Dear Unwashed Hippie Mob waiting for an unknown concert outside the Greek Amphitheater,
As you wander in your stupefied haze in search of tickets, please refrain from spilling into the street or I will run you over with my gas-guzzling V8 while sitting in my seats made from the skins of slaughtered cattle.
To UC Berkeley, purveyor of the EIGHTY FIVE DOLLAR parking ticket:
Save yourself the phone call — I just mailed my last and only alumni donation to your Parking and Transportation division’s citation payment office.
Dear people who refuse to use a turn signal:
Please — for the love of unwrecked cars and safe, sane streets — move your hand the two inches it take to use your blinker and let us know what you’re doing.
Yours in sanity,