...But come on. This one takes the cake. (Mmmmm. Cake.)
My husband and I were in a taxi the other night going to a friend's house for dinner. We were in San Francisco, the city in which we both work and have lived for years before moving north over the Golden Gate bridge about 12 miles.
San Francisco. Bumfuck it ain't.
Or so I thought. We're at a red light. A pickup truck pulls up next to our taxi. Woman in passenger seat leans out the window and says to our driver:
Woman: "How do we get to 101 South?"
Driver: "Make a left at this light and go about 2 blocks. You'll see it on your right."
At this point, the guy driving the pickup truck who is out of our line of vision calls out the the taxi driver:
Redneck Asshole: "Hey. Where are all the gays at?"
Redneck Asshole: "You know, gays."
When he didn't get a response, he kicks it up a notch:
Redneck Asshole: "OK. Where are the prostitutes at?"
I'm no pollyanna, but if I didn't hear this with my own two ears I may not have believed it. And not because he ended his questions with a preposition. But because of his sheer stupidity.
And...these two morons had little kids in the front seat with them. So for those of you wondering where ignorant children come from, I'll tell you: Ignorant parents. Wouldn't it be great if one or both of the kids turned out to be gay?
That would be just desserts, so to speak.