Sometimes two wrongs do make a right.

I'm not a violent man. I abhor violence. In fact, I get squeamish whenever I have to clip my finger nails. But...


there is a special place reserved on the first three knuckles of my right hand for the asshole who last Sunday , at a quarter to one in the morning, bellowed throughout our neighborhood announcing that he was selling rice cakes.

Maybe he was poor. Maybe he was poor and hungry (though logic suggests that, if that was the case, he should eat his wares). Regardless, I don't care. If it happens again -- and it happens about a half-dozen times a year -- I'm going to make the news, and not because I won first place in a beauty contest.

It's not the fact that he woke me, the wife, and the little girl up from our sleep (and, I imagine, others in the neighborhood), nor is it even the fact that he was bellowing in undulating tones like a man possessed. It's mostly because he had the fucking gall to think that at 12:45pm anyone, sleeping or no, would get the urge to buy rice cakes. That's just stupid.

And stupid people, the mentally retarded excluded, deserve to die.