Look here, asshole. This sidewalk isn't big enough as it is. The individuals that approved the plans on this side of town either did not anticipate this level of foot traffic, or did not foresee the degree to which a lack of consideration would characterize pedestrians' mentalities here. Either way, you have too much going on as you are pushing a stroller, walking your dog, and speaking on your cell phone and it is directly affecting the mobility of the other people who are trying to get somewhere via this sidewalk. I will say that at least you aren't pushing one of those tandem strollers where two children sit side by side occupying every last inch of pavement, but your wife is probably doing it about 10 feet behind me. Or perhaps she isn't because she cut you off after one child due to your arrogance and general buffoonery. That would make me a little happier, because it would be clear evidence of natural selection in action, but there's a chance that your salary range has circumvented that like Magellan to the earth. You probably didn't get that joke because in your college history class you were busy trying to score ...

Dear White Guy Trying To Take Part In The African Drum Circle, I think it's great for all of us to expand our horizons and experience other cultures as much as possible. Certainly you have fully embraced this concept, and for that, I applaud you. Your efforts have further united the people of varying cultures and backgrounds here at this street festival because they're all in agreement that this looks a bit awkward. I know the group of people dressed in traditional African garments playing African songs on the drums are unique and quite cool, but you look weird standing there hovering about with them. I'm sure they appreciate you going the extra step to purchase and wear traditional African garments as well, but you know that one time you went to a sushi place and instead of a Japanese chef in front of you, it was a blond guy named Nathan? This is sort of like that. It may not be nice to say, but I don't think they want you as a friend, and at this point you are probably creeping them out. Let's put it this way, I doubt that on St. Patrick's Day any of them will call you ...

Dear guy in seat 10E, I will be the first to admit that this letter is not the best way to communicate with you. It is passive-aggressive and accomplishes only the soul-cleansing, satisfying sensation of putting down on paper what 4 rows of people on Flight 780 should have said to you. What they, or better yet, a crew member should have said to you is "Sir, you really, really need to turn the music on your iPod down because we can all hear it, and it is making us angry." I think you missed the lady two rows in front of you who kept turning around, trying in an indirect way to let you know that she could hear something and was looking for its source. You had none of this, however, adding it to the list of other things you have none of like style, portion control, or most importantly, consideration. I can't get that great of a look at you because you are somewhat hidden by the even larger woman in seat 10F. I am leaving an anonymous note to the flight crew that the armrests in seats 10E and 10F will need to be examined for stress damage as ...

Dear Hipsters, There are many things in this world that we wish were different. We wish that all fast food restaurants served breakfast past 10:30. We wish the government did a better job at coordinating organized beatings of people who wear a bluetooth headset while working out. We wish Geico would give us a Caveman commercial where they actually kill, cook and eat that terrible British-accented gecko they use in their other spots. We also wished that you were smart enough to see the irony in belonging to an entire sub-culture that tries desperately to be anti-most types of culture (including, I hear, horticulture). Make no mistake, hipsters, you are mostly just silly and the only thing more asymmetric than your haircut is your confusion. I don't quite know when your numbers grew to the levels of an actually identifiable group, but I do know that you look like a bunch of carnies with college degrees. I am also trying to figure out how to ward you off. I have a feeling it involves talking about investment strategies, but another idea may be to wear t-shirts that say "I (picture of a heart) the modern history of the US military". That would probably ...

Dear Guy Who Plays Maroon 5 Loudly While Driving, Oh man. Mannnnn. What happened to you? When you stepped into your car this morning, you clearly thought to yourself "I bet playing my radio really loud with the windows down will draw positive attention to me, likely from females". Little did you know the way it would actually turn out. I'm not sure why you, or anyone follows this logic, but it is especially erroneous when the loud music you employ in search of this attention is the substance-free music by the Saltines of the music world, Maroon 5, as I will explain. It is possible that you were playing a different song on your adult-contemporary preset station which ended and that Maroon 5 came on which you mistook for a Freecreditreport.com commercial and therefore decided not to change the channel. However, by the first chorus, you should have realized what was going on and that Maroon 5 was no qualified co-pilot on your quest for coolness. Allow me to explain why you are in error. There are many possible reasons why individuals, particularly males, play music loudly which I shall enumerate, but your decision to play Maroon 5 is flawed ...

Dear guy who practices Karate in front of the mirror at the gym, I wanted to follow up as it has been many months since our paths last crossed. This brings much joy to my heart. The joy is probably not unlike that which you experienced when Sensei Mario gave you your yellow belt with the blue certificate that had the dragon sticker on it. What a nice early 27th-birthday present that was. This means you're only one rank away from your orange belt which comes with the "I kick it at Carlos' Karate & Cabinetry Consortium" license plate holder. Anyway, maybe you've started a funny blog of you're own about bloggers and the devastation you will unleash on them when you learn to do the katas with the sais. I don't know, but although we haven't seen each other in a while, I fear that this is merely a ruse and that you have begun to send your minions to do your bidding for you instead. I say this because this evening I found your protege, the guy who boxes on the treadmill at the gym. Instantly, I discerned that this individual is neither a runner nor a boxer. This is because ...

Dear guy who dances by himself at the club, I applaud your brash, bold, style. I honor the way you fear no taboo and pulsate to the music with no one associated with you nearby, especially before anyone else has bothered to start dancing. You seek not the easy road to meeting women for it is the lone raver out on the floor who complicates his quest for the opposite sex's affections. It would be different if it were 2:00 AM, the place was closing soon, and everyone was as inebriated as they are going to get tonight. However, it is 10:15, people are still relatively sober, and you are moving to a poor remix of "Bizarre Love Triangle" like a child that has spun himself dizzy. Onlookers have made the early decision to steer clear of you for the duration of the night, and some are snapping pictures with their cellphones. It is hot in here, so perhaps it's not entirely your fault, but the amount of sweat exiting your body at this point is rather unacceptable. I'm guessing that where you're from this is ok, however, we are not in one of the various former Soviet satellites or current Balkan states ...