Recently I’ve been dealing with some career path disappointment. This one, however, stung a bit more because it involved playing with the idea of a completely new path. While the dream itself is not altogether dead, the realization that it could be caused me to enlist extra efforts to stave off the gathering black clouds in my brain. Yet surprisingly, rather than swimming around in the gloom, the blues quickly turned to seeing red. As in a really pissed off red! Anger is a funny thing. While we are taught to "turn the other cheek," "take the high road," "go to the balcony," or "be the better person," sometimes it becomes necessary to go medieval on someone’s ass. But with the rules of decorum (and laws) being what they are, finding the appropriate outlet for releasing the Kraken within can be a challenge. For me, it’s easy. I write an F-YOU letter. This is actually a practiced technique in my family, and it works pretty well. Of course, we NEVER mail the thing, tempting as that may be. Rather, we use it as an effective tool for getting out all the bile that banks up in one’s soul, allowing us to metaphorically shove it in face of a richly deserving addressee. Once the letter is written and its vitriol aimed in the appropriate direction, it is burned. I have heard the original instructions for disposal involved taking it into the bathroom with you and “disposing” of it in a different manner. However, being delicate flowers ourselves, we chose arson as our preferred method. Should you choose to employ the F-YOU letter technique yourself, the mode of disposal is completely up to you.
So, to purge my recent anger and avoid ripping the heads off of those I love or some poor unsuspecting barista in my favorite coffee shop, I wrote the letter below. And since we are all in some way fellow travelers through the current crappy economy quagmire, I share it with you and welcome you to use it too. True, it may not change anything, but it will make you feel a little better.
You evil, soulless, vile, despicable rat-bastard! Who the hell do you think you are to take our hopes and dreams and grind them under your pernicious foot like you are snuffing out a smoldering cigar butt on pavement? Our homes, jobs, plans and financial security all gone in a puff of your economically cancerous smoke. Achievements, goals and dreams are like dry kindling for your campfire, our college funds, retirement accounts and hard-earned savings just marshmallows to char and shove into your grotesque gaping maw. None of us deserved your cruelty and I want retribution, now. We’re talking HELLFIRE AND PESTILENCE RETRIBUTION!!! The kind Moses threw at Pharaoh, or Charlton Heston threw at Yul Brenner, whichever is worse! However, since my access to locusts, frogs, fire and brimstone are somewhat limited, and biblical-type retribution seems a bit dated, I’ve created a more modern list “plagues” to set upon you and your lackeys. Rest assured, I feel no karmic conflict wishing you the worst, you soul-sucking scum. You deserve all you get and more, and I have no doubt Mother Teresa, Gandhi AND the Dali Llama would be on my side on this. My list of wrath is as follows: (For those of you playing along, this is a “working list,” so feel free to make your own addendum. Retribution is FUN!)
Plague #1: You will lose your job in a reputation ruining and deeply embarrassing scandal involving inappropriate investments, orthopedic shoes, a really bad haircut and a particular farm animal. Your actions make you ineligible for any severance, golden parachute or unemployment payments, and you become the running joke for months on Letterman, Leno and the Fashion Police. Criminal charges from the SEC, FBI, Vogue, the Hairdressers of America and PETA are pending.