From the Apr 1 – Apr 7, 2004 issue

Columns

I CAN'T WAIT TO CASTRATE YOU

Fuck you, you little punk. This is the fifth fucking time my vehicle has been broken into since I moved to this piece-of-shit city, causing me a total of one grand in repairs and replacements for the petty shit you call theft. You're too stupid to take the stuff that's valuable; hello, CD player? It's not even a built-in, just one where you put the fake tape into the archaic tape player in my radio. But the Chilton manual will bring a lot on the streets, I'm sure. And you know, I'm just rolling in the money, and I can afford the repairs easily--that's why I live in this craphole apartment in this skanky section of town. Right, dumb fuck. Hey, my car's nothing to write home about, but it's pretty decent for what I make, and I'm proud of it. It's big enough to sleep in the back when I have to get out of this urban hell--that's why I got it. So, if someone actually responds to those signs I put up, on which I promised a reward for information on your dumb, chickenshit ass, fuck the police--I'm taking five things from you. Both hands, one kneecap, and both balls, 'cause let's face it, you don't need to reproduce. Retribution is a bitch, and you're going to be my bitch soon.

--Anonymous