Driving to work at the crack of noon involves sharing the road with the retired, jobless, and equally late. I got stuck behind this guy on his phone waving frantically and driving erratically. These are the kind of people that make me not answer my phone when I’m driving… sometimes. I passed him on Street Rd and found he had no cell phone; just a oblong tuft of hair on the right side of his head which grease, grit and time molded into a whip antenna of insanity. What was he yelling at? Immitating opera? Was his hair thick enough or did it contain enough embedded metal shards to function as a Bluetooth headset? More mysteries.