Memo to the guy in the pickup who tried to run me over

You almost pulled it off when you barreled towards me the other morning with that demonic gleam in your eye. But as you can see from this memo, I'm still kicking.

You had me going there for a minute, though. Literally. My life started to flash before my eyes, but I never got past that time in first grade when I almost dropped the baby Jesus doll while carrying it to the manger at midnight Mass on Christmas. My private screening of This Is Your Life stopped at that point because I realized I wasn't going to die after all. At least I didn’t have to relive my high-school years, so thanks for that. 

I assume your health insurance partially covers the cost of your blood-pressure pills, so you may want to talk to your doc about upping the dosage; your temper can’t be helping any on that front. If it's any consolation, I used to have anger-management issues like yours back in the day. That’s why I always carried a Glock on my walks, so I could take shots at insane drivers like you who tried to run me down while I was crossing the street in the crosswalk. My aim wasn’t very good, but I did manage to wing a passenger that one time. 

Anyway, you might want to try taking up meditation. It worked wonders for me. Of course, judging by the disappointed look on your phiz when you realized you fell short of your goal by mere inches, I’m guessing you'll need to meditate 24/7 over a period of several years before you begin to resemble a normal, well-adjusted human being. So you may have to quit your day job and live off your lottery winnings, while jacking deer to keep the food bills down. That body fat will keep you going for quite a while if you're short of cash for Twinkies, so that's some consolation.

You know what they say: A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. In your case, that would be a step off the accelerator.