An Open Letter to 3+ Complete Psychos

Dear Fuckheads,

May I call you “Fuckheads”? Yes, I think so. If you don’t like it, you can eat my crap. And besides that, you’ve all worked so hard to deserve the title.

1. To the most recent of you; You, the one that was driving at least 80 on the freeway last week and didn’t appreciate that Will wasn’t aware that you were so far over the speed limit coming up on his ass. You see, he was doing the speed limit and wasn’t even in the far left passing lane, because he was trying to steer clear of any panic-stricken drivers who just HAVE to drive like if they don’t get to where they want to go RIGHT NOW, the whole world is going to stop.

It seems like you couldn’t have cared less that the LIVES of your fellow drivers hung in the balance of your schedule. Maybe next time, you could just try being on time.

Well, fuckface, you were so angry, that you were swerving all over the place and tailgating him until you finally threw a full bottle of Obsession out the window at his truck, while driving…on the freeway. You dickhead.

I have to commend you on getting rid of such a horrible scent. Unfortunately, it has stunk up the undercarriage of Will’s truck and our whole garage smells like it. Did someone give it to you for Christmas and you were pissed that you received it as a gift? I hope that you didn’t buy it for yourself, because it’s a disgusting scent that makes me want to wretch. I would’ve rather you had thrown poo…you know, what your brain is made of? Yeah, that.

I wish that I could meet you in person, without huge metal objects between us to see if you’d be so brave. I highly doubt that you would be. It’s amazing what guts people develop when they’ve got a car surrounding them.

2. To the least recent of you; You, the one that was driving at least 80 on the freeway and didn’t appreciate that I was getting on the freeway and wasn’t doing the speed that you would’ve liked. Was it really necessary to literally run me off the road, where I had to drive off onto the shoulder into a slide of cinders? We would’ve actually collided had I not done so.

Maybe I should’ve just let you hit me. My car is more sturdy than that shitmobile that you were driving. And maybe the accident would’ve fixed that terrible haircut you had. Unfortunately, there would’ve been Beanie Babies strewn all over the freeway after the collision. Your rearview window was stacked FULL of those little fuckers. I must admit, that after you did that, I fantasized sticking them all in your ass…along with a stick of dynamite. Oh well, the accident would’ve at least freed them from your evil grasp, as would have my dynamite.

I called 911 on your nasty piece of shit existence, but you lost me in traffic. So, I found some solace in the notion that somehow, with that ridiculous haircut, those stupid sunglasses you were wearing and that hunk-o-junk shitmobile packed with FUCKING BEANIE BABIES, you were already living in hell. Even if you weren’t aware of it, you bride of Satan.

3. To you sick holes up on the bridge at 4a.m. on New Year’s morning, 2006. That very large heavy object that the 3 of you lifted up and over the fence, which came crashing down onto the road in front of me, could’ve killed me. Thanks for that. I was on my way to Los Angeles International to go back to Ohio for my Father’s valve and bypass surgery. I was half-awake, so early in the morning to be driving. I had hoped that any drunk asswipes left from the New Year’s celebrations would have been at home, in jail, or in a ditch by that time. But I was wrong.

I don’t know what caused me to look up and see you sick bastards, but I did. And had I not, you would’ve hit me. Happy New Year.

To the lot of you that I’ve referred to, do you know that Will and I are:

Someone’s sons?

Someone’s brothers?

Someone’s uncles?

Someone’s nephews?

Someone’s cousins?

Someone’s friends?

And someone’s neighbors?

We’re Dads to two little rescue dogs.

We’ve waited what seems like a lifetime to meet one another. To share a life together, so the world doesn’t seem so lonely.

We would like to adopt some children and give them a loving home to grow up in…

I would like to read poetry, literature and scary stories to them by a crackling fire. And teach them different languages while they’re growing. We want to travel with them, to show them the world. To laugh, to create music and plays. To lie in the grass and drink lemonade and decipher clouds' shapes in the summer. And to ice skate, sled ride and snow ski in the winter. Will wants to show them art and how to draw and paint and build things. We want to equip them as best we can how to be present, engaged, compassionate, considerate and socially conscience World citizens.

I’m sorry that you were in a hurry.

And I’m sorry that you’re mischievous and thought it would be funny to drop a large heavy object onto the freeway.

But you could’ve killed us. You could’ve taken us away from our Mothers, our Fathers, our Sisters and Brothers, our Nieces and Nephews, our Aunts and Uncles and Cousins, our Friends, our Dogs and our future Children, who are breathing out there somewhere waiting for us...

You could’ve changed all that.

By YOUR actions,

Not ours.