Independent Cannabis and Tobacco brands. Plant ritual, built deliberately.

Before anyone develops a moral objection they didn’t earn, let’s clarify:
This rant is NOT about: old people, disabled people, injured people, parents with strollers, or anyone whose body simply said, “We’re doing our best here, king.” Those people are moving as fast as they can, and they get infinite respect.

This is about the other ones — the fully-functioning, physically-capable dipshits who choose to walk in the center of the street like the world is their personal runway.

Yeah. You.

You Are Not Starring in a Coming-of-Age Movie

You are not the protagonist.
You are not in a soft indie montage.
There is no soundtrack following you.
You are not romantic.

You are in the way.

You toddle down the center of the road like a drugged mallard, forcing cars to slow down to the speed of your dull, gelatin-based brain.

Look to your right. Do you see it? That paved, taxpayer-funded stretch of level walkway?

That’s called a sidewalk. It has been a part of human civilization since ancient Rome.
Use it, Caesar.

Meanwhile, City Ordinances Are Out Here Cosplaying as Logic
We have to:
• Get permits
• Follow fence setback laws
• Build around imaginary property lines
• And “make room” for sidewalks that no one even fucking uses.

We are designing neighborhoods around ghost sidewalks, phantom sidewalks, theoretical sidewalks — while Kyle and McKenzie are out here strolling down the middle of the street like two wet noodles taped together.

Don’t make me move my fence three inches for a sidewalk your delirious ass will never touch.

This Isn’t Carefree Energy. This Is Brain Rot.

You’re not whimsical.
You’re not laid-back.
You’re not aesthetic.
You’re not “vibing.”
You’re lazy, oblivious, and socially feral.
Your brain is on airplane mode.
Your spatial awareness is set to factory default.
Your IQ is buffering.

I’ve seen NPCs in video games with more purposeful movement.

And The Couples. OH MY GOD THE COUPLES.
The hip-clutchers.
The waist-wrappers.
The attached-at-the-spleen, walk-as-one, fused-like-two-slugs-in-mating-season couples.
You two need to be separated with a crowbar and a cold hose.
Break physical contact for four seconds and walk like a human.
You can hold hands without forming a two-person sidewalk blockade like you’re recreating the Berlin Wall with denim jackets and emotional codependency.

You Are Not “Taking Your Time.” You Are Holding Society Hostage.

If there is:
A sidewalk present, nd nothing wrong with your legs, and you are in the street anyway…
You are telling the world:
“My awareness of others is zero and I’m proud of it.”

You are a traffic cone with feelings.

The Rule (Commit This to Memory)

Sidewalks are not optional.
Sidewalks are not decorative.
Sidewalks are not conceptual art.
They are the designated human lane.

Final Thought

If we are forced to obey sidewalk-based ordinances while you goblins walk in the street, then we should be allowed to:
1. Build fences wherever we want
2. Park in our lawns
3. Drive through your slow-walking ass like a light breeze nudging a balloon

You are not invincible.
You are not “relaxed.”
You are not quirky.

Maybe you are the reason “God” stopped intervening.
Use the sidewalk.