My oppressive neighborhood

On my walk to work today I was feeling oppressed. I was thinking about how to handle my victimization by whatever neighborhood bandits had yet again left great gobs of long silver-gray doll-hair stuffed up the tailpipe of my car. That's not the reason I was walking, but I figured sooner or later they might get good enough at packing hair up my car's a-hole that it could become inoperably constipated.

I pondered that the cops probably wouldn't help. You would have to set a video camera to catch the weasel, and that's costly. I figured that in the worst case, I can't have a car anymore, and maybe I can live with that. I lamented that I haven't gotten to know my neighbors. I could confront them about their villainous children, but that might not go over well if they already see me as the weird nut who could use a little cracking from their kids. To make much progress with the neighbors I would have to buy a wii and invite them over for fellowship over snacks, Nintendo, and heroine injections. The task ahead of me was daunting.

As usual, Google came to the rescue. A search for "tail pipe hair" took me directly to a discussion from Click and Clack, the Car-talk brothers, explaining that honda mufflers are known to sprout gray hair in their old age.