Dear door-to-Door Solicitor:
For Christ's sake, get a real job. Any type of employment which has you dragging your uninspired ass from house to house and ringing doorbells is a straight shot to mediocrity. This is not 1932; there are plenty of jobs available. Whatever wrong turns you've taken in life that have brought you to this point, I assure you it's not too late to turn things around. In fact, I'm going to collect a huge stack of employment applications from various local retail and food service establishments and keep them by the door. Each time one of you shitheads rings my doorbell in the middle of the day when my toddler's ten minutes into his nap, I'm going to open the door and hand you one of them. Then I'm going to shove five more up your ass. Jackass.
Dear Expensive Glasswear Collector:
You, ma'am, are an asshole and a jackass of the highest order. Collecting anything merely for the sake of collecting it (mechanical teddy bears, porcelain hummingbirds, pewter thimbles) is more than enough to put you in the jackass category...but collecting something expensive that is incredibly delicate and easily broken, yet meant to hold alcoholic beverages, is, well, fucking stupid. To then insist that your guests drink from your precious, expensive, delicate collectibles at holiday gatherings--and then have a coronary when one of these useless baubles predictably gets broken--speeds you right to the semifinals for the title of "Biggest, Dumbest, Most Assholified Jackass of All Time." Your irrational love of expensive crystal champagne flutes is simultaneously a red flag to your low I.Q. and the single greatest argument yet for more lenient punishment for assault and battery crimes. Now sit tight; I'm on my way over now to cram one of your stupid champagne flutes into each of your eye sockets. Jackass.