My bus driver is not doing enough to affirm my faith in the common man

Needless to say, I've been using public transportation ever since I first got interested in the common man. And, rest assured, most bus drivers uphold every romantic preconception I have for the public transit operator. But let's face it. Ever since my last bus driver retired, his replacement hasn't done jack shit to uphold my philosophical faith in the common man.

If you're anything like me, you may not feel especially communistical at the ass-crack of dawn, when you're freezing your nuts off waiting for the bus to go to work. That's why I always appreciated the curb-side manner of bus operator Ignatius Sizemore, who on arrival would always ask, "Hey, buddy. How's it hanging?" By this I always assumed he meant the low-hanging fruit of the means of production, to which I would respond, "Ripe and juicy, my fellow wage slave," for a collective chuckle. But this new guy. I tell you it would kill him just to say hello.

Now I appreciate that not everyone of proletarian stock must necessarily be a people person, but deep-fried Jesus -- this guy just sucks. Not only does he not deign to chit-chat, Mario Andretti over here likes to accelerate from 0-60 just as soon as you're inside the passenger doors. I'm all like, "What the hell, comrade?" But do you think he cares? Granted, I am not some elderly person trying to manage a week's worth of groceries. I won't expire from the experience. But does that mean I want to touch those overhead rails where the common man deposits his upper-respiratory surplus? And how about trying to read Marx's Capital on the land-based equivalent of a fishing trawler in the middle of the open ocean? You would think for humanity's sake this joker would at least want to accommodate that.

One area where my bus driver consistently applies himself is in the thorough examination of each and every female posterior which crosses his path. He has even been known to shake his head and exclaim, "Damn," in his deepest contemplations. But wouldn't it be better if this exploited soul put all that thoughtfulness toward a worldwide worker's revolution? I can assure you that, if he did, it would help reaffirm my faith in the common man -- the same philosophical faith in the common man, we must recall, which I have come to hold so dear. But I have to tell you, as things stand now, I just don't know what to think when it comes to having faith in the common man.

Let me conclude by reiterating the point that there are times when I really wish I could be better reassured in my aforementioned faith in the common man. My previous bus driver, Ignatius Sizemore of the Walmart City/Old Industrial Highway line, did a bang-up job when it came to that. But this new guy is just an unmitigated have-faith-in-the-common-man disaster, from which I have yet to recover.