To my son: Watch what you ask/whine/scream for. I might give it to you. And you might not like it. Apparently, training you to be difficult is a lesson you are learning all too well.

To the jackass on the motorcycle: No, I don’t think motorcycles belong on the roads when they decide to ignore the laws of traffic and cut around you to the left to turn right, and then have the audacity to be indignant when you nearly run them over making your (legal) right turn. Want a whole lane? Act like it. And by the way, that woman you flip off in a minivan MIGHT be a former biker who can kick your sorry wormy posterior.

To the anonymous food thief at the office: Helping yourself to my yogurt was one thing. Stealing my SLIMFAST truly sinks to new lows. Next piece of food I place in the refrigerator will be injected with laxative. Be forewarned.

To the client-who-will-not-be-named: The precision of my response will be directly proportional to the precision of your request. Think about it.

To the oil speculators: You know the Eight Circle of Hell is reserved for the fraudulent, right? Right there next to the corrupt politicians. Do you think the boiling pitch is a coincidence?

Oh yeah. I am all FULL of Christian charity today.