We're Back, and the Beatings will Continue Until You People Fall in Line.

Yeah, yeah, we've been in the basement a while. Whatever.

Dear Dude on the 5:20 Train on Monday afternoon:

What, were manners not on sale when you were growing up? You're 50-something years old, with the look of someone who plunders around the country club golf course on Saturday mornings trying to swing your putter with the 16-year-old beverage cart girl and the wife who has surely hired a pool boy behind your back ... you never learned how to chew gum? You know, Bobby Knight once said about writers ... "Everybody learned to write in third grade, most people moved on to better things." Well by third grade, everyone should know how to chew gum properly, save for that one kid that was in the corner who no one talked to because if you did he'd snap and drop about 47 bitch-slaps at you in a 40-second span - then he'd get a sticker for being an example of the human spirit.

But no, you had to sit there on the train Monday, across the aisle from me, chomping your gum away like you were some kind of rabbit downing a carrot. Heh ... downing a carrot. I wonder if that's what the kids call it these days.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you annoyed me, and you have made the list. You've been given seat 3 in row 12 on the blog's special Train to Hell on Christmas Day - a non-stop cavalcade of everyone who has pissed me off in the last year.

Bring your gum.

Love,
MDR