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Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Anger Management

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Greetings and Salutations to All my Kith and Kin and All the Ships in Outer Space:

Here is a hilarious story that was posted at "THE BLOOD IS STRONG" Scottish discussion forum web site.

The URL for that web site is:

Unfortunately, when I first read this, I was sitting in the public library here at the Ol' Soldiers' Home, and I spontaneously erupted into loudly uproarious uncontrollable laughter.

Shhhh - - - quiet, PLEASE!!!

Also, I apologize if the harsh language in this story is offensive.



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.

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a telephone call I'd forgotten to make.

I found the number and dialed it.

A man answered, saying "Hello."

I politely said, "This is Chris.

Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?"

Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear, "Get the right f**ing number!" and the telephone was slammed down on me.

I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude.

When I tracked down Robyn's correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.

After hanging up with her, I decided to call the "wrong" number again.

When the same guy answered the telephone, 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 was introduced, I thought my therapeutic "asshole calling" would have to stop.

So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from Verizon.

I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Program?"

He yelled "NO!" and slammed down the telephone.

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'd been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me.

I noticed a "FOR SALE" sign in his back window which included his telephone number, so I wrote down the number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I had his number on speed dial), I thought that I'd better call the BMW asshole, too.

I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"

"Yes, it is", he said.

"Can you tell me where I can see it?" I asked.

"Yes, I live at Thirty-Four Mowbray Boulevard, in Vaucluse.

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?"


"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.

Then I came up with an idea.

I called Asshole Number One.


"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."


Where do you live?"

"Asshole, I live at Thirty-Four Mowbray Boulevard in Vaucluse, in 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," and hung up.

Then I called Asshole Number Two.

"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 Thirty-Four Mowbray Boulevard in Vaucluse, and that I was on my way over there to kill my homosexual partner.

Then I called Channel Nine News about the gang war going down on Mowbray Boulevard in Vaucluse.

I quickly got into my car and headed over to Mowbray Boulevard.

I got there just in time to watch two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead police helicopter and a television news crew.

NOW, I feel much better.

Anger management really works.


The guy I got that story from lives in Australia.

I don't know where he got it from.

Thank you.

John Robert Mallernee, KB3KWS
Official Bard of Clan Henderson
Armed Forces Retirement Home
Washington, D.C. 20011-8400

"My personal opinions are independent of my Scottish clan."

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