Night Of The Momentum Killer

Kids,

To the terrible monsters, meth addicts, or emasculated monkey wet nurse fanboys from Nevada who were driving in the PT Cruiser up the Hill this afternoon: die. It’s that simple. Die you bastards, die.

They’ve joined, without even knowing it, the Anti-Destination League by shucking (without actually jiving) their idiot way up the twisty road to my little alpine chalet. For that, I continue with my call for their demise. Real soon too, I hope.

Please fall off a road. Please catch on fire. Stroke. Heart attack. I don’t care.

Your vengeful pal,

bob