• To Piers Morgan, talk show host on the biggest failing news network on the planet, bite me.  Anencephalic prats like you are the reason we had so much unpleasantness in the late 18th and early 19th centuries and are also why my Irish ancestors preferred poverty in Massachusetts to middle class in Ireland.
• To Governor Mario Cuomo of New York, who has proposed firearm confiscation, bring it.  In fact, I wish you luck.  In the unlikely event that you can get your state legislature to commit suicide, political or otherwise, you’re going to have a hard time finding National Guard and police personnel willing to carry it out.
• To Mayor Michael Bloomberg of New York City, I suggest hydrogen peroxide to get all that blood out of your socks now that you’ve been dancing in it for a week.
• To Wayne LaPierre of the NRA – really?  Creation of an entire class of publicly paid “only ones” is the best you’ve got?  How about proposing something constructive and cost-free, like just allowing law-abiding adults to legally carry firearms in schools?
• To Amazon and other on-line retailers, you rock.  You are responsible for me being able to do my Christmas shopping without having to share oxygen with my fellow man.  It’s probably better for everyone involved that way.
• To Juan Valdez, bless you.  You and your trusty goat are responsible for me being somewhat lucid and sane this week.  Not completely lucid and sane, mind you, just somewhat.
• To Larry Correia and Kontra – thank you.  You have put rational discussion, logic, and facts back on the table.
• To Awelowynt – thank you for pointing me to that article by Kontra.
• To all of you, thank you for hanging with me while I did my yuletide tradition of working the night shift for a week.  I promise I’ll be less…. disturbed after I’ve gotten some real sleep.

To the guy who dropped a few dozen roofing nails in the parking lot, I hope you live a long and painful life rotating the horse waste piles at Churchill Downs.  And don’t worry, I picked them all up, thankfully not with my brand new tires.

• To the mother of two young boys on Saturday – Ma’am, thank you for raising your kids right.  When you spotted the funeral procession with a Marine Corps seal on the door of the hearse drive by, and you learned from me that that meant there was a Marine being buried today, you smacked your kids upside the head and told them to show some respect.  You are better than 99% of the parents I know.
• To the parents of the other children at McDonalds – I sincerely hope your children choose to not procreate.  It should say something that I climbed up into the habitrail to get Boo out after only a few minutes rather than sit and listen to your kids scream.  Plus, I didn’t want to be there to administer first aid when one of them finally figured out why they’re not supposed to climb on the outside of the habitrail.
• To the police officer at the on-ramp this afternoon – Sir, thank you for stopping your cruiser and directing traffic at the broken stop-light.  I especially thank you for doing it after three of your co-workers used their flashing lights to get through the intersection and speed on to wherever they were headed.
• To Burger Joint Franchise #2141111 – Thank you for being open late on a Sunday evening.  I thought I had some noodles and such in my desk, but I was mistaken.  Being able to get a snack before driving home from work was nice.

• To the guy on the Harley who thought it would be a good idea to swerve through traffic on wet pavement tonight:  I’m sorry I had to slam on my brakes so that I didn’t turn you into a speed bump, but you gave yourself exactly 6 inches both in front of and behind yourself when you cut me off so you could make it to the right turn lane.  I hope that when you finally get into a real crash and you ride that bike for a few meters on its side, that finger you waved at me is uninjured so you’ll have something to guide your motorized chair around with.
• To the person who stopped by my desk at 10:23 PM on a Saturday night to ask if I was working hard or hardly working:  I hope that all of your children drop out of college to pursue careers in snuff films where I’m sure they’ll be glad to see their grandmother more often.
• To the couple who had a screaming fight at the gas station while I was filling up on the way home:  I really hope that the kids you had in the car use you as a bad example. I would hate for them to think that screaming scatological epithets at each other while getting a tank of gas is normal.
• To the stoner working the drive through window:  Dude, when I’m buying fast food at 12:05 AM on a Saturday night while wearing business casual attire, I want my soda, my sandwich, and my change.  I do not want to know that it’s cold in the restaurant, that your girlfriend is waiting on you at home, and that you get off work in a few hours.  At that hour, I’m not the most social animal, OK?  Cut the chitchat, give me what I need, and let me get on the road.
• To the construction workers who were doing maintenance on the highway interchange tonight:  Guys, my hat’s off to you.  I would have laid money that at least one of the bozo’s in front of me using one of y’all as a hood ornament.  It tells me a lot that when I slowed down and got over to give you some room, one of you shouted “Thank You!”.
• To the nice police officer who tailgated me from the highway to my driveway just to make sure I made it home OK:  Thank you so much for making sure I didn’t do anything foolish like forget to use my turn signal or speed for the last few miles of my journey home.  I wish you luck as you spend the rest of your evening trolling for real drunk drivers.

