I, like any other sane person in the world, routinely gamble my entire sanity on the D-Fens Fantasy. Oh, what's that? You've never heard of the D-Fens Fantasy? Read on.

The name "D-Fens Fantasy" was inspired by Michael Douglas' character in Falling Down, who was referred to only by his vanity license plate, D-Fens. In the movie, Douglas walks around in his suit and tie, beating the living snot out of people, sometimes shooting them, for doing the little things that piss him off, like charging 85 cents for a can of soda instead of 50.

Anyway, it's a lot fun to imagine the most innappropriate and extreme responses to things that are mildly irritating. Jerry Seinfeld once decribed such a fantasy when he talked about wanting to just stand up in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner and launch the turkey through the window. Of course, you wouldn't really do that, but it's fun to imagine your family's reaction.

Sometimes my D-Fens Fantasies are just for fun. Like when I'm bowling and miss a difficult split, I imagine blasting the last pin into splinters with a shotgun.

The place where I have the most D-Fens Fantasies is on the corner of Central Avenue and Bristol Street when I'm walking to and from work every day. First of all, no one on that corner ever seems to go straight. They're all turning. Second, they don't seem to realize you're supposed to come to a stop before doing the whole right-on-red thing. Third, almost no one yields to pedestrians. The result is that sometimes you will not be able to cross the street on the first light change, even if you have the walk signal.

Through trial and error, I've found that the best mental weapon to employ in this situation is the crowbar. It provides immediate, satisfying results, especially when that windshield shatters and falls like a jellyfish onto the driver's lap. They're sitting there, dazed and terrified, probably not even knowing what they did wrong, and that's the time to grab their cell phone out of their hand and drop some witty one-liner on the person on the other end.

Of course, when I'm standing there trying to come up with such a line, and imagining all the details, the light has turned red again.

Bastards.
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