Dear Asshole: You pulled up next to me at a stoplight on your superdork scooter. You'd seen me honking at some dumb-ass pedestrians who were cluelessly trying to cross against my green light; you said I was an asshole and deserved to have my ass beat for scaring them. Well shithead, you were threatening me in front of my kid, which by your own logic means you're an asshole too and should have your ass beat.

During your idiotic pantomiming of just how you would beat my ass, you pointed at my gut. True, I am carrying a little extra, but the medication that I and other former members of my Ranger squad have to take--we all served in the first Gulf party and nearly all have the same disease--makes us gain weight. But hey, I'm still freakishly strong. I've gone up against far tougher men than you, men who were trying to kill me--and guess who's still around? Like the line goes, I've got chunks of guys like you in my shit.

However, I noted your scooter colors, so I'll keep an eye out for you. Here's hoping that we can meet again sometime, when I'm not with my kid. You can show me how tough you are, and I will show you up close and personal just what this slightly broken down but still proficient ex-soldier can do.

--Anonymous