privatizing your own gains and passing the losses (of space, patience, and parking) on to all of your neighbors. This is no revolution; it's your version of manifest destiny.