Dear Honkers,

I remember commuting in a car. I hated it. That's why I sold my car. But you still have your cars and you have to put up with the frustration of navigating a metal rectangle through narrow asphault passages clogged with other metal rectangles. It can be a nightmare, especially when some of your fellow navigators are selfish, stupid bastards. Some of my fellow walkers are selfish, stupid bastards as well, but it's a lot easier to just go around them.

Point being is that there's times when you're mad at the other people in cars around you. And that horn is right in front of you and it looks awfully tantalizing. And there's times when you actually need to use it. But what you may not be recognizing is that when you angrily lay on your horn, it's not the moron in the BMW that's blocking the intersection that bears the brunt. All he hears is a tinny beeping sound that exists somewhere in between his Maroon Five CD and his cell phone conversation.

No, it's those of us walking outside—those of us who did absolutely nothing to you and who also think that the guy in the BMW that's blocking the intersection needs to learn how to drive—that get the full noise. We're the ones cringing as the sound of your horn drills through our already-weak eardrums. It's like being an innocent bystander hit by a bullet meant for a rival gangmember, only without the death part.

Anyway, knock it off.