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January 22, 2005

Anger Management

This was sent to me in e-mail. It's hilarious. It's also extremely politically incorrect, but I still think it's a riot.


Anger Management

When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it
out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out on
someone you don't know.

It all started one day when I was sitting at my desk and remembered a
phone call I had forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A
man answered, saying, "Hello." I politely said, "This is Chris. May I
please speak with Robin Carter? "

Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone
could be so rude. I tracked down Robin's correct number and called her. I
had transposed the last two digits of her phone number.

After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again.
When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, "You're an asshole!" and
hung up. I wrote his number down with the word 'asshole' next to it, and
put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills
or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're an asshole!" It
always cheered me up.

When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic 'asshole'
calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is
John Smith from the Telephone Company. I'm just calling to see if you're
interested in the Caller ID program?" He yelled, "NO!" and slammed the
phone down. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an
asshole!"

One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot.
Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had
patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I had been waiting
for the spot. The idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his
car window, so I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole, (I had his
number on speed dial), I thought I had better call the BMW asshole, too.
I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?" "Yes, it is."

"Can you tell me where I can see it?" "Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th
Street. It's a yellow house, and the car's parked right out in front."

"What's your name?" I asked.

"My name is Don Hansen," he said.

"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"

"I'm home every evening after five."

"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"

"Yes?"

"Don, you're an asshole."

Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.

Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. But after several
months of calling them, it wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. So, I
came up with an idea.

I called Asshole #1. "Hello." "You're an asshole!" (But I didn't hang up.)
"Are you still there?" he asked. "Yeah," I said. "Stop calling me," he
screamed. "Make me," I said. "Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Don Hansen."

"Yeah? Where do you live?"

"Asshole, I live at 1802 West 34th Street, a yellow house, with my black
Beamer parked in front."

He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying
your prayers."

I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole."

Then I called Asshole #2.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hello, asshole," I said.

He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are!"

"You'll what?" I said.

"I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed.

I answered, "Well, asshole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right
now."

Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at
1802 West 34th Street, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay
lover. Then I called Channel 3 News about the gang war going down on West
34th Street.

I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th street. There I saw two
assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars, a
police helicopter, and a news crew.

NOW, I feel better. Anger management really works.

Posted on January 22, 2005 at 12:05 PM | Permalink

Comments

I love it! Halfway through, I started to get that sinking feeling that this would end up being the old urban legend "...and the next day I read in the paper that Don Hansen had been murdered by an unknown assailant and I feel terrible and I hope this is a lesson to all of you and only my faith in Jesus has allowed me to live with the fact that I'm such a coward for not turing myself in..." Nope. Just vindictive bastardom triumphant. Thanks for the laugh.

Posted by: John McKay at Jan 22, 2005 8:48:21 PM

Years ago, I worked with a guy who told me he had once been embarassed in front of other customers by the owner of a Quikie Mart-type store (I forget the circumstances). On his way out, he noticed a raffle bin full of the names of contestants vying for a big screen TV, with a catered Super Bowl party thrown-in on top of that. Unseen, he scooped out a few dozen entries, and a day or so before the actual drawing was to be held, phoned those people to announce they had won. He asked that they gather family and friends together for a formal presentation, and meet at the store at 12 noon the next day. He swore to me the ensuing mini-riot made the local newscasts.

Posted by: J.S. Onoma at Jan 23, 2005 12:44:09 AM