To the trigger-happy, spray-painting punk who created a fatty pink line on my friend's bare lower back at a crowded birthday bash on 10th and Republican: It's people like you that make me wish we lived in a barbaric, Third World society with strict finger-chopping penalties for brainless jackasses who get their rocks off assaulting people (yes, what you did was technically assault, you asshole). Not only did you tag my friend's back, you also marred her belt and her shirt. As if that wasn't enough, somehow I unknowingly got caught in the crossfire and now my favorite navy-blue corduroy jacket has a goddamn indelible pink spot on the back. Thanks a lot for that utterly unprovoked display of retardation--I'm absolutely positive I didn't do SHIT to you... I'd like you to take a moment and imagine your favorite article of clothing suddenly defiled with your LEAST FAVORITE COLOR for no apparent reason. Now, I'm not gonna say graffiti is uncalled for--some of it (even such lame-ass tags as the pervasively putzy "Pac-Man ghost") has its place. However, spray-painting on living, breathing people, however annoying or oblivious they may be, completely hurdles the line from mischievous to MALICIOUS. May you get plowed and flattened by an unyielding 18-wheeler paint truck.

--Anonymous