To The Asshole In The Orange Trucker Hat

Dear Red-neck Mother Fucker,

This is a correspondance of thanks to the many nights and days of ruin sleep that u have caused. You’ve taken the long-forgotten and obsolete form of telecommunication, the Citizen Band Radio, and turn it into something thats so much more of a pain in the ass. Everytime I try to get a restful night/day of sleep, I hear you blaring through every speaker in my apartment; my computer system, my stereo system and my home-entertainment system, looking for someone to talk. You are a sorry son of a bitch.

How much you like to be driven out of a sound sleep to “Shut up dill hole!” or “Anybody out there?” every three hours. I have to flip circuits off in the breaker box to get any solidarity because not only does your voice come through when everything turned off, your one-sided CB conversations will come through with the slightest amount of power. I can’t have company without them being scared out of their minds when voices come through the walls. The last few time I wsa lucky enough to get sex, the mood was almost thrown off because you were looking for a friend. I can’t fucking stand it anymore. I’m about ready to jump the fence into your yard and rip that damn antenna off your house and shove it up your ass.

And who’s the fuck uses a cb radio in their house. Its not police-band, you’re not in a truck. Hell, there isn’t even a good whore house in Hammond so you can’t be trying to get laid off that thing. The only thing close is the bathhouse around the corner. All the perverts, got smarter and moved to the Intarweb. You need to catch the fuck up because its obvisious that you have been left behind. I hope that you’re retarded or something to that nature because that is the only reason that can justify what you’ve been doing. You’re a sad excuse for a human being.