Angry old women are like the Wu-Tang Clan, nothing to fuck with

I’ve been fortunate to never encounter pedestrians on my daily commute, I find their archaic way of walking to destinations and their inherent unpredictability very scary. This particular sidewalk lover, some sort of Stalin-era hulk super grandmother, encounters trappings of the capitalist world around her and goes on a proletariat rage, and tearing off trappings of private enterprise like car bumpers.