Please Stop Spitting on Me

Spitting. There appears to be no great divider, not by race, age, economic status or religion, among men who spit. Is there anything more disgusting than walking down Broad Street on your way to work, and having to jump out of the way to avoid being spit on as some guy hocks a luggie on the sidewalk?

Why do men have to spit on the street to get from Point A to Point B? How come neither I, nor any of my female friends, have to stop in our tracks to spit? I’m pretty sure that I’m able to swallow any excess saliva in my throat. And I’m forever repulsed that many people cannot do the same. Furthermore, why is it acceptable to do this in the daylight, on a very crowded street, in your suit and tie? Perhaps there is some cowboy fantasy element that comes in to play. Or maybe it’s some kind of marking of territory so everyone knows that you have virtually no regard for those who walk along next to you or behind you? Better yet, what happens when they go home? Do they do this in their homes too? Are there spit buckets in every room or does the urge to spit only come when outside with others?

With the exception of the one week a year, when you may have the flu and some funky stuff going on in your throat, I sincerely request that men please stop spitting in public. Take it to the woods. Or at least a desolate street. Better yet, why not stop altogether? I’m pretty sure you’ll find that you get more girls that way.