True story. Was over at CBS Studio Center to do some filling-in on X Factor. And we all pile into a 15 passenger van ("pass van" in the lingo) and we're waiting to leave, and there's a guy in a Ferrari California pulling in. And he's not holding us up, and he's not making us wait, and he's abiding by all the rules, and he's just fucking parking, fer chrissake, and the camera guy next to me says

"douche."

And we all thought it. All 10 of us. We didn't know this guy and for all we know he got the Ferrari as an award for everything he'd done for Habitat for Humanity. But the fact of the matter was, he was a middle-aged dude, in a Ferrari, and he was a douche. An irredeemable douche. He had spent upwards of $200k in order to create a visceral negative reaction from total strangers. And I think that's not the way it's supposed to work.

Hollywood has cured me of my love of exotics. The fact that I can hop on my bicycle and go rent a Gallardo for $150/hr (from three different shops!) isn't liberating, it's discouraging. 'cuz what the fuck are you going to do with a Lamborghini for four hours in Los Angeles other than front?