"I can't hear you. What did you say?"

"You don't need to hear me, you need to move your car," he says in a tone reserved for people who you hold in slightly more contempt than your two month old milk in the refrigerator.

So, of course, I get back in my car, put it in drove and slowly press the accelerator to the floor and SMASH right into the back of his puny, aluminum-foil, battery-powered tricycle and crush it to bits. As he stumbles out of the car, me and three menacing bad guys jump out with sawed-off shotguns and baseball bats to ask him - at closer range where we can hear better - "WHAT DID YOU SAY, MOTHERFUCKER? HUH!? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!?"

Unfortunately, life isn't like a movie, and I would like to lodge a formal complaint about that. It would have been so much better if I could have explained myself in the manner aforementioned, but I think it violated some zoning rule about killing parking enforcement officers with sawed-offs on a weekend.

Life would really be more interesting if it were like a movie. First of all, I want my own personal soundtrack. Second, firearms should be as available as long, sleek, intelligent female villains/heroines. And finally, WHY AREN'T PEOPLE FOLLOWING MY SCRIPT!?

I think most people agree. For instance, I'm sitting in the movie theater in Los Angeles watching H.E.A.T. And while Val Kilmer and Robert De Niro are charging through downtown L.A. shooting everyone while being chased by approximately three times the number of police that were on the streets during the riots, it's a tense few minutes in the theater. Except: every time Mr. Kilmer or Mr. De Niro shoot one of L.A.'s Finest, everyone in the theater claps. For those of you that haven't seen the movie, let me spoil it further by elucidating that none of these soon-to-be-dead cops have done anything. They don't even have speaking roles. They are just uniform hangers.