For the love of God. Yield doesn't mean stop.

I'm convinced that from the time we're born we're each given a limited amount of patience of each individual thing we experience throughout our lives.

Nothing gets my blood boiling more than dopes who stop at yield signs.

Does everyone know what yield means? It means the other dude has the right of way.

Does it mean stop? No. That's why we have stop signs. If they wanted you to stop they would have said so with a big red octogon with the word "STOP" on it.

So why does this tick me off? Afterall, how many yield signs are out there? Who cares?

I spent the last two and a half years of my schooling at Chapman Univeristy in Orange, California.

Why is this relevant? Because Orange happens to be home to the Orange Circle. Possibly the only major round-about in all of southern California.

What's a round-about? It's that thing you always see in comedies about Europe where the road becomes a circle and everyone goes round and round.

The concept is actually pretty cool, because instead of a signal or a stop sign, you now have four yield signs, which means you can go zooming through a fourway intersection at any hour of the day or night safely without slowing down. No red light you might hit. No stop sign.

The only problem with the Orange Circle was that every day at rush hour the streets would become clogged with traffic, but this wasn't regular traffic. This was stupid traffic. This was traffic created by the ineptitude of all dopes around me who shouldn't have passed their driver tests. Why was there traffic? Because every moron who came upon the Orange Circle would STOP for the yield signs. A three minute drive could be stretched into a half an hour if you hit the Orange Circle at the wrong time. And all because no one seemed to know what a yield sign was for.

Now, some of you touchy-feely people out there, who like to make excuses for people you don't know are probably thinking, "They weren't used to a round-about."

I'd agree with you if it werent' for the fact that these were locals. (How do I know? You can tell by their license plate frames.)

Up in Los Angeles there aren't many yield signs. But there is one on the Wilshire offramp of the 405 freeway. A few days ago, my wife commented that I always get peeved whenever I get off the freeway here. I hadn't noticed it. But she was right. Before I even reached the offramp I'd start complaining about the idiot in front of me who was bound to stop for the yield sign and stare like a sheep at the oncoming traffic. The memories of countless hours spent sitting in needless traffic at the Orange Cirlce were somewhere in my sub-conscious fuelling me.

So out of all things to lose all patience for, I've lost all patience for people at yield signs.

So please. I beg of you. Yield. Don't stop. Just yield. The cranky doofus in the car behind you will thank you.