• To the lady in the doctor’s office today with her son:  There was no need to thank me for asking the receptionist to switch the television from CNN to Disney.  I’ve been in your place, and I know how hard it is to keep a munchkin from losing it in a non-munchkin environment.  Plus, I got to read my book in relative peace while I waited for my appointment.
• To the geriatric hippie driving the smoke belching VW van on the highway today:  Thank you for keeping the mosquitoes down along I-64.  I am truly impressed that you are able to keep that POS on the road at all, but if your top end is 45, maybe you should try taking side streets.
• To the lady in the Walmart checkout this afternoon:  I suggest the use of mace and shock collars to keep your brood of 7 children in line at the store.  If you’re not willing to do so, I’m pretty sure I can get volunteers.
• To the two young men who were behind me in line at Walmart:  Guys, you were pushing a cart full of pudding cups, Dolly Madison cupcakes, beef jerky, and Mountain Dew.  You weren’t fooling anyone by trying to act straight while giggling like fiends and smelling like the inside of a bong.  Thankfully, I don’t think you were driving, because you dragged along a girlfriend, who seemed to be sober.
• To the sober young lady with the two stoners:  I’m so sorry about your situation.  I’m sure you could do better.
• To the lady in the Walmart parking lot wearing the pink business suit:  Maybe if you smacked the young man you were walking into the store with, who I assume was your son, a few times, he wouldn’t walk around with his pants down around his knees, wear a ball cap for a basketball team halfway across the country cocked 45 degrees, have a sleeveless tee shirt with a vulgar picture and saying on it, and words carved into his purple hair.

Only have a couple today, and they’re a mixed bag.

To the inbred, bucktoothed, ratfaced, white trash pig eyed sack of moose crap that was driving the rusted out Chevy with the 10+ foot whip antenna affixed to the bumper:  When you braked hard at the yellow light because you can’t judge time and distance, the antenna to your mobile command post came back and smacked my hood and windshield.  That’s why I honked my horn.  I’m glad good sense came over you after you came flying out of your rustbucket and started walking back towards my car, because if you had taken a couple more steps, we might have had a problem.  I guess acting like Billy Badass doesn’t work too well when the subject of your ire is about a foot taller, about 50 pounds heavier, and doesn’t even blink when you come at him spewing expletives.  No offense dude, but I’m not impressed with your Napoleon complex.  I’ve been cussed at by professionals.  Thanks so much for getting back into your crate and burning rubber to show your manhood.  One thought – if you ever make that rude gesture to me again, your girlfriend’s going to miss that finger when I bite it off. Another thought:  It’s called an antenna tie-down.  Maybe you should look into them.

On a more happy note:  to the eight or ten balloon pilots that flew behind our house tonight, thank you.  You made a little boy’s day.  I wish you happy winds, gentle updrafts, and easy landings.

To the person or persons who have been paging me to an unlisted data connection in Bullitt County, live in fear.  Someday, I will find you and you will suffer.

To the man in Thornton’s today who had his ear gauged big enough to fit 12 gauge shells through the holes, you should fear the following two phrases:  “reconstructive surgery” and “professional job interview”.

To the wonderful person who figured out that if you took dark roasted coffee, ground it up into little bitty teensy weensy pieces, packed it into a cookie full of win, and then shot hot water and steam through it you get the sweet nectar of life, may the caffeine gods forever bless you.

To the sweet automotive angels that got that frayed wire on the van to poke my finger last weekend, allowing me to find the cause of my problems with that vehicle, bless you.  It’s been Africa hot here in Kentucky lately, and having air conditioning has kept me from breaking some or more of the vehicular manslaughter laws